Benjamin Morgan Palmer and the Disunion of Scripture

Benjamin Morgan Palmer and the Disunion of Scripture: Hermeneutical Practices in the American South

from the Mid to Late Nineteenth Century

by

Thomas Andrew Smith

A Thesis submitted to the Faculty of Wycliffe College and the Graduate Centre for Theological Studies of the Toronto School of Theology.

In partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Theology

awarded by the University of St. Michael’s College.

© Copyright by Thomas Andrew Smith 2021

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Benjamin Morgan Palmer and the Disunion of Scripture:

Hermeneutical Practices in the American South

from the Mid to Late Nineteenth Century

Thomas Andrew Smith

Doctor of Philosophy in Theology

University of St. Michael’s College

2021

Abstract

This thesis examines hermeneutical practices of representative figures primarily in the American

Southern Presbyterian Church during the mid to late nineteenth century (Benjamin Morgan

Palmer and James Henley Thornwell). In particular, the focus concerns the reading of the Old

Testament (especially Genesis 9) alongside the issues of slavery and war. Select Northern and

African American readings of the Old Testament are also examined. The objective is to discover

what relationship a hermeneutic may have to the ethical outcomes of the highly contentious and

biblically framed issues of slavery and war. The results are that a type of figuralism was

employed in reading Scripture. However, whether or not the Old Testament was figurally read

alongside the passion of Jesus or the suffering of Israel seems to have made a considerable

difference in interpretive and ethical conclusions. The suggestion put forward to contemporary

hermeneutics is not to read the Bible less figurally, but with a proper Christological figuralism in

place.

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Acknowledgments

I cannot adequately thank my supervisors, Dr. Ephraim Radner and Dr. Marion Taylor. They

went to great lengths in helping form and direct my thinking. Without their guidance, this project

would not have come to completion. Wycliffe College, which has created a space to engage in

creative theology for the church, also deserves recognition. Lastly, I am profoundly grateful for

the patience of my wife, Kate, and my three children, Kathryn, Simeon, and Cameron, who

endured year after year of me trying to be dad, pastor, and student. This thesis has been a long

time in coming. The Lord and many others have been very kind to me.

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Contents

Chapter 1: Introduction ................................................................................................................ 1

1.1 Rationale ...................................................................................................................... 1

1.2 Benjamin Morgan Palmer ............................................................................................ 4

1.3 Interpretative Traditions .............................................................................................. 7

1.3.1 Genesis 9:18-27 and the Curse of Ham ..................................................... 7

1.3.2 Early Figural and Spiritual Interpretation .................................................. 9

1.3.3 Medieval Figural and Societal Interpretation .......................................... 11

1.3.4 Early Modern Interpretation .................................................................... 19

Chapter 2: Benjamin Morgan Palmer: The Antebellum Years .............................................. 28

2.1 Early Education and Formation ................................................................................. 28

2.1.1 Palmer and Providence ............................................................................. 34

2.1.2 Palmer and Scripture ................................................................................ 40

2.1.3 Palmer and History ................................................................................... 48

2.2 Summary of Palmer’s Early Years ............................................................................ 55 Chapter 3: Benjamin Morgan Palmer: The War Years and Beyond ..................................... 60

3.1 The Eve of War .......................................................................................................... 62 3.2 The War Years: 1861-1865 ........................................................................................ 71 3.2.1 Establishing the South as Israel ................................................................ 71 3.2.2 Defending Southern Honor ...................................................................... 75 3.2.3 The Church as Intellectual Guide for the Political Body ......................... 77 3.3 The Post War Years: Crafting a Southern Identity ................................................... 83 3.3.1 Ecclesial Division and the Formation of Southern Identity ..................... 84 3.3.2 Racial Division and the Formation of Southern Identity ......................... 88

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3.4 Summary ................................................................................................................... 95

Chapter 4: James Henley Thornwell: The Old South’s Greatest Son ................................ 101

4.1 Early Influences ...................................................................................................... 103 4.2 Thornwell’s Baconian Methodology ...................................................................... 105 4.3 The Church as a Spiritual Body and Political Implications .................................... 110 4.4 Thornwell’s Defense of the South and Slavery ...................................................... 112 4.5 Contradictions in the Thinking of Thornwell ......................................................... 122 4.6 Thornwell Rises to Defend the South ..................................................................... 125 4.7 Summary ................................................................................................................. 137

Chapter 5: Contrasts from the North and African Americans ............................................ 141

5.1 Robert Livingston Stanton’s War Against Palmer and Thornwell ......................... 142

5.2 African Americans and the Civil War .................................................................... 149 5.2.1 Literal Preaching .................................................................................... 150 5.2.2 The Larger Biblical Narrative ................................................................ 153 5.2.3 Slave Education ..................................................................................... 154 5.2.4 Physical Harm ........................................................................................ 155 5.2.5 Slave Baptism ........................................................................................ 157 5.2.6 Booker T. Washington ........................................................................... 158 5.3 Scripture: African American Spirituals .................................................................. 161 5.4 Violence: African Americans and Retributive Violence ........................................ 171 5.4.1 Denmark Vesey ...................................................................................... 172 5.4.2 Nat Turner .............................................................................................. 174 5.4.3 David Walker ........................................................................................ 177

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5.5 Summary ................................................................................................................. 179

Chapter 6: Hermeneutical Implications and Suggestions Forward ..................................... 183

6.1 Reading the Old Testament Apart from Christ ....................................................... 183

6.2 Palmer as Pastor ...................................................................................................... 185

6.3 Reflections for the Modern Church ........................................................................ 191 Bibliography ............................................................................................................................... 202

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Chapter 1

Introduction

1.1 Rationale

This thesis is built upon the conviction, recently renewed in contemporary hermeneutics, that

a figural reading of the Scriptures is necessary in order to apply its text to contemporary life.1

However, this conviction requires critical articulation because without the proper

hermeneutical lens by which to read the “images” of Scripture such figuralism can prove

morally distorting. We will argue that the person of Jesus Christ must be kept in view when

employing a figural interpretation, especially of the Old Testament.2 This claim is a

1 This can be seen in some of the frequent modern critiques of the historical critical method. What is

called the “historical critical” approach attempted to read the Bible as any other book. This meant asking critical questions of authorship, date, location, etc. Thus limited, the method bore much fruit. However, the historical critical method had little interest in the relevance of the biblical text for the life of the church. Further, figuralism was often seen as a theological intrusion upon the text. However, without it, the bridge between text and people is impaired. We will not be engaging with the debate over the merits of historical criticism, yet those who wish to probe further on this topic might compare: R. W. L. Moberly, “‘Interpret the Bible Like Any Other Book’? Requiem for an Axiom,” Journal of Theological Interpretation 4, no. 1 (Spring 2010): 91–110; Nate Dawson, “Making the Shift to Theological Interpretation of Scripture,” Anglican Theological Review 99, no. 4 (Fall 2017): 753–62; Stephen Fowl, “Theological Interpretation of Scripture and Its Future,” Anglican Theological Review 99, no. 4 (Fall 2017): 671–90; Brevard Childs, Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979); Hans Frei, The Eclipse of Biblical Narrative: Studies in Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Hermeneutics (New York: Yale University Press, 1974); B. H. McLean, Biblical Interpretation and Philosophical Hermeneutics (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012); Ephraim Radner, The End of The Church: A Pneumatology of Christian Division in the West (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998); and Ephraim Radner, Hope Among The Fragments: The Broken Church and Its Engagement with Scripture (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2004).

2 One can compare the helpful discussion on Christ and interpretation in: John Behr, The Mystery of Christ: Life in Death (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2006); Henri De Lubac, History and Spirit: The Understanding of Scripture According to Origen (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2007); Christopher R. Seitz, The Character of Christian Scripture: The Significance of a Two-Testament Bible (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011); T. F. Torrance, Trinitarian Faith: The Evangelical Theology of The Ancient Catholic Church (New York: T & T Clark, 1997), 34, 36–37, 46. Torrance describes how the early church’s interpretive rule (the “rule of faith”) is perhaps best understood as the “apostolic deposit of faith.” This “deposit” is certainly contained in the Scriptures, but it became incumbent on the Early Church to protect this deposit by articulating its truth with language not found in the Scriptures. More specifically, argues Torrance, the homoousion (the person of Christ as fully God) became the interpretive lens by which they read Scripture.

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traditional one, but in practice it has often been obscured, to great harm. To advance this

argument we will engage the writings of a number of Civil War era individuals. Readers of

this thesis will likely encounter arguments and interpretive methods that they will find highly

offensive. However, despite the controversial nature of the material, the time period is highly

illustrative. Examination of the writings of this period could prove useful to current biblical

interpreters who continue to think through figuralism, including its moral consequences in

contexts of race and violence.

The American Civil War was a momentous event for the nation, forcing a bloody resolution

to the crisis of slavery that had challenged the American political system since its inception.

James McPherson has said that no other moment in American history was as definitive in the

shaping of the national identity.3 There was also never a time when the various Protestant

denominations exerted so much cultural and political influence. American statesmen were

well aware of this, and many feared for the fate of the country when the major denominations

began to divide in the 1840s.4 The impact of religion on culture and politics was especially

profound in the South. There, Presbyterians were the intellectual leaders despite being fewer

in number than the Baptists and Methodists.5

Our argument will be based on a series of nineteenth century case studies. We will focus

special attention on an overlooked but highly influential figure in the Southern Presbyterian

Church, Benjamin Morgan Palmer. Chapter one will comprise the approach of this thesis, an

introduction to Benjamin Morgan Palmer, and a brief examination of the historical

interpretive tradition of Genesis 9. Chapters two and three will examine Palmer’s use of the

Scriptures, particularly the Old Testament, and his attempts to lay out a Christian social

vision for the South. We will see that Palmer continually engaged in figural exegesis despite

3 James M. McPherson, “Out of War, a New Nation,” Prologue 42, no. 1 (Spring 2010): 5. 4 See C. C. Goen, Broken Churches, Broken Nation: Denominational Schisms and the Coming of the

American Civil War (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1988); Robert J. Miller, Both Prayed to the Same God: Religion and Faith in the American Civil War (New York: Lexington, 2007).

5 Presbyterians were consciously aware of this. See Robert Baker White, “The Influence of

Presbyterianism on the Culture of the Human Intellect and the Progress of Piety,” Southern Presbyterian Review 9, no. 2 (1855): 161–88.

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explicitly denying that he did so and advancing instead a supposedly neutral scientific

method. Palmer’s figuralism had no Christological check, and thus he had liberty to draw

objectionable conclusions from the Old Testament texts on race and violence. We will argue

that without a Christological lens through which to practice figural interpretation, some other

lens will be employed. In Palmer’s case, the lens was a Southern agenda.

Chapter four will turn to a case study of James Henley Thornwell, a mentor and friend of

Palmer’s. Thornwell was regarded by many Americans as one of the leading intellectuals in

the South. We will see that Thornwell also denied the validity of figural interpretation. Yet

he seems to have recognized that without some use of figuralism, applying the Scriptures to

contemporary situations becomes very problematic. Thus, when thinking through the

national crisis, Thornwell instead relied most heavily on political-philosophical ideas of

social stability. Perhaps realizing that he had no developed figural hermeneutic, he

abandoned the Scriptures altogether as a basis for his social vision.

Chapter five will contrast these uses of Scripture and reactions to the national crisis with

those of a Northern Presbyterian, Robert L. Stanton, and a few contemporary African

Americans. Stanton, who took positions in direct opposition to Palmer and Thornwell,

surprisingly came to many of the same biblical and ethical conclusions as his Southern

counterparts. We will suggest that this is the case because his figuralism also lacked

engagement with the person of Christ; where the Southerners substituted a concern for a

Southern agenda in the place of Christ, Stanton placed national concerns. While we may find

Stanton’s moral conclusions more attractive than those of his Southern peers, his use of

biblical figuration was equally distorted. In contrast, we will find more significant sources of

alternate biblical interpretations based on a Christocentric figuralism among African

Americans. We will conclude in chapter six with some final observations on Palmer and a

few suggestions for the direction of contemporary theological interpretation.

It is important not to anachronize Palmer and his work. From the perspective of more than

150 years after the Civil War, one could dismiss the positions of a Southern preacher as

exclusively racist. However, such a move would not allow us to learn much; nor would it

take into account the sincerity and earnestness with which the Southern preachers operated.

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By all accounts, Southerners like Palmer acted in good faith according to their understanding

of Scripture and humanity. Moreover, Civil War era preachers, particularly the Presbyterians,

were theologically very creative. Their views on Scripture also exerted wide cultural

influence. As we will see, their engagement with Scripture marked an important turning

point in the history of interpretation. They employed a type of figural reading while

attempting to explicitly move beyond this into a hermeneutic they believed was more

accurate and scientific. Their hope was that such a new reading would be universally

comprehensible and applicable. Yet, with opinions, churches, and the nation divided, this

effort proved to be a failure. The heightened and extreme circumstances of this era serve to

magnify these interpretive maneuvers, which might be instructive to us as we approach the

Scriptures in a society that has been profoundly shaped by issues of war and race.

1.2 Benjamin Morgan Palmer

Palmer was a singular preacher and intellectual in the Presbyterian Church (North and South)

before and after the American Civil War.6 After the death in 1862 of his mentor, James

6 Stephen R. Haynes, Noah’s Curse: The Biblical Justification of American Slavery (New York:

Oxford University Press, 2002), 125. Haynes writes: “Palmer was the ‘founding father’ of the Southern Presbyterian church, one of New Orleans’ most esteemed citizens during the second half of the nineteenth century, and among the great pulpit orators of his generation. He is credited by friend and foe alike with tipping the scales in favor of secession in Louisiana and with boosting the Confederacy’s moral legitimacy in the Old Southwest.” See also: Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 127. In regard to the importance of concentrating largely on an individual during this period, compare the comment by Bozeman: “Important ‘minds’ of the period remain but sketchily traced, if discerned at all.” Theodore Dwight Bozeman, Inductive and Deductive Politics: Science and Society in Antebellum Presbyterian Thought (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977), 704. Most Southern ministers in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries questioned the institution of slavery and sought emancipation. However, after slave insurrections and with the increasing profitability of slavery (especially with the invention of the cotton gin), ministers found ways to reconcile themselves to slavery. This can be seen in the records of the Presbyterian General Assembly over the course of the early to mid-nineteenth century (see chapter four), but compare the minutes of the 1847 General Assembly; Rev. J. H. Thornwell, “The General Assembly,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 2 (September 1847): 101–2. Hence, we are examining a figure who was prominent at a time when slavery was no longer questioned in the South by clergymen. Before the Old School Presbyterian Church split on geographical lines, the North had already capitulated to the South. When letters from the Free Church of Scotland and the General Assembly of the Church of Ireland were read and found to be predominantly concerned with the subject of slavery, all communication from those bodies was to cease until they restrained themselves from bringing up the subject of slavery. This feud between Old School Presbyterians and Ireland, Scotland, and even Canada had been going on since at least 1845. See Elisabeth T. Adams, “Divided Nation, Divided Church: The Presbyterian Schism, 1837–1838,” The Historian

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Henley Thornwell, few rivaled Palmer’s influence in the South.7 Palmer’s essays and

sermons span more than fifty years and will form the foundation for our assessment of his

thought.8 In order to make an accurate assessment of his thinking, a wide but selective use of

these writings will be made. Sermons or writings were chosen because of their theological

density, wide distribution, and socially programmatic nature. Although some authors have

recognized the importance of Palmer’s thought and writings, no other author has examined

Palmer as a case study in mid-nineteenth century hermeneutics. That is, none have taken the

time to delineate exactly what Palmer was doing with the Bible. Indeed, in examinations of

nineteenth century hermeneutics, scholars have tended to focus on developments in Europe

or the American North, not the South. Since religion, politics, and culture in the mid-

nineteenth century South were so intertwined, a thorough examination of hermeneutics can

be crowded out by other issues. This thesis aims to make a specific contribution to an

understanding of mid-nineteenth century Southern hermeneutics.

4, no. 4 (1992): 693. See also Kenneth Moore Startup, The Root of All Evil: The Protestant Clergy and the Economic Mind of the Old South (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1997), 68. Palmer’s thought and ministry were formed in a time when the South had become aggressive and defensive.

7 Stephen R. Haynes, “Race, National Destiny, and the Sons of Noah in the Thought of Benjamin M.

Palmer,” The Journal of Presbyterian History 78, no. 2 (2000): 135. Haynes writes: “Following the death of James Henley Thornwell in 1862, Palmer became the undisputed intellectual and emotional leader of the Southern Presbyterian Church.” For more biographical information on Palmer see: Thomas Cary Johnson, The Life and Letters of Benjamin Morgan Palmer (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1906); Christopher M. Duncan “Benjamin Morgan Palmer: Southern Presbyterian Divine,” (PhD diss., Auburn University, 2008); Wayne Carter Eubank, “Benjamin Morgan Palmer, Southern Divine,” (Master’s thesis, Louisiana State University and Agricultural & Mechanical College, 1943); John William Lancaster, “Presbyterian Preaching in Time of Crisis: Benjamin M. Palmer,” (Master’s thesis, Austin Presbyterian Seminary, 1960); Doralyn Joanne Hickey, “Benjamin Morgan Palmer: Churchman of the Old South,” (PhD diss., Duke University, 1962).

8 These writings will receive special examination: The Relation Between the Work of Christ and the

Condition of the Angelic World (1847), A Plea for Doctrine as the Instrument of Sanctification (1849), Baconianism and the Bible (1852), Our Historic Mission (1858), Slavery a Divine Trust (1861; also known as the “The Thanksgiving Sermon”), The Oath of Allegiance to the United States Discussed in its Moral and Political Bearings (1863), The Rainbow Round the Throne (1863), A Discourse before the General Assembly of South Carolina (1863), Palmer’s opposition to unification with the Northern Presbyterian Church (1865–1880), The Present Crisis and its Issues (1872), The Ancient Hebrew Polity (1898), and “Palmer’s Century Sermon” (1901). In this chapter early articles from the highly influential and widely read Southern Presbyterian Review which Palmer edited and to which he regularly contributed will be used as representative examples of contemporary thought and writing in the Southern Presbyterian church.

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Palmer believed slavery was a “providential trust” given to the South for the good of

humanity. Today, such a thought appears absurdly cruel. Yet, a belief that Providence was

actively working in America for the good of the world was a shared national assumption.

Viewing African Americans as inferior to Euro-Americans was another assumption that was

broadly shared. Palmer blended these two assumptions into something uniquely Southern.

The issues of race and nationality that Palmer dealt with continue to confront us today. We

will offer observations on what Palmer did under three broad categories: Scripture,

Providence, and history. The writings of Palmer engage these three categories from his

earliest days until his death. If we can examine these themes in the writings of such a

defining figure for the South as Palmer, we will gain a much better idea of what was

happening theologically in the South at large and, to some extent, in the rest of the nation.

Thus Palmer’s writings may provide important raw data for a study of hermeneutics and

methodology in biblical studies. The unique aspect of this thesis, in contrast to other work

done on the Civil War era, will be to provide a better understanding of mid-nineteenth

century Southern hermeneutics and, through this, to argue that the most helpful way for the

church to read and apply the Scriptures is through a figuralism centered around the person of

Jesus Christ.

Palmer’s use of Scripture employs a sort of figural appropriation of the Old Testament,

reading the South directly into its pages. Figural interpretation of the Bible was a common

practice at the time. By “figural interpretation” we mean an interpretive outlook that sees the

Bible, especially the Old Testament, functioning as a container of symbols, images, and

figures of realities beyond themselves.9 For example, many biblical interpreters in the South

9 Palmer’s (and others’) interpretive methods can often be understood under the classic category of

typological interpretation (with a historical type and anti-type) and at times spiritual/allegorical. However, he never described his method as such and would certainly have argued that his interpretations were verifiable and scientific. See also: Nathan O. Hatch and Mark A. Noll, The Bible in America: Essays in Cultural History (New York: Oxford University Press, 1982), 5; Mitchell Snay, Gospel of Disunion: Religion and Separatism in the Antebellum South (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 189. Cf., Stephen Prickett, “The Bible and Literary Interpretation,” in The Blackwell Companion to Nineteenth-Century Theology, ed. David A. Fergusson (Malden, MA: Wiley & Sons, 2010), 395–411. Prickett, 404, observes that typological or figural interpretation maintained multiple threads of meaning (spiritual, historical, ethical) for a passage, whereas the emerging historical critical method developing in the nineteenth century began to view a passage as containing only a singular, mostly historically tethered, thread that could be scientifically examined. Palmer advocated such a

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understood the figure of Ham in Genesis 9 as representing the African American race. Yet

figuralism was not Palmer’s self-declared method. When considering his reading of

Scripture, we will have three things in view. First, we will observe that his avowed method

of reading Scripture was to move away from the type of figural readings employed in past

ages of church history. Instead, he claimed to pursue a scientific inductive method of

interpreting Scripture which purported to demonstrate divine truths that were as reliable and

universally communicable as natural laws. Second, we will observe that he did not in fact

follow this (supposedly) objective scientific method, but often haphazardly employed a

figural appropriation of the Scriptures, particularly of the Old Testament. Third, we will try

to see why this disjunction occurred and how it may be linked to Palmer’s views of slavery

and violence. As we suggested above, the issues of race and nationality that confronted

nineteenth century thinkers are still with us today. It may be possible for us to learn from

Palmer’s interpretive moves in response to societal concerns.

1.3 Interpretive Traditions

1.3.1 Genesis 9:18–27 and the Curse of Ham

If we are to understand Palmer, we also need to understand something of the complicated

interpretive history of Genesis 9 and “the curse of Ham.” A key element in this history is the

transition that occurred over time, from the Early Church’s interpretation of the text to later

ages. The interpretive tendency seems to reveal a series of movements away from a figural

reading of Genesis 9 governed by the suffering of Christ (where the sinner was understood to

be a “slave” or “black” and in need of the corresponding freedom and purity of Christ),

scientific approach. Michael L. Kamen, “The Science of the Bible in Nineteenth-Century America: From ‘Common Sense’ to Controversy, 1820–1900,” (PhD diss., Notre Dame, 2004), 258, 268, observes that the mindset of Common Sense philosophy and scientific innovation had begun to move biblical interpreters toward a more historical approach. However, neither Noll, Prickett, nor Kamen observe Southern interpreters like Palmer who espoused such an approach but did not in fact follow through; rather, Palmer employing a figural method in interpreting the Scriptures. Prickett and Kamen, like many examining the nineteenth century, focus on Northern American and European developments. The peculiarities typical of biblical interpretation that occurred in the South are not often examined.

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toward a figuralism without any reference to Christ. This shift led to a reading of the text that

often attempted to trace geography and ethnicity in a quasi-historical fashion, unmoored

from the gospel. Eventually this kind of reading encouraged a widespread belief that African

peoples are direct descendants of cursed Ham.

The warrant for slavery thereby found in Genesis 9 also became a way to understand the

societal order. This aim was not necessarily malicious; the problem has been common

throughout history: what is a ruling and established people group to do with a very different

or newly encountered people group (e.g., Jews or Africans)? How does the ruling majority

arrange society and conduct itself alongside this other group? However, the belief based on

the interpretation that Genesis 9 showed that ethnicity linked to Ham could necessitate

subordination to a ruling class left a destructive legacy. David Goldenberg has said, “The

Bible is not so much a framework, conceptual and structural, into which all subsequent

thinking must fit (conform), as it is a grid upon which postbiblical thinking asserts itself, and

in the process changes the biblical blueprint.”10 In many ways, the history of the

interpretation of Genesis 9 bears this out: Palmer used the text as a biblical mandate for the

hierarchy of races. In the section that follows, we will examine the history of the figural

interpretation of Genesis 9. In order to understand what Palmer was doing with the

Scriptures, it will be helpful to see what sort of interpretive tradition he inherited. This short

survey will begin to describe some of the interpretive tendencies that were passed down to

Palmer. In the past twenty years, scholarship focusing on Genesis 9, figural interpretation,

and racism has been a focus of interest, and we will summarize some of this work as well.11

10 David M. Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham: Race and Slavery in Early Judaism, Christianity, and

Islam (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003), 8.

11 Especially five very well-researched books: Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham; Stephen R. Haynes, Noah’s Curse; M. Lindsay Kaplan, Figuring Racism in Medieval Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019); Colin Kidd, The Forging of Races: Race and Scripture in the Protestant Atlantic World, 1600–2000 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006); David M. Whitford, The Curse of Ham in the Early Modern Era: The Bible and the Justification for Slavery (Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 2009).

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1.3.2 Early Figural and Spiritual Interpretation

Philo (ca. 20 B.C.E. – 50 C.E.) read Genesis 9 using a method of spiritual figuration. He

found it easy to interpret the often perplexing distinction between Ham and Canaan by

conflating their actions, writing, “When Ham has been moved to sin, he himself becomes

Canaan, for it is a single subject, evil, which is presented in two different aspects, rest and

motion.”12 Philo saw the active sin of Ham (looking on the nakedness of his father Noah) and

the passive sin of Canaan (doing nothing about it) as two sides of one evil figurative act.

Identifying the ethnic descendants of Ham was not a concern for him. Ham and Canaan stood

as one figural representation of any corrupt person.

The first book of Enoch (mid-second century B.C.E.) approached the text with a similar

concern for morality. In a section of the text often referred to as the “Animal Apocalypse”

(substituting animals for individuals), Cain, Ham, and Esau are black while Adam, Seth,

Noah, Shem, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are white.13 The colors were not associated with

race but seemed to indicate righteousness/unrighteousness.

Justin Martyr (ca. 100–165 C.E.) understood Noah to be a type of Christ. Origen (ca. 185–

254) similarly viewed Christ as the spiritual and true Noah. By extension, Haynes observes:

“to many of the church fathers, the ark was a fitting symbol of Christ’s church, in which the

faithful are rescued from the tumults of a wicked world.”14 These figural associations were

also depicted in early Christian art. If Noah was Christ, the ark became a sort of sarcophagus

holding his body until the resurrection. Augustine (354–430) identified the nakedness of

Noah with the shameful torturing of Christ. For Augustine, just as the pagan Roman guards

had looked scornfully on the broken body of Christ, so Ham represented “the tribe of

heretics.”15 In fact, according to Augustine, Ham represented not only pagans but also

12 Quoted in Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 150.

13 See Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 152.

14 Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 27.


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hypocritical Christians; both “seem to be figured by Noah’s middle son.”16 Likewise, Hilary

of Poitiers (ca. 310–ca. 367) viewed the three sons as representing “three sorts of relationship

to God” and Ham as “the pagans who mock the dead Savior and the nude body of God.”17

For the majority of early interpreters, Ham had no intrinsic connection to geography or

ethnicity. Even for those who did ascribe ethnicity to the figure of Ham (as we will see with

Origen), such an ethnic connection was not the main point of the biblical text. The Bible,

rather, was meant to teach a spiritual and redemptive truth.

Goldenberg observes that seeds for an interpretive shift were sown as some exegetes began

to press the idea that when “Ham was cursed . . . all of Ham’s descendants inherited the

curse—that is, Egypt, Kush, Put, and Canaan. . . . Indeed, this notion is common in patristic

and rabbinic literature, especially in regard to Egypt.”18 Goldenberg goes on to cite Origen

and rabbinic sources that show the common belief that Egyptians were born suited to slavery.

Clement (ca. 150–215) also seems to have understood Ham and his progeny in more literal

terms, believing that his offspring were responsible for the beginning of demonic magic and

human sacrifice.19 Irenaeus (ca. 130–200) indicated that Ham’s guilt was transferred to all

his offspring. Despite these variations in the early interpretations of Genesis 9, some leaning

toward a moral interpretation and some toward a more literal, there remained a tendency to

read the passage in a figural way centered around the body of Christ. Moreover, even the

early interpretations that tied the consequences for Ham’s actions to his “descendants” had

nothing to do with skin color.20 This was similar for early Jewish sources.21

Slowly, a creeping prejudice began to find its way into interpretations of Genesis 9. Part of

the reason for this may have been increasingly frequent attempts to deal with people groups



18 Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 159.


20 Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 168–69. 21 Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 168–69.

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who were perceived as hostile or destabilizing. These people groups were mostly located

beyond the bounds of the Roman Empire, and they were feared as threats. However, there

was no prominent group within the Roman Empire that conjured up such feelings. If

anything, such emotive connections once were associated with the marginalized Christians.

Thus, while specific geographical prejudices began to appear, these were not directed against

people of a certain race or skin, but towards anyone outside the bounds of the empire.

However, when particular groups were perceived as threatening social stability,

interpretations of Genesis 9 moved from implying general prejudices to encouraging specific

forms of racism.

1.3.3 Medieval Figural and Societal Interpretation

Early Medieval interpretation of Genesis 9 displays a large degree of continuity with earlier

interpretations. Noah was almost always understood as a precursor of Christ, and the ark as a

symbol of grace bearing God’s people through the world.22 However, while the figure of

Noah remained firmly attached to Christ, the figure of Ham continued to follow an

interpretive trajectory toward a particular identifiable people group. Isidore of Seville (560–

632) seemed to believe that Ham’s progeny were to be found in Africa, while he associated

Asia with Shem and Europe with Japheth.23 Ham was also, variously, believed to be the

father of Zoroastrianism, of Sodom, the pagans, and of unbelieving Jews.24 Even here we see

an uneven blend of literal identification of Ham’s descendants and a spiritual interpretation.

The use of Genesis 9 increasingly began to become a way of understanding how society

should best be organized. Theologian Honorarius of Autun (1080–1151) believed that Ham,

Shem, and Japheth represented society’s three estates. Similarly, in the windows of Chartres

Cathedral (1235–1240), Noah’s sons are portrayed as forerunners of social classes, with Ham




12

representing the serfs.25 The noted German teacher, Hugo von Trimberg (ca. 1230–1313),

held a comparable view on how the text indicated social stratification. Here was a more

explicit way of saying that Ham has literal progeny, and when those people are identified

they belong in a subservient position with respect to others. However, this attempt at literal

identification did not yet include skin color.

The connection between slavery, ethnicity and skin color began to be most explicitly seen

first in Islamic sources from the eighth to the tenth centuries.26 The logic linking slavery,

ethnicity, and skin color more broadly went something like this: since Africans are drawn

from Ham, all Africans are fitted for slavery, and notably, Africans have dark skin.

Goldenberg makes an important observation:

At this time in the Near East and in the Roman world the black African was becoming increasingly identified as a slave. Once this equation was made, it forced a reinterpretation of the biblical story from Canaan to Ham as the ancestor of the slaves. Ham, not Canaan, was the father of the dark-skinned peoples of the world. . . . The Curse of Ham was born.27

In the seventh and eighth centuries, Islamic and other Near Eastern texts suggesting that the

progeny of Ham had inherited the “dual curse” of slavery and blackness were widespread.

As Goldenberg observes, these traditions developed during and after the Islamic conquest of

Africa.28 Notably, this identification of slavery with black skin color also recurred in the

early modern period when Christian Europe re-encountered Africa in the fifteenth century.29

Goldenberg writes, “The Curse of Ham, in its various forms, became a very powerful tool for


26 See Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 160–64.

27 Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 166–67. See also Davis, who writes that there was “widespread

existence of Islamic antiblack racism from the tenth century onward.” David Brion Davis, “The Culmination of Racial Polarities and Prejudice,” Journal of the Early Republic 19, no. 4 (Winter 1999): 763.



13

maintaining the existing order in society.”30 The identification between a curse, slavery, and

skin color continued to gain momentum despite the fact that very little of this reasoning

could be found in a plain reading of the text of Genesis 9.

Along with the above considerations, it is important to bring into the conversation the

treatment of the Jews throughout the medieval era and the notion of the servitus Judaeorum

(“servitude of the Jews”). Kaplan describes how the concept of the spiritual inferiority of the

Jews was later transformed into an expectation of Jews’ social subservience, regulated by

ecclesial canon law. Augustine argued for the concept of Jewish servitude to Christians.

What he meant was that Jews needed to come to Christians for God’s final articulation of his

redemptive plan.31 Thus, Jews are indebted to Christians. This is also why Jews were

occasionally referred to as “book servants.” Christians had the documents from God that

Jews needed. Since the Jewish people rejected Christ and his accompanying freedom, they

became slaves to their own texts.32

The emerging concept of servitus Judaeorum became increasingly harsh as it lingered in the

church. Not only were Jews seen to be in subjection to Christians, their spiritual state was

described in relation to the marks of physical deformities. Jews were conceived as dark-

skinned with distorted facial features.33 Yet, if they converted to Christianity, they were

conceived as white. Kaplan observes that this trajectory “anticipates modern racism.”34 This

deformed imaging of Jews “enables the reapplication of these figures [dark skin and physical

features] to similarly justify and subordinate other infidels: Muslims and the pagan

inhabitants of Africa.”35 This seems to have been justified by a poorly governed figuralism


31 Kaplan, Figuring Racism, 29.


33 Kaplan, Figuring Racism, 57–80. They were perceived to be afflicted with other physical

abnormalities as well, such as hemorrhoidal bleeding, black bile, and various diseases.



14

with respect to the Jewish people, in which interpretive practice had floated far away from its

anchor in Christ and toward literal, societal forms of organization. That is, an explicit

intention to first see the Scriptures as a way to relate oneself to God was becoming replaced

(in some instances) with an attempt to first see the Scriptures as a providential blueprint for

society. Kaplan argues that this ill-shaped theological framework resulted eventually into a

descent into bigotry.36 It became normative to believe that forms of servitude constituted part

of a stable society, and that some ethnicities were divinely appointed to such servitude (i.e.,

Ham was destined to serve Japheth and Shem). What drove this figural interpretation was not

an evangelical concern, but a concern for the conservation of the social status quo and fear of

a potentially problematic outgroup. We will see this hermeneutic approach play out with

Palmer, as a need for social conservatism coupled with fear over a particular group of people

resulted in warped figural interpretations.37 Thus, the figural interpretation of Genesis 9

began to shift to a figuralism without much reference to the person of Christ, and this shift

gave impetus to the formation and regulation of a racialized social hierarchy.

In 1205 Pope Innocent III (1198–1216) included the concept of Jewish servitude and

submission in his influential decretal Esti Judaeos. The opinion contained in Esti Judaeos

was codified into canon law by Pope Gregory IX (ca. 1170–1241) in the Decretals 1234.38 In

the Decretals Gregory posed the question, “Is it possible that a Christian could buy a pagan

or Jewish slave? I respond yes, [citing Esti Judaeos].”39 Kaplan observes that figuration as

the basis for servitude led to an increasing belief in the ontological condition of inferiority

which ultimately resulted in an inferior legal status in society for Jews.40


37 The desire to protect the status quo and the fear of a threatening outgroup could be categorized under economic concerns, as some have done; see Tim Rayborn, The Violent Pilgrimage: Christians, Muslims and Holy Conflicts, 850–1150 (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2013). This interpretation could certainly be applied to the nineteenth century South.

38 Kaplan, Figuring Racism, 34–45.



15

What is important to note here is the association of black not with pagans in general but with

the ethnic Jewish people in particular. Kaplan reproduces a number of astonishing plates

from illuminated Psalters of the thirteenth century. In these depictions, Jesus is white, with a

halo, while Jews are dark-skinned with red hair, malicious eyes, and deformed noses. One

example shows a Christian washing a blind Jewish convert who, as a result, becomes white.

In a parallel plate, a blind Jew refuses conversion and remains dark-skinned.41 Ethnicity, skin

color, and inferiority were all being tightly packaged together. Hundreds of years prior to

this, the early church had had contact with a great variety of people groups that could be

identified as the descendants of Ham (e.g., pagans, foreigners, heretics). However, there was

greater homogeneity in Christian medieval culture in Europe. Since the influence of this

interpretive history lingered (Ham needing to be identified with some people group), it found

a referent in the Jewish people, who were one of the few non-Christian groups in regular

contact with the larger Christian society. Thus, although early in the history of interpretation

Ham could stand for any unredeemed sinner (pagan, Jew, or hypocritical Christian), in the

late medieval era, Jews began to be exclusively burdened with the cursed designation.

The Jewish people even began to be geographically identified with an African Ham.42 It

would seem inconceivable for Jews and an African Ham to be linked, but the potential

explanatory power of a figural reading of Genesis 9 was very adaptable. Kaplan writes,

The same authors who develop the most influential and negative association of Ham with cursed, subjected Jews also advance a reading of Ham as the father of African peoples. These latter accounts emphasize Ham’s geographical significance rather than advance a moral or allegorical interpretation.43

An example of this confusion can be seen in the writings of the Frankish theologian and

archbishop Rabanus Maurus (ca. 780–856). He wrote: “Egypt . . . is called Ham. This

indicates the image of the Jews, who mock Christ’s body and death.” Thus Egypt is Ham,

who is also Israel. There is no attempt to sort out how the various strands of geography,



43 Kaplan, Figuring Racism, 121–22.

16

figuration, and biblical text can be held together.44 Thus is an instance of an interpreter

utilizing one strand of the tradition that sees Christ mocked by Ham woven together with the

other strand of the tradition that sees Ham as a particular people group (as opposed to

“sinners” generally). Kaplan reproduces an image from a thirteenth century parchment roll

showing “Cham” (Ham) as the father of Canaan, who eventually begat the Jews; and Chus,

who begat the Egyptians and Africans.45 Thus, Ham is the father of both the Jews and the

Egyptians. Figuration and geography were becoming increasingly confused.

In the Reformation era, Kaplan observes, “new Protestant approaches to Bible interpretation

reduced the dominance of typological approaches, resulting in more literal, rather than

figural, interpretations of Ham.”46 As a result, the tendency that had lingered from early

stages in the conception of Genesis 9 was strengthened—a particular people group was

sought for the referent Ham and to justify societal organization but having little reference to

Christ. This figural confusion and the need to identify Ham with a potentially threatening

group can be seen during the Reformation; then, instead of the Jews exclusively bearing the

burden of Ham, the Roman Catholic Church also did.47 As the European explorers began to

encounter previously unknown and potentially harmful groups (especially Africans), the

Jews as figural referents of Genesis 9 continued to fade into the background.48 All of this set

the stage for the reading of Genesis 9 in the early modern era.

Before moving into the Early Modern era, I want to observe a few things concerning the

church’s relationship with slavery in its first thousand years. We see a complicated history;



46 Kaplan, Figuring Racism, 128. Kaplan’s terminology here is not as precise as that toward which we

are aiming. Every Biblical interpretation involves some sort of “literal” reading. However, we agree with Kaplan in so far as he implies that the interpretation of Genesis 9 was moving toward being exclusively interpreted as a way to understand differences among historical people groups.


48 Kaplan, Figuring Racism, 134. Davis is of the opinion that slavery caused racism, in the sense that negative stereotypes of inferior classes throughout history (as we saw with Jewish people) “were ultimately transferred to black slaves.” Davis, “Culmination,” 762.

17

nevertheless, there was a trend toward promoting the humanity and equality of slaves. While

there are instances of the church supporting slavery, there are also instances of the church

encouraging masters to free their slaves as an act of piety beneficial to their own souls.49 The

humanization of the slave was further enhanced by urging slaves to attend church services

with free laborers.50 In the early medieval era under Pope Gregory the Great (ca. 540–604),

the Roman church became a place of refuge for slaves.51 In the sixth century, the church

began to outlaw the enslavement of Christians.52 Christian leaders seemed to have viewed

foreign exile and slavery as particularly reprehensible since it could cut the slave off from the

sacraments.53 By the tenth and eleventh centuries, a number of factors coalesced to replace

the slave system with serfdom in Western Europe.54 While this is due in part to the church’s

positive influence, there were also other contributing factors: agricultural innovations did not

require such large scale labor; fewer wars resulted in fewer foreign captives; an increasing

difficulty in justifying the treatment of people from the same culture as sub-human.

Throughout history, the relation of baptism and slavery was at times a contentious issue.

Since Christians well knew that baptism joins a person to the one, unified body of Christ, this

was often thought to disrupt the master-slave relationship. In the ninth century, some Jewish

slaves wished to take advantage of baptism. Louis the Pious (778–840), son of Charlemagne,

stated that masters who allowed this were at risk of being anathema (cursed) and certainly in

49 Marc Bloch, Slavery and Serfdom in the Middle Ages (Los Angeles: University of California Press,

1975), 14; David A. E. Pelteret, Slavery in Early Mediaeval England: From the Reign of Alfred until the Twelfth Century (Rochester, NY: Boydell Press, 1995), 85–86, 129, 130, 150. See also Rayborn, The Violent Pilgrimage.

50 Pierre Bonnassie, From Slavery to Feudalism in South-Western Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).

51 Adam Serfass, “Slavery and Pope Gregory the Great,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 14, no. 1

(Spring 2006): 103. 52 Bloch, Slavery and Serfdom, 17.

53 Daniel Donoghue, “Lawman, Bede, and the Context of Slavery,” in Reading Layamon's Brut: Approaches and Explorations, ed. Rosamund Allen, Jane Roberts and Carol Weinberg, 197–213. DQR Studies in Literature 52 (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2013), 207, 209.

54 Bonnassie, From Slavery to Feudalism; see also Pierre Dockes, Medieval Slavery and Liberation

(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982).

18

danger of losing their property.55 Yet, Louis’ opinion was not universally shared. Archbishop

Agobard of Lyon was in favor of baptising Jewish slaves.56 In thirteenth century Valencia,

since the act of baptism had deep implications for freedom, a second act of manumission had

to occur in order for the slave to be released from servitude.57 Similar complications between

slavery and baptism developed in the slaveholding American South. In the late seventeenth

and early eighteenth centuries, English planters were hesitant for their slaves to receive

religious instruction because if a slave converted, there was a “fear that baptism would

emancipate their slaves. . . . By 1706, at least six colonial legislatures had passed acts

denying that baptism altered the condition of a slave.”58 Eventually, masters began to argue

that slaves were incapable of religious instruction due to racial inferiority.59 Raboteau

observes that what “many masters feared was the egalitarianism implicit in Christianity.”60

We will return to the issue of slavery and baptism in chapter five. These observations on the

church’s relationship with slavery will be important to remember when we encounter

Thornwell’s argument that slavery has always been—a universal constant. This is not

entirely true. The church had often inclined toward freedom (including Thornwell’s own

American Presbyterian church in the early years, as we will see in chapter four).

1.3.4 Early Modern Interpretation

55 Anna Beth Langenwalter, “Agobard of Lyon: An Exploration of Carolingian Jewish-Christian

Relations,” (PhD diss., University of Toronto, 2009), 28.

56 Langenwalter, “Agobard of Lyon,” 132. 57 Debra Blumenthal, Enemies and Familiars: Slavery and Mastery in Fifteenth-Century Valencia

(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2009), 129, 251.

58 Albert J. Raboteau, Slave Religion: The “Invisible Institution” in the Antebellum South (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 98.

59 Raboteau, Slave Religion, 100–101.

60 Raboteau, Slave Religion, 102.

19

Martin Luther (1483–1546) understood Noah to be mainly a moral example, not a type of

Christ. Ham, for Luther, was conceived as a harbinger of many things: an example of evil

mischief, the founder of Babylon, and a type of the Roman Catholic Church.61 For John

Calvin (1509–1564), Ham was an example of wickedness. Haynes suggests that Calvin

portrayed Noah exclusively as a negative example (due to his intoxication after the flood),

but this is not entirely accurate and needlessly exaggerates the evidence.62 Nevertheless, in

both Luther and Calvin we see a continued distancing between Christ and Genesis 9.

As cultural confrontations accelerated and multiplied in this period, so the interpretation of

Genesis 9 increasingly followed the pattern seen during the Islamic conquests and in respect

to the Jewish people. Haynes writes, “With increasing European involvement in the African

slave trade came a growing interest in Noah’s curse as an explanation for racial slavery.”63

Portuguese scholar Gomes Eanes de Azurara (1410–1474) used Genesis 9 to justify the

enslavement of Africans. English explorer George Best (1555–1584) used Ham’s

disobedience to explain Africans’ skin as “black and loathsome [sic].”64 Some began to draw

on a tradition that another symbol of the African’s curse was the size of the male genitalia (in

relation to the belief that some sort of sexual indecency occurred while Noah slept).65

Augustin Calmet’s (1672–1757) Dictionary of the Bible, “probably the most influential

treatment of Ham and his curse to appear in the eighteenth century,” incorrectly promoted

the old “idea that Ham’s name means ‘burnt, swarthy or black.’”66

61 Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 32–33.

62 Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 34. Calvin states in his commentary on Genesis 9 that Noah’s drunkenness

was a “warning to others, that they should not become intoxicated by excessive drinking.” John Calvin, Commentaries on the First Book of Moses Called Genesis, trans. John King (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999), 301. Haynes omits that Calvin viewed Noah’s faith as a positive example for Christians in his comments on Genesis 7:1, 1 Peter 3:20, and Hebrews 11:7. Haynes’s point stands, however, as commentators were increasingly leaning away from a figural association between scriptural images and the person of Christ.




66 Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 38. See also Davis, who traces racist links between medieval Muslims, fifteenth century Iberians, seventeenth century northern Europeans, and on into the Atlantic slave trade in the New World. Davis, “Culmination,” 767.

20

The complexity of views regarding the proper referent for Ham and an accurate

understanding of “blackness” has caused Colin Kidd and others to suggest that “race itself is

a construct, an interpretation of nature rather than an unambiguous marker of basic natural

differences within humankind.”67 Not only is the interpretive history unclear about what

“race” actually is, so also Kidd observes that “a system of classification” built on race is a

“biological mirage . . . [and] scientifically incoherent.”68 He goes on to list a number of

physical characteristics that are not bound by skin color: fingerprints, earwax, body hair,

baldness, the ability to breakdown lactose. These physical traits are shared by a wide

diversity of “colors.” Thus, attribution of race according to skin color does not align with

race according to chemistry.69 This physical inconsistency signalling the vagueness of race is

likewise seen in the interpretive history of Ham. Prior to the attempt to decidedly fix his

cursed image to dark skin, Ham could have been Egyptian, Jewish, Roman Catholic, or

African.70

Kidd recounts that the attempt to explain people groups by way of concocted racial ideas and

Genesis 9 was not unique to the Western Christian tradition. In the late eighteenth and early

nineteenth centuries, when Indian thinkers began to have exposure to the Bible through

British scholars, some understood Genesis 9 as an explanation of the differences among

Indian people and classes. A similar thing happened among the Maori people in New

67 Colin Kidd, The Forging of Races, 3; see also the complexities of color in Emily C. Bartels, “Othello and Africa: Postcolonialism Reconsidered,” The William and Mary Quarterly 54, no. 1 (January 1997): 45–64.

68 Kidd, The Forging of Races, 3.

69 Kidd, The Forging of Races, 4–5; see also David Brion Davis, “Constructing Race: A Reflection,” The William and Mary Quarterly 54, no. 1 (January 1997): 7.

70 This helps us understand the emergence of the study of ethnology in the nineteenth century. Due to ideological or social commitments regarding the inferiority of some races, some nineteenth century scientists (esp., those less committed to the Protestant theological tradition of one common Adamic ancestor) began to articulate a plurality of early races with no original blood connection. Yet, even traditional Protestant scientists committed to monogenesis (i.e., a common Adamic origin for all races) often found ways to mitigate any meaningful connection between white and black (for example, an early separation of people groups, which then developed in isolation from one another). Kidd, The Forging of Races, 27–28. This was the case for Palmer, who defended monogenesis yet attempted to prove the need for subjugation of African Americans.

21

Zealand. Kidd writes, “Maori patriots insisted upon their ethnic origins in the noble lineage

of Shem,” thereby distancing themselves from connection to the reprehensible Ham.71

Another example of confusion in the use of the figure of Ham can be seen in the late

nineteenth century, as during the rise of romanticist theories regarding “original” African

wisdom, especially in the East African countries of Egypt and Ethiopia, the image of Ham

shifted to a more positive one. Eventually, Ham was used as a descriptor of the Tutsi people,

indicating more Caucasian-type features. The Tutsi even referred to themselves as

“Hamitic,” and yet also, oddly enough, as “Jews.”72 Here, then, Ham is linked favorably to

whiteness and the Jews.

Moreover, when Western Europe discovered the New World, there began to be a sense of

disorientation among intellectuals. They asked: “Why had the Bible made no mention of this

continent?”73 Once Native Americans were encountered, a natural collage of questions

necessarily followed: How do we to relate ourselves to these people? Are they Christian? If

not, are they sinners and in need of redemption, which automatically puts them in a

(subordinate) position of need? The misguided view of Genesis 9 as a geographic and

ethnological guide is again seen in the attempt by some intellectuals to explain the existence

of Native Americans as remnants of the lost tribes of Israel. Kidd states that this loose

“comparison was a means of fitting Amerindian peoples within the permitted parameters of

sacred history.”74

Mormon texts also display confused strands of thought on race. According to Mormon

teachings, Israelites had migrated to North America in 600 B.C.E. Joseph Smith may have

been drawing on the speculations of Ethan Smith (1762–1849; no relation) who advanced

71 Kidd, The Forging of Races, 38–39,

72 See Edith R. Sanders, “The Hamitic Hypothesis: Its Origin and Functions in Time Perspective,” The

Journal of African History 10, no. 4 (October 1969): 521–32; Yaacov Shavit, History in Black: African-Americans in Search of an Ancient Past (Portland, OR: Frank Cass, 2001); Ephraim Radner, A Brutal Unity: The Spiritual Politics of the Christian Church (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2012), 35–36.



22

similar ideas about the origins of North Americans in his View of the Hebrews (1823). In

Joseph Smith’s lesser work, The Pearl of Great Price, black Africans were seen to have

sprung from the cursed lineage of Cain and Ham. Yet, it was not dark skin and race that led

Mormons to believe that Africans were cursed. It was rather the belief that Africans were the

descendants of Ham. Kidd writes, “This explains why Mormons did not discriminate against

Polynesians, who were often darker than African-Americans, but who were not considered to

belong to the pedigree of Cain.”75 Again, we see the confusion between skin color and the

attempt to trace literal descendants of Ham.

The attempt to use Genesis 9 as a template for societal differences and racial explanations

has continued into the twentieth century. In South Africa, as the Dutch Reformed Church

sought to navigate apartheid, it issued a report following the 1974 General Synod. While

rejecting the idea that an interpretation of Ham ought to lead to the imposition of physical

slavery, they found Genesis 9 to be a useful text in describing racial differences. Other help

was found in Genesis 11 and the story of the Tower of Babel which supposedly provided a

justification for separate racial development. The Dutch Reformed Church concluded that a

unified society of people was unscriptural and would be doomed to experience judgement

from God. These examples give weight to the idea that apart from Christ, scriptural images

tend to wander and take on a life of their own.76

Figural arguments similar to these were taken up at various points by Southern theologians in

the eighteenth and nineteenth century American South. Most questioned justifications for the

institution of slavery and sought emancipation for slaves. However, after insurrections

occurred among slaves at home and after slavery had started to become more profitable

(especially with the invention of the cotton gin), ministers were forced to reconcile their

theology with the masters of a system that adamantly held to the institution of slavery.77 The

history of race in the early modern era, notably in the American South, can be seen as the


76 Kidd, The Forging of Races, 40–41.

77 Kidd, The Forging of Races, 40–41. Startup, The Root of All Evil, 68.

23

product of a distorted biblical vision which had begun to move away from a figurative

interpretation of Genesis 9 that engaged the body of Christ in even a minimal way. As Kidd

observes, many past interpreters of Genesis 9 and Ham were attempting “to explore how the

Other might fit.”78 However, this search seems to have too often been motivated by fear or

greed (in the belief that a threatening group was destabilizing to society but potentially

exploitable).79 This sort of distorted interpretation of the text, motivated by fear of a

potentially threatening group which can possibly be exploited, is the type of thinking we see

in apologies for the slave system of the American South.80

One’s prior understandings, beliefs, and presuppositions become foundational elements

undergirding one’s hermeneutic. However, these presuppositions are often unexamined. As

Kidd writes, biblical interpretation “often depends less, it seems, on the logic of the

scriptures than on the objectives of the interpreter.” 81 An ideology brought to the Scriptures

can be so strong that one’s ecclesial tradition or theological confession is no indication of

what one may do with a passage like Genesis 9.82 We will see this in the exegetical results of

Benjamin Morgan Palmer and James Henley Thornwell, who are otherwise conservative,

restrained, and aiming for coherence with the historical church.83

This is not to say that a Christological figuration (especially, a reading of the Old Testament

that attempts to see the text related to Christ in some way) would prohibit all traces of evil in


79 See also Davis, “Culmination,” 775.

80 For a comprehensive view of the nineteenth century South, see Elizabeth Fox-Genovese and Eugene

Genovese, The Mind of the Master Class: History and Faith in the Southern Slaveholder’s Worldview (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005).



83 For more information, see James O. Farmer, The Metaphysical Confederacy: James Henley

Thornwell and the Synthesis of Southern Values (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1999). See also Haynes: Haynes writes: “Palmer was the ‘founding father’ of the Southern Presbyterian church, one of New Orleans’ most esteemed citizens during the second half of the nineteenth century, and among the great pulpit orators of his generation. He is credited by friend and foe alike with tipping the scales in favor of secession in Louisiana and with boosting the Confederacy’s moral legitimacy in the Old Southwest.” Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 125.

24

formulating ethical conclusions. There was slavery in the early and medieval church (when

Christological figuration would have been more likely to have been employed). We are not

asserting that a certain type of figural reading will necessarily produce a positive ethical

application. Rather, we would suggest that a Christ-oriented figural reading of the text is

extremely helpful and, to some degree, necessary for the Bible’s proper application.

We will suggest that if Palmer and others had engaged in a greater struggle to see Jesus’

suffering for his enemies as a formative element in their hermeneutic, they may not have so

easily bent scriptural images toward supporting the racialized slavery agenda. Palmer cannot

simply be dismissed as a Southern bigot.84 Yet, he remains an example of how quickly things

can go awry without a hermeneutical struggle with the cross. Such a struggle would have

been difficult for Palmer, since it would not have offered him the stable society he sought.

Palmer was explicitly seeking a way to order society based on a providential plan. If he had

used the person of Christ as a model for the way persons relate, this would have, admittedly,

involved far more complicated social arrangements. It was far easier and less socially

disruptive to agree that African Americans needed to be enslaved.

If one reads the Bible as an authoritative text, applying some figurative lens is unavoidable.

Hence, it makes a great deal of difference what kind of lens one is employing in the

interpretive exercise. Figuration is not neutral. It will color the reading of the text.85 With a

distorted figuralism, the Bible can be used to justify horrendous acts. If one truly attempts to

avoid all figuralism, the Bible can become superfluous (becoming just a series of moral

demands, ranged alongside other texts or philosophies making competing demands). Figural

reading is not itself the cause of bias; rather, figural reading is necessary and requires its own

internal framework of moral accountability, something that was traditionally provided by

84 Davis, “Constructing Race,” 11. Davis concurs with the work of Eric Williams, who wrote, “slavery

was not born of racism: rather, racism was the consequence of slavery.” Eric Williams, Capitalism and Slavery (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1944), 7. While not excusing Palmer, the world he was born into may have contributed to his racism. See also Davis, “Culmination,” 760.

85 The church fathers knew this. We might compare Irenaeus’ classic statement on how an accurate

understanding of Jesus allows for the proper arrangement of texts. See Irenaeus, St. Irenaeus Against Heresies: The Complete English Translation from the first Volume of The Ante-Nicene Fathers (Oxford: James Parker and Co., 1872), 24, 25.

25

making central to all interpretation the figure of Christ, the great “antitype” of the Bible.

Losing this antitype, as it were, dissolved the interpretive project from the start.

We will see that while Palmer and Thornwell differed significantly in their interaction with

the Scriptures, they both consistently lacked an interaction with the “antitypical” body of

Christ when reading the Scriptures. When thinking through issues related to race, slavery, or

war, neither man struggled to understand those issues in the light of the crucified Lord,

something demanded by a centrally located antitypical figure of Christ. We will argue that

when the images of Scripture are read apart from any interaction with the person of Christ

they tend to roam, taking on an independent life of their own, and easily become captive to

personal bias. When the person of Christ is not used as a figural lens for reading and

application, the physicality of the images of Scripture can become divisive, as Japheth and

Ham came to stand in opposition to each other. However, as we read in Ephesians 2, the

physical body of Christ brings together the bodies of Jew and Gentile, ending their

segregation. We are suggesting that exactly because this is a comment by Paul on the status

of people in the kingdom of God, it must also be a comment on how a citizen of the kingdom

must interact with the physical images in Scripture. A reader must struggle to see how Christ

has brought these images together in his own body, as it were. Such a reading would affect

one’s view of providential history (how God is working in the world amongst people). This

is important to stress. Palmer had an extremely strong view of providential history,

particularly of how God has decreed that people and nations should interact. He built this

providential history through a figuralism where images representing peoples and nations

were in conflict (North versus South; White versus Black; etc.). We suggest that a

Christocentric figuralism (where the antitypical body of Christ brings together opposing

bodies) might allow for a vastly different understanding of providential history.

During the darkest times of American slavery, there was one group above all others that took

for themselves the shape of a crucified Christ: African Americans. The African American

community often figurally identified itself with exiled and marginalized Israel as led by

Moses and Jesus. This in turn seems to have encouraged their applying Scripture in a way

that resulted in their understanding their lives in a particular way, of traversing the earth in

their mortal bodies and of dealing with their oppressors. Their more physical, Christ-

26

oriented, figuration seemed to enable a different response to the physical people around

them. Thus, in chapter five, we will ask how the oppressed African American community—

who were at a severe disadvantage with no formal training and often not even possessing full

copies of the Scriptures—ended up looking much more like an image of the suffering Jesus

than the educated and established Southern white Christian community.

Again, we are not suggesting that a simple cause and effect relationship exists between

biblical hermeneutics and ethics (the relationship is necessary but not sufficient). That is, we

do not suggest that if Palmer had read the text differently, then he would not have argued for

slavery or war. Such a conclusion would be simplistic and not allow for the vast web of

complicated pressures through which he was formed. However, we will claim that

interactions with the Scriptures, especially the Old Testament, apart from recognition and

acknowledgement of the body of Christ are incapable of producing accountable readings and

may seek to justify abhorrent applications. That is, one’s method of reading and one’s ethical

conclusions fit with each other.

The question we are posing is: what reading of Scripture will best allow the Christian

community to conform to the image of Jesus Christ? Surely that must be the criterion,

especially amidst profound political and popular conflict, by which we can judge a proper

reading of and response to the Scriptures. Membership in an orthodox denomination (like the

Southern Presbyterian Church) and adherence to the guide of a Christian creed did not

automatically result in a Christ-like reading of the Bible. We will argue that, for the

Christian community to most clearly resemble Jesus Christ, it must engage in a figural

appropriation of the Scriptures, especially of the Old Testament, that not only permits but

demands that Jesus, the Christ, be seen as the antitypical center of biblical reference; in

doing so, the church will be pressed to view itself as the marginalized and sojourning

community exemplified in suffering Israel and persecuted Jesus.86

86 See Radner, End of the Church, 33, “It is just this insistence upon the central mediating figure of

Christ to the relating of the Church and Israel that allows for the ‘whole story of Israel to touch the Church’s life in a salvific fashion, whatever the punishing elements of its specific contours. For if Christ lies as the central referent of both Israel’s life in the Old Testament and the Christian Church’s life, then the drawing of one to the other into a single Israel whose narrative shapes inform each other mutually can be affirmed as manifesting, in whatever mode, the figure of the Gospel itself.” See also pp. 176 and 206.

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Chapter 2

Benjamin Morgan Palmer: The Antebellum Years

2.1 Early Education and Formation

Benjamin Morgan Palmer was born January 25, 1818 in South Carolina.1 As a young man of

14, he traveled north to attend Amherst College in Massachusetts from the fall of 1832 to the

spring of 1834. The Amherst College catalog of 1832 records that freshmen studied Greek,

Latin, algebra, and English grammar.2 Palmer was one of many Southern pastors who had

some training in Northern schools and seminaries. Most of these Southerners felt the

creeping influence of European theology, which contributed to a sense of alienation in the

North.3 Palmer felt out of place at Amherst. Reflecting on this formational period of his life

Palmer later wrote,

A small group of Southern students nestled like birds in a nest, in that far-off New England clime. Five of the number hailed from Virginia, four from Georgia, and one poor lone speckled bird from South Carolina . . . It was an uncanny time for Southern

1 Research on Benjamin Morgan Palmer is largely dependent upon Thomas Cary Johnson’s biography

of Palmer. Johnson is the sole source for Palmer’s early life and education. The secondary literature on Palmer’s life (see footnote 7 in chapter one) seems to attempt to condense Johnson’s 675 pages.

2 “Amherst College Catalog 1831/1832,” Amherst College,

https://acdc.amherst.edu/view/asc:580284/asc:580356 (accessed April 13, 2019). 3 James O. Farmer, The Metaphysical Confederacy: James Henley Thornwell and the Synthesis of

Southern Values (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1999), 17. Duncan, “Benjamin Morgan Palmer: Southern Presbyterian Divine,” 20. See also Richard T. Hughes, “A Civic Theology for the South: The Case of Benjamin M. Palmer,” Journal of Church and State 25, no. 3 (1983): 450. Hughes writes: “By 1860, the South could claim only 20 of the nation’s 664 Universalist churches, and only 3 of the nation’s 257 Unitarian societies. Clearly, the white South had created its own civic theology that now embraced the mainstream Southern denominations in a virtual evangelical consensus. Significantly, this development began in the 1830s, precisely when the South was becoming increasingly defensive over slavery.” This is the period of Palmer’s early formation. Yet southern Presbyterians were not ignorant of developments in biblical criticism. In a book review of Joseph Addison Alexander’s two volume work on Isaiah (George Howe, “Alexander’s Isaiah,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 4 [March 1848]: 129–54), all the prominent German biblical critics of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are mentioned (from Michaelis to Gesenius). The reviewer expresses his hope that works like this will arouse “our Presbyterian ministry to a more diligent study of the Old Testament, in the original tongue” (Howe, “Alexander’s Isaiah,” 153).

28

men to trim their sails for Northern seas. The Nullification storm had just burst over the country, and was not yet appeased. The abolition fanaticism was rising to the height of its frenzy. The elements of conflict were gathering in the theological world, which a little later resulted in the schism rending the Presbyterian Church asunder. The sky was full of portents, and the air screamed with war cries on every side.4

Amherst College witnessed considerable turmoil during Palmer’s student days. For example,

a group of students formed “The Anti-Slavery and Colonization Society.”5 This appears to

have been one group promoting two separate issues. At the request of Amherst president

Herbert Humphrey, the “Colonization” section of this society disbanded in the summer of

1833. When Humphrey asked in October that the “Anti-Slavery” group likewise be

dissolved, they refused. While Palmer was not likely to have been a member of this group, he

did befriend Henry Ward Beecher, an upperclassman at Amherst and a strong abolitionist.

Over time, the vilification of slavery by Beecher and others, and hence the Southern way of

life, began to irritate Palmer. His biographer, Thomas Cary Johnson, writes, “He heard the

whole South grossly abused on account of her peculiar institution of slavery . . . Young

Palmer soon became marked as a spokesman for the Southern cause.”6

Palmer did not complete his four-year undergraduate degree. In the spring of his sophomore

year (1834) Palmer was expelled over his refusal to divulge information to the faculty

concerning an incident in the Athenian Literary Society, a student group in which he was

involved. The members of this society had sworn to keep all activity within their meetings a

secret. The vow of secrecy was broken when a member of the group informed the

administration that an anonymous paper satirizing the faculty was read among the group.

4 Johnson, Palmer, 48. Note that the Nullification controversy occurred in 1832 with South Carolina as

vanguard for the South. John Calhoun of South Carolina resigned the vice presidency in order to run as a senator in protest of Andrew Jackson’s tariff policies, which were harming Southern industry. This early issue of states’ rights versus Federal law saw South Carolina “nullifying” the Federal tariffs.

5 For more on colonization and its appeal to many in the North compare: George Kateb, Lincoln’s

Political Thought (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2015), 90–91, 136; William Greenough Thayer Shedd, Africa and Colonization. An Address Delivered before the Massachusetts Colonization Society. May 27, 1857 (Andover: Warren F. Draper, 1857). As might be expected, this topic was rarely entertained in the slaveholding South: see Mitchell Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 23; Joseph Moore, “Colonization and the Limits of Antislavery in Upcountry South Carolina,” in Apocalypse and the Millennium in the American Civil War Era, ed. Ben Wright and Zachary W. Dresser (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2013), 90–109.

6 Johnson, Palmer, 49.

29

According to Wayne Eubank, Palmer’s friend Beecher was the student who had informed the

faculty of the paper.7 When Palmer was called before the administration and told to reveal

who wrote the paper, he refused to break his oath. Instead, he stated, “Well, sirs’ . . . I will

take expulsion at your hands rather than trample upon my sense of honor.”8 An admirer of

Palmer wrote, “He was determined to leave the institution and to return to his own people. In

the whole episode he had behaved like a true son of South Carolina.”9 The teenage Palmer

had displayed Southern honor, which was a centerpiece of the Southern mindset.10 Palmer’s

departure from Amherst, claims Eubank, “was an emotional separation . . . 66 years later

when called on to furnish biographical data for the first edition of Who’s Who in America, he

made no reference to having ever attended Amherst.”11

In January 1837 Palmer enrolled in the University of Georgia, where he completed a

program similar to the one offered at Amherst in languages, mathematics, and philosophy. At

the University of Georgia he was known as “always honorable and virtuous.”12 By the end of

his studies he had “chosen to serve Christ.”13 In January 1839 Palmer moved back to his

home state of South Carolina, to enrol in Columbia Seminary. The school was small, with

possibly only 32 students and two professors, George Howe and A. W. Leland. In the words

7 Wayne C. Eubank and Dallas C. Dickey, “Benjamin Morgan Palmer, Southern Divine,” The

Quarterly Journal of Speech 30, no. 4 (1944): 423. 8 A possibly embellished story circulated after Palmer’s death identifying the dishonorable student

who betrayed the oath of secrecy as Henry Ward Beecher. See Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 151. 9 Johnson, The Life and Letters of Benjamin Morgan Palmer, 50. See also Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 82.

Haynes emphasizes the importance of honor in Southern culture. This thinking was pervasive among Southern intellectuals. Their understanding of honor was tied to their reading of Genesis 9. The white race was often understood to be the blessed and honored descendants of Japheth, while African Americans were understood to be the descendants of the cursed sons of Ham. Haynes observes that for many in the South, since Africans were marked as descendants of Ham, they were “utterly devoid of honor and thus fit for slavery.” Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 66. This will be observed in more detail below.

10 See Elizabeth Fox-Genovese and Eugene Genovese, The Mind of the Master Class: History and

Faith in the Southern Slaveholder’s Worldview (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 69 and following. Also Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 65 and following.

11 Eubank and Dickey, “Southern Divine,” 424. 12 Johnson, Palmer, 59. 13 Johnson, Palmer, 59.

30

of Palmer’s biographer, the two professors, “While of Northern birth . . . were in thorough

sympathy with Southern ideals and wedded to the section of their adoption.”14

In the background during Palmer’s early years was the changing religious landscape

throughout the country and in the Presbyterian Church. A Presbyterian schism in 1837

between the Old School and the New School was provoked by new, progressive social views

on revivals, slavery, and ecclesial polity.15 Southern Presbyterians almost uniformly sided

with the traditional Old School branch of Presbyterianism: they thought theology and society

were beginning to erode. Old School Presbyterianism held to a juristic view of the atonement

(traditional Calvinism) and conservative views toward slavery and society. The New School,

predominantly Northern Presbyterians, began to favor a moral or governmental theory of

atonement. Their progressive social views, particularly over slavery and revivals, seemed for

many in the South to display a tendency toward anarchy.16 While doctrinal matters were of

great concern to the Southern Old School ministers, as we will see with both Palmer and

Thornwell, they were more concerned with protecting the institutions which provided social

stability and which were under threat of change. In these institutions Southerners had deep

vested interests.

14 Johnson, Palmer, 64. 15 As early as the 1820s Presbyterians talked about dividing on North/South lines as they became

increasingly aware of a need to protect regional institutions. See Margaret Burr DesChamps, “Union or Division? South Atlantic Presbyterians and Southern Nationalism, 1820–1861,” The Journal of Southern History 20, no. 4 (November 1954): 485. Old School Presbyterians were not interested in discussing slavery, while the New School began to speak out ever more strongly against slavery. See also Adams, “Divided, Nation, Divided Church,” 684, 687; C. C. Goen, Broken Churches, Broken Nation, 69. On the importance of revivals in America see Nathan O. Hatch, The Democratization of American Christianity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989).

16 Thomas E. Jenkins. The Character of God: Recovering the Lost Literary Power of American

Protestantism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997). See also Adams, “Divided Nation, Divided Church,” 687. The Presbyterian church split between adherents of the Old School and the New School, with the Old School’s traditional view of substitutionary atonement remaining secure in the South (Hodge took up the cause in the North). This was an ongoing concern for Southern Presbyterians. See W. L. Scott, “The Nature of the Atonement—Why it is Necessarily Vicarious,” Southern Presbyterian Review 21, no. 3 (1870): 381–88. See also Zachary W. Dresser: “For decades, the scholarly output concerning the cultural changes wrought in the 1860s was quite slim in comparison the amount written about political and military events.” Dresser, “Providence Revised: The Southern Presbyterian Old School in the Civil War and Reconstruction,” in Wright and Dresser, Apocalypse and the Millennium, 129. Note also his comments on the conservative nature of Old School Presbyterians, especially in the South. See also Hughes, “A Civic Theology for the South,” 447–67.

31

The foremost intellectual influence on Palmer was Thornwell, a professor of metaphysics at

the College of South Carolina and an ordained Presbyterian minister who “frequently filled

the pulpit of the First Presbyterian Church of Columbia.”17 Palmer later wrote that “the

impression will never be erased of the first discourse” [of Thornwell’s].18 Palmer’s

biographer, Johnson, wrote, “Thornwell unconsciously became, unawares it may be to

Palmer, his model.”19 Johnson continued, “In addition to the special training which he

received in Columbia Seminary, and the highly stimulating influence derived from Dr.

Thornwell, Mr. Palmer profited by the general culture of the people of the community and

city.”20 Johnson represented Palmer as an ideal Southern man who was never tainted by

Northern thinking, and in fact, consciously kept himself from being tainted. Thus, Southern

culture and James Henley Thornwell were two central influences on the thought of Benjamin

Morgan Palmer.21

From 1843 to 1855 Palmer served as a pastor in Columbia, South Carolina. In 1847, when he

was only 29, he founded the Southern Presbyterian Review (SPR) with his mentor James

Henley Thornwell and former professor George Howe. During the next eight years Palmer

produced dozens of articles. Johnson claims “He contributed, between June 1847 and the end

of his Columbia pastorate, articles enough to make an octavo volume of three hundred

pages.”22 Thornwell and Howe, established figures at the time, must have respected Palmer’s

17 Johnson, Palmer, 65. 18 Johnson, Palmer, 65. 19 Johnson, Palmer, 67. 20 Johnson, Palmer, 68. 21 Johnson’s concern to describe Palmer as a social and theological conservative was common for the

time. When many in the South saw social erosion in the North and wars in Europe, their conservatism became more entrenched. Bozeman writes: “Many Americans, already fearful for the success of their fragile republican experiment, were kept at a pitch of unease by the jolting, ‘infidel’ commotions in revolutionary Europe from 1789 to 1848, and beyond. Theodore Dwight Bozeman, “Inductive and Deductive Politics: Science and Society in Antebellum Presbyterian Thought,” The Journal of American History 64, no. 3 (1977): 705. Bozeman goes on to observe that this was especially true of the South in the 1850s.


32

intellectual abilities since they gave his essay second position in the inaugural volume

(Thornwell’s was first).

In the essays and sermons considered below, we will see Palmer, even as a young man,

aiming to create an intellectual structure that could house a number of ideas vital to him and

the South (especially, Southern identity and slavery). The structuring and ordering of these

ideas was created and justified through a particular reading of Scripture that was governed by

the idea that the ways of Providence were discernable as well as the belief that the history of

humankind had reached its apex in the South.23 Palmer’s writings, when examined

chronologically, reveal clarity and consistency in thought. This clarity ultimately enabled

him to become a prominent spokesman for the Southern way of life. Since he was able to

articulate a rationale for the Southern way of life in a world that repudiated slavery, he

became an increasingly popular figure.24

Although Palmer did not write a formal systematic theology, he did leave an identifiable

vision for the South.25 This chapter will lay out the foundation upon which Palmer built his

vision for the Christian South. We will pay particular attention to his use of Scripture, his

understanding of Providence, and his concept of history. Palmer’s vision will be more clearly

observed in the third chapter, which covers the period between 1860 and 1902. In the third

chapter we will see Palmer deploying Scripture, Providence, and history in defending the

South during the war, and afterwards in forming a unique Southern identity resilient enough

23 See Haynes, “Race, National Destiny, and the Sons of Noah in the Thought of Benjamin M.

Palmer,” 125–43. Haynes observes how dependent the thought of Palmer was upon the Old Testament, in particular his use of Genesis 9–11, and the consistency of his thinking throughout his public life.

24 Haynes, “Race, National Destiny, and the Sons of Noah in the Thought of Benjamin M. Palmer,”

135. Haynes writes: “He was able during the crucial decades following the Civil War to make his denomination a mouthpiece for his own reading of Scripture.” See also Hughes, “A Civic Theology for the South,” 451. Hughes writes: “While there was probably no single preacher who was totally representative of all the various strands of the white Southern civic theology during the war years, Palmer came as close as any.” See also Timothy L. Wesley, The Politics of Faith during the Civil War (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University, 2013), 8–31, for a good overview of social factors that preceded the Civil War and how ministers were involved.

25 His vision was for the wider South and not just for the Southern Presbyterian Church. We can note

how Johnson describes the influence of Palmer among other Southern denominations and the friendships he had with those pastors (even among the Jews in New Orleans). Johnson, Palmer, 170 ff.

33

to withstand its reabsorption into the United States. We will see that once Palmer identified

his theology, he never varied from it.

2.1.1 Palmer and Providence

Palmer wrote “The Relation Between the Work of Christ and the Condition of the Angelic

World,” in 1847.26 This early article by Palmer in the newly founded Southern Presbyterian

Review focused on the work of Christ as it applied to the angelic host. The essay displayed

the emergence of Palmer’s tendency to struggle when applying the work of Christ to

practical matters.27 This may not seem to be a notable issue; however, Palmer’s inability to

fruitfully apply the work of Christ to the social realm resulted in enormously negative

consequences. While Palmer at times thoroughly engaged cultural issues, he did this most

often through a reading of the Old Testament which excluded interaction with the person and

work of Christ. This essay is one of Palmer’s most theologically probing on the work of

Christ, yet it reveals him struggling to understand how that work might apply to angels.

Palmer’s 30-page article is quite dense. Halfway through Palmer admitted to the essay’s

obscurity and apparent lack of purpose, stating, “We have thus led the reader through what

he may consider a tangled forest of abstractions, in the search after golden fruit . . . it brings

up to view the great and radical difference between law and grace.”28 In response to the

reader who may have been asking, “Who cares how the work of Christ is applied to angels?”

Palmer argued that the grace of Christ must extend to the angelic world, as this omission

“would destroy the integrity, mar the beauty, and dash the glory of the mystical body of

26 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ and the Condition of the

Angelic World,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 1 (June 1847): 52.

27 This was the second article for the journal. The first was Thornwell’s, “The Office of Reason in Regard to Revelation,” examined below.

28 Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ,” 52.

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Christ.”29 He did not suggest that Christ died for the angelic host but rather that Christ’s

dominion of grace somehow enfolded them, thus ensuring that the power of grace was not

diminished.

The second half of the article focused more specifically on the relation of law and grace.

Palmer wrote, “All that law does, and, from its very nature, all it can do, is simply to point

out the course of duty.”30 This is uncontentious enough. But when he paused to again

consider the reason for his curiosity, he realized that he needed to explain his reasoning as to

why he felt that an essay on the ways of God with angels that was not founded on scriptural

evidence was an important topic for conversation. He justified his probing into the mind of

God by suggesting that the operating principle of God is reason. He wrote, “He [God] cannot

act without reason, that is, he is not arbitrary: he may act without disclosing his reasons, that

is, he is sovereign and free. In a given case we are at liberty to inquire, not only into the

determinations of his will, but if he has been pleased to reveal them, into the grounds of that

will.”31 The significance of this should not be underestimated. It was the seed of his view of

divine Providence, a Providence he believed was inherently perspicuous. When Palmer

identified the inner thought of God as “reason,” this allowed him to maintain that God’s

work might be hard to understand, but not impossible. Indeed, if God operates with reason,

and humanity likewise operates with reason, then human beings are free to extrapolate

theological principles that may or may not be based on Scripture—like how grace applies to

angels. Palmer believed that if human beings properly utilized their intellectual tools they

would be at “liberty to inquire” into the divine mind.32 Yet, how disagreements could be

arbitrated in cases where others discerned different principles was not clear. This view of the

mind of God would later directly affect Palmer’s view of those who disagreed with him, as

29 Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ,” 42. Palmer goes on: “The Mediator would not

be perfect, because of the lost member—the mystical Christ would sit upon his throne a deformed and mutilated object, to praise whom would be the bitterest irony, to worship whom would be most insulting mockery.” Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ,” 42–43.

30 Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ,” 43. 31 Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ,” 46. 32 Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ,” 46.

35

he believed (with a circular logic) that if others discovered different principles they were not

being guided by proper divine reason.33

Toward the end of the essay Palmer suggested that the death of Christ was not necessary to

confirm the angelic host in grace. Likewise, if humanity had not sinned, the death of Christ

would not have been necessary. He argued that “the whole atonement of Christ is the fruit,

not the original, of God’s infinite grace.”34 Thus, grace was not inseparably bound to the

scripturally articulated person of Christ. One would assume that Palmer viewed Christ as the

source of grace. However, what he displays here is the view that this grace was not

necessarily tied to the form of Christ as seen in the Scriptures. Palmer explained that the

work of God could have unfolded in any number of ways: “For aught we can tell, God might

have framed any number of systems.”35 He concluded by suggesting that if man had not

sinned, then God would have almost certainly decreed some other form of grace which did

not involve the work of Christ. He found such a speculation “altogether probable.”36

As will be seen below, this was the beginning of Palmer’s framework for interpreting the Old

Testament. In his approach to Scripture, Providence, and history Palmer was looking to apply

divine principles that he had discovered by reason, rather than ways to apply the work of

Christ.37 He created a division between the possible work of God and the revealed work of

God. As we will see, Palmer never felt compelled to think that merely because God revealed

something in Scripture (e.g., the work of his Son), that this was necessarily an orienting form

which needed to guide one’s thinking. Thus, he allowed the Old Testament to function

33 This thinking would also strongly affect his view of history and race. What was most important

about God were the divine principles and their application, not his personhood or the bodily incarnation of his Son. This may be linked to the justification white Southerners felt in providing slaves with right doctrine, and hence the liberation of their souls, but not providing freedom and liberation for their bodies.

34 Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ,” 62. 35 Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ,” 63. 36 Palmer, “The Relation Between the Work of Christ,” 61–63. 37 Palmer never articulated a clear trinitarian theology nor practical implications of the Trinity. In fact,

as we will see below, when he described the essentials of Christianity, his philosophical tools (emphasizing reason above all else) do not allow him to speak clearly of the Trinity.

36

wholly without a Christological orientation.38 The Old Testament became, instead, a book

from which Palmer could extract principles.39 Likewise, ethics became, for him, a matter to

be explicated by “reason” rather than by the scriptural details of Christ’s own body.40 While

Palmer believed that “grace” may be given to someone, that grace did not need to affect the

way that person’s body was treated.41

Two years after he published his work on the relation of the work of Christ to the condition

of angels Palmer wrote another essay, “A Plea for Doctrine as the Instrument of

Sanctification,” for the SPR. Palmer’s stated goal was to correct “the mistaken impression

that doctrine is not necessary to sanctification . . . the conclusion is drawn that one type of

piety is as good as another.” He went on, “No degree of sanctification is attained, whether

higher or lower, but through the influence of gospel truth upon the mind.”42 While the

argument fell within traditional Christian claims that one needs a purified reason in order to

live a holy life, we note again Palmer’s emphasis on reason as the instrument of

sanctification itself: the power of “truth upon the mind.”43

Palmer wrote, “In no case has it been possible for the Christian to ascend from the lower to

the higher forms, except as the doctrines of the word of God have been brought to bear upon

38 See Haynes, “Race, National Destiny, and the Sons of Noah in the Thought of Benjamin M.

Palmer,” 125–43. Haynes observes the use of Old Testament Scripture throughout Palmer’s life yet discerns that reason and Schlegel were more influential in his interpretive practices than his understanding of what Christ might have to do with the Old Testament.

39 It was common for scholars to see messianic prophecies in the Old Testament. However, this did not

seem to ever be an interest for Palmer. Our observations are not meant to suggest that he viewed the Old Testament as saying nothing at all about Christ, or that he would disagree with those who saw prophecies of Christ in the Old Testament. We are suggesting that this was not a concern of Palmer’s when he approached the Old Testament, and that this oversight had profound consequences.

40 We will aim to confirm this further in chapter three, where we examine a more combative Palmer,

and especially in chapter five, where we will see an African American view of the gospel that involves the body in singing, preaching, and reacting to enemies.

41 Others held similar views. See John Leighton Wilson, “The Moral Condition of Western Africa,”

Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 4 (March 1847): 79–96. 42 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, “A Plea for Doctrine as the Instrument of Sanctification.” Southern

Presbyterian Review 3, no. 1 (July 1849): 36, 37. 43 Palmer, “A Plea for Doctrine,” 40.

37

his mind and conscience.”44 He then showed that the application of proper doctrine was what

accomplished movement from one stage to the next. He highly emphasized the value of

doctrine when he said, “We are not content with saying doctrinal instruction is useful . . .

Much beyond this do we pitch our conclusion: it is, that in every case truth is necessary to

godliness . . . The Holy Spirit is indeed the only sanctifier . . . yet truth is the instrument with

which he effects every transformation.”45 It appeared, for Palmer, that the primary role of the

Holy Spirit was to infuse correct doctrine into the mind, resulting in a way of thinking that

mirrors divine thought.46

When Palmer spoke of doctrine, he meant propositional statements describing divine laws

which were similar to verifiable and reasonable natural laws.47 A Christian would do better

to “digest his Shorter Catechism . . . than if he had . . . read the memoirs of all the saints and

martyrs from Abel until now.”48 For Palmer, an ethic beginning from the body was not

nearly as valuable as properly formed intellectual statements. Palmer seemed not to notice

that the majority of the Scriptures are not composed of propositional statements but of

“memoirs” of saints and martyrs. If Palmer’s analysis seems unduly weighted away from

44 Palmer, “A Plea for Doctrine,” 40–43. 45 Palmer, “A Plea for Doctrine,” 49, 50. 46 This emphasis on doctrine was similar to what was occurring elsewhere in the early-modern era. 47 We will see this more clearly in Palmer’s article “Baconianism and the Bible.” This concern for

propositional truth can also be seen in another early article in the Southern Presbyterian Review. In W. F. Hutson’s review of Benjamin Disraeli’s Tancred, or the New Crusade, the author wrote: “Nearly all essential truth is directly revealed, and does not find its roots in right reason, or any other fallacious technicality of perverted metaphysics, but in the positive will of God . . . Our Savior found the empire under a galling despotism, yet he neither advocated resistance nor forbid change; slavery was then a heavy yoke,—yet he neither authorizes those insane ravings of the Abolitionists, nor hinders that amelioration which the institution has undergone in our day . . . Novel writing . . . is not merely a waste of precious hours, but the corrupter of morals and the advocate of infidelity and rationalism . . . we are often absorbed in its personifications.” W. F. Hutson, “Fictitious Literature: Tancred, or the New Crusade,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 2 (September 1847): 58–60. There was evidently fear that a reader might empathize with fictitious characters and so harm Southern institutions. The author was clear that a proper grasp of propositional truth safeguards both the Bible and slavery. Yet we observe here the complicated nature of the South’s terminology. Although Hutson said, “Essential truth . . . does not find its roots in right reason,” this was not in tension with Palmer’s use of reason to apprehend divine truth. By “right reason” Hutson was referring to the humanistic (and supposedly atheistic) reason of abolitionists and progressives.

48 Palmer, “A Plea for Doctrine,” 51.

38

love and service in favor of intellectual assent, he would agree; he said it himself: “He [a

preacher] may inculcate most amply all the duties and charities of life, yet only as the

corollaries of Christian doctrine; otherwise he degrades the Gospel into a system of mere

morals.”49 Doctrine was primary.50

Palmer’s argument moved on to consider how right doctrine was necessary for salvation. He

concluded by stringing together three prophetic texts from Isaiah (60:1, 52:7, and 62:1):

“Thus skillful in the word of knowledge, then shall ‘Zion arise and shine – beautiful upon her

mountains will be the feet of them who bring good tidings, who publish peace – then shall

her righteousness go forth as brightness, and her salvation as a lamp that burneth.’”51 In the

two framing passages (Isaiah 60:1 and 62:1), the work of the Lord effected salvation for his

people. However, by inserting Isaiah 52:7 (bringing good tidings and publishing peace), the

nature of salvation was subtly redefined as the saving work of propositional doctrine. His

reinterpretation of “tidings” and “publishing” as right doctrine displays the importance of

doctrine for Palmer and indicates his peculiar use of Scripture and understanding of how it

operated.

The Old Testament presented Palmer with a large body of data that needed to be transformed

into useful principles for the church. Through the employment of correct reasoning its

“memoirs” could be transformed into useful principles. This also reveals Palmer’s

understanding of the Spirit’s saving work. The Spirit does not disclose the Son, or at least

this is not his primary role; the Spirit discloses doctrine, which is the “instrument of

sanctification.” In addition, the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s Supper play no

decisive part in sanctification, nor fellowship within the church (all of which are communal,


50 We might observe that much of what Palmer has to say about reason and doctrine is similar to how

past theologians spoke. Thomas Aquinas, for instance, said that God could have forgiven humanity without the work of Christ if he chose. However, unlike thinkers before him who often emphasized apophaticism, Palmer lacked a sense of mystery in regard to the mind of God. Also, he lacked a strong sacramental system, which seems to have kept scholastic theology oriented around the person of Christ; not moving off into speculation entirely separated from Christ. Yet, it is the case that, in some respects, Palmer is not outside traditional theological conversation.


39

bodily, practices). We are not suggesting that Palmer denied the importance of these

practices. Rather, we are observing their absence in his discussions.52

2.1.2 Palmer and Scripture

In 1852 Palmer was pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Columbia. He continued

steadily to write and provide articles for the SPR. He was also teaching church history at

Columbia Seminary, and worked to secure an endowment to bring his friend and former

teacher James Henley Thornwell onto the faculty. Palmer’s reputation as a theological

thinker was growing, and in 1852 he was conferred a degree of Doctor of Divinity by

Oglethorpe University.53 In 1854 Palmer was made Professor of Ecclesiastical History and

Polity at Columbia Seminary. This appointment caused him to step away from his

responsibilities at the church; however, this would be short-lived.54 He missed pastoral

ministry and regular preaching, and so in 1856 accepted an appointment at the First

Presbyterian Church in New Orleans.

52 See Hatch, The Democratization of American Christianity, 6. Although Hatch’s book focuses more

on itinerant Methodist and unschooled Baptists, his broad observations apply to the more sophisticated Presbyterians. “The Revolution dramatically expanded the circle of people who considered themselves capable of thinking for themselves about issues of freedom, equality, sovereignty, and representation. Respect for authority, tradition, station, and education eroded.” The more educated clergymen preferred to distance themselves from the unschooled preachers. See the strong reactions to comments from Beecher that “illiterate men have never been the chosen instruments of God to build up his cause,” concerning Methodist preachers Hibbard, Dow, and Garrettson (Hatch, The Democratization of American Christianity, 19–20). While Old School Presbyterians liked to believe that they were not responsible for any such erosion, especially since they aimed to preserve traditional institutions, they were caught up in the same individualizing effects of America as the Methodists and Baptists.

53 Johnson, Palmer, 150. 54 Palmer always felt called to the pulpit. When he reluctantly accepted the position as a professor, his

wife was believed to have said, “You will soon lose both pastor and professor. Your new made professor must be a pastor; you have, in taking him out of this church, made it inevitable that he shall soon accept a call to another church.” Johnson, Palmer, 138, 149.

40

Palmer expanded an address he had given at Davidson College in 1852 and published it in an

SPR article titled, “Baconianism and the Bible.”55 Palmer’s purpose was to put an end to

what he called the “senseless clamour . . . that scripture is a foe to science.”56 Although

Palmer knew of some of the developments in European biblical scholarship, his concern was

not the changing landscape of biblical interpretation per se, but rather the cultural changes

brought on by the Industrial Revolution and the rise of philosophical skepticism.57 He aimed

to show that the ancient faith and its book were still relevant in the face of scientific

advancements. Instead of seeing science as dethroning the Protestant world, Palmer argued

that Protestantism had given rise to all the current scientific advances.58 Palmer wrote, “The

55 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” Southern Presbyterian Review 6, no. 2

(October 1852): 226–54. The address was given at Davidson College, Davidson, NC, on August 11, 1852. The Southern Presbyterian Review and other Presbyterian journals were responsible for exposing the public to significant scientific and philosophical ideas. See also Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 42; Hughes, “A Civic Theology for the South,” 447, 449.

56 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 228. Palmer ascribed a value to Francis Bacon equal to that of

Martin Luther. The reason for this was to establish a stable metaphysic for Southern society against a great many chaotic forces. These forces will be talked about at greater length in chapter three and chapter four’s discussion of James Henley Thornwell. Compare the comments by Bozeman (“Inductive and Deductive Politics,” 710), who suggested that the “growing pressure of sectional controversy” gave rise to inductive politics. See Elizabeth Fox-Genovese and Eugene D. Genovese, “The Divine Sanction of the Social Order: Religious Foundations of the Southern Slaveholders’ World View,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 55, no. 2 (Summer 1987): 215. Also note the importance of Bacon for Old School Presbyterians. For the importance of Bacon to Charles Hodge, see James C. Livingston, “Natural Science and Theology,” in The Blackwell Companion to Nineteenth Century Theology, ed. David Fergusson (Malden: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), 153, 154. See also similar uses of induction as applied to science and the natural world occurring in the North in Louis Menand, The Metaphysical Club: A Story of Ideas in America (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2001), 97–116.

57 The British empirical philosophers undermined confidence in the external world mediated to us by

the senses, resulting in skepticism (e.g., Hume); one of the reactions against this was Scottish Realist thought. Scottish Realism or Common Sense philosophy became highly influential in American intellectual life, and argued that the world was still knowable and reliable, for our senses are adequate to interpret the information they receive. While some in America reacted to skepticism along the lines of what came to be known as the Romantic Movement (i.e., Transcendentalists, Revivalists, and even Presbyterian New Schoolers), the South viewed both skepticism and the freedom of the Romantic Movement as a usurpation of authority. Thus, they welcomed Scottish Realism, while also seeking to weld to it the empirical tools of Francis Bacon, thereby cementing their hold on a rational Newtonian universe governed by God from the top down. Even if causation could not be adequately explained or measured, the governance of Providence was enough to provide stability to the universe. See Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 3–43. See also J. H. Thornwell, “The Office of Reason in Regard to Revelation,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 1 (June 1847): 1–34.

58 The Southern Presbyterian Review continued to promote this idea. See S. J. Cassells, “The Relation

of Justice to Benevolence in Conduct of Society,” Southern Presbyterian Review 7, no. 1 (July 1853): 85–102.

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only philosophy which has given to the world a true physical and intellectual science, is itself

the product of Protestant Christianity.”59 Palmer argued that Protestantism gave the world

Francis Bacon, and Bacon had given science the inductive method, upon which all

technological advances are dependent.60

Palmer here provided his most explicit articulation of Baconian-based hermeneutics.61

According to Palmer, the Baconian method allowed both science and the church to move

away from the allegorical and metaphysical views of nature prevalent in the medieval

church. The Baconian method allowed one to strip these false filters away and to view nature

and Scripture as they appear a priori.62 Thus, a literal, non-figural reading of Scripture not

only led to correct doctrine, but allowed for the demystifying of nature and the proper

articulation of natural laws. The field of science ought also to recognize that the origin of its

success was religious: rooted in the Protestant Reformation’s liberation of the individual

from constricting authority. New scientific achievements did not undermine religion but

rather confirmed that Protestantism was the unshakable foundation upon which all truth was

built.63

See also Richard S. Gladney, “Natural Science and Revealed Religion,” Southern Presbyterian Review 12, no. 3 (October 1859): 443–67.

59 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 230, italics original. 60 It was likely that Palmer read Samuel Tyler’s A Discourse of the Baconian Philosophy of 1844.

Tyler was one of the foremost philosophers in America and “served virtually as a house philosopher for the Old School Presbyterian church” (Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 65).

61 This was the method of nearly all Protestants in America. The thought was that the human mind was

capable of understanding Scripture on its own and straightforward reading would produce the right interpretive results, if entered into with prayer and humility. It became easy to vilify those who came to different conclusions in their readings, since the fault must lie in their piety, not with the hermeneutic or the power of reason. Despite all the various facts in Scripture and all the various types of readers, those who espoused this method were unwittingly demanding a uniformity of reading that could not be sustained. See Hatch, The Democratization of American Christianity; Perry Miller, The Life of the Mind in America: From the Revolution to the Civil War (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1965).

62 See Goen, “Broken Churches, Broken Nation,” 27: “Religious authority was still the Bible . . .

though unlike the Reformers they interpreted it less according to the norms of classical Christianity than through the presumed competence of private reason and individual experience.”

63 Bozeman writes: “The implication was clear: society too was a fact, or a system of moral facts, fully

meriting the high prestige accorded empirical data by science of the day.” Bozeman, “Inductive and Deductive Politics,” 716.

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Palmer argued that the Reformers encouraged individuals to read Scripture for themselves,

and their freedom from the authority of Rome set a precedent which eventually led to the

scientific revolution.64 He said that the collection of facts was the first step. The “dignity of

science” was not reached until laws were eventually known through observation of facts.

According to Palmer, since the medieval church began with platonic metaphysical

assumptions, nature’s fundamental laws always eluded them, and this was why they never

made technological progress. Palmer said,

The great vice of their physical science was the unchastened use of the speculative faculty. . . . they indulged the presumptuous hope of penetrating, by one transcendental effort of thought, into the essence of matter. . . . The adoption of the a priori method of investigation was thus necessitated, which shortly interposed a barrier against all progress in knowledge.65

Palmer quoted Anglican priest and polymath William Whewell’s 1837 History of the

Inductive Sciences, Volume 1: “[Medieval thinkers] did not collect clear fundamental ideas

from the world of things by inductive acts of thought, but only derived results by deduction

from one or other of their familiar conceptions.”66 The method pursued by the pre-

Reformation world thus was the reverse of the inductive method taught by Bacon.67 Palmer

wrote, “What must we expect from the middle ages, when philosophy in her dotage drivels in

all the absurdities of the schoolmen? . . . Science had become a mixture of art and mysticism

and clowns travestied what once philosophers discoursed. Uncouth caricatures took the place

of nature.”68 Baconianism allowed one to view the objective world accurately; any other

perspective resulted in a veneer of “uncouth caricatures.”

64 Bozeman writes: “They [Old School Presbyterians] did not hesitate to identify progress as a basic

prerogative of Protestant mankind . . . and even to suggest that the great wave of modern advance in all fields originated in the Reformation.” Bozeman, “Inductive and Deductive Politics,” 710–11.

65 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 236. 66 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 236. 67 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 238. 68 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 239.

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While it is unclear what Palmer had read among the voluminous works of medieval

theologians, he felt comfortable enough to name, ridicule, and dismiss some of them.69 He

wrote, “Such was the scholastic philosophy of the middle ages, when ‘angelic doctors’ kept

up for generations the game of battledoor;70 and Thomists and Scotists watched the long

night through with quirks and riddles equal to those of the Egyptian sphinx.”71 In short,

Palmer was rejecting the worldview and interpretive practices used by the church in ages

past, where interpretation began with a metaphysical truth (often provided by a hierarchy)

from which one could draw application. As evidence that his method was superior and the

medieval method was faulty, Palmer pointed to modern scientific advancements (for example

steam engines, lamps, cotton gins) which would not have been possible if the individual’s

powers of reason had remained chained to the metaphysical authority of Rome.72 Until

Bacon articulated the inductive method, “for two thousand years, the great problems of

physical and mental science went unresolved.”73 Palmer placed Bacon alongside the most

notable scientists and theologians who had overset the received teaching of Rome (such as

Wycliffe, Luther, Copernicus, Galileo, and others).

Thus, Palmer correlated lack of progress in science with a failure to progress in the correct

reading of Scripture. In his view, Baconianism was able to emerge because the Bible had

first been set free from Roman Catholicism. Moreover, the Bible has Baconianism implied

within it, since “the Bible, throughout all history, has been the precursor of genuine

69 Medieval metaphysics had long fallen out of fashion, especially among Old School Presbyterians.

See Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 61. See also Fox-Genovese and Genovese, The Mind of the Master Class, 306. The writers observe that while medieval metaphysics were avoided, there was a medieval sense of honor and chivalry which endured in the South.

70 Battledoor was a diversion similar to modern-day badminton. 71 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 239–40. 72 Bozeman writes: “The very terms ‘abstract,’ ‘theory,’ and ‘metaphysics’ were reduced within the

Old School to the status of virtual obscenities.” Bozeman, “Inductive and Deductive Politics,” 718, 73 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 241. Bozeman explained: “Philosophically grounded in the

Lockean account of knowledge, as modified and reinforced by the empiricist school of Scottish Realism—itself heavily influenced by science—the popular inductive epistemology of the day disparaged theory and stressed the restraining role of hard facts in the formulation of concepts in any field.” Bozeman, “Inductive and Deductive Politics,” 714,

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philosophy.”74 Therefore both “Baconian philosophy and Christianity . . . [were] agencies

intended by God for the elevation of mankind.”75 The significance of this statement should

not be overlooked.

For Palmer, the theologian’s job was to articulate the laws and principles of Scripture

inferred from an observation of the bare facts of the text, just as the scientist must articulate

law from the brute facts of nature. He wrote, “The theologian collates his passages as the

philosopher collects his facts, and by analogy constructs his divinity as the latter builds up

his science.”76 Palmer went on to say, “Theology, no less than philosophy, rejects the

doctrine of innate ideas. . . . Credulity believes without evidence; faith receives only upon

evidence.”77 For Palmer, faith is built on rational evidence, which can be gathered with

confidence since the Scriptures are clear to the faithful reader. This conflation of modern

scientific technique and orthodox Christianity eventually led him to employ a type of

scientific-figural interpretation to the biblical text. It was neither an incipient historical

criticism nor traditional figuralism. It was something else: an attempt to read the Scriptures

like a scientist reads nature while still constrained to apply them in some sort of figural

manner, all the while disavowing figuralism.78 This is most clearly seen when Palmer

74 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 242. 75 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 243. 76 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 243. 77 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 244. See also Bozeman, “Inductive and Deductive Politics,”

715. “Moral structures and events, like the planets in their orbits, were natural phenomena regulated by general laws.”

78 Palmer, although aware of other intellectual trends that could be offered as opposing viewpoints,

was confident in Bacon. He wrote, “There is little danger, perhaps, that many will be captivated by the vulgar infidelity of Paine, or by the cold skepticism of Hume, or by the ribald scoffing and profane wit of the French Encyclopedists.” Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 250. Fox-Genovese and Genovese observe how Southern preachers leaned heavily on social order, Providence, and Baconianism to defend their society from attack. They note that Thornwell was the greatest Southern intellectual to attempt this defense. They write, “In 1850 he [Thornwell] denounced the European revolutions of 1848–1849 and ‘the mad speculations of philosophers, the excesses of unchecked democracy,’ and ‘the despotism of the masses’ . . . The South, then, stood as God’s bastion against all the isms that were threatening Christian civilization.” Fox-Genovese and Genovese, “The Divine Sanction of Social Order,” 218.

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interprets Genesis 9 and the curse of Ham. He attempted to make scientific claims about the

text to prove racial slavery, but in reality, he made sweeping, unfounded figural claims.

Not surprisingly, Palmer’s hermeneutical approach caused problems. When he had a chance

to articulate the deepest truths of Christianity, his method (which paid little attention to

central theological truths of the Christian tradition) forced him to choose things that were not

distinctively Christian. Instead of the Trinity, dual nature of the Son, virgin birth, or the

divinity of the Spirit, he mentioned “providential care . . . law and accountability, of sin and

redemption, of atonement and pardon, of holiness and bliss.”79 He did not seem to think that

the leap from the bare facts of Scripture to distinctively Christian beliefs (like the Trinity)

might be excessively difficult to prove apart from a confessional framework.80

Palmer shared this confidence in the supposed clarity of Scripture and the power of reason

with many Old School Presbyterian theologians.81 With the Bible in one hand and Bacon in

the other, Palmer believed the church was prepared to face the new scientific age. He wrote,

“This discourse gives, in two words—Baconianism and the Bible—a portable argument

79 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 246. 80 Palmer seemed to be aware of other problems that Christianity was encountering in the new

scientific age such as the age of the earth and possibly, theories of evolution. See Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 251; Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 54. But the combination of the Bible and Natural Law was too enticing to pass up. Snay writes that southern clergymen drew on the Bible and natural law “to demonstrate the rectitude of slavery and the infidelity of abolitionism.” See also Goen, “Broken Churches, Broken Nation,” 31.

81 Problems associated with the claim that Scripture is perspicuous and self-interpreting can be seen in

other places. Northern Old School theologian Robert Dabney wrote, “I fearlessly assert that no erroneous belief on any important question can arise in a sane mind.” Quoted in Dresser, “Providence Revised,” 143. See also Robert Lewis Dabney, “The Bible Its Own Witness,” (Richmond, VA: Shepperson & Graves, 1871). http://www.newhopefairfax.org/files/Dabney%20Bible%20Its%20Own%20Witness.pdf. (accessed May 3, 2019). Dabney preached this sermon in 1867. Similar thoughts were voiced by Thornwell in a report for the synod of South Carolina, when he said that “the Church is not at liberty to speculate . . . her only argument is Thus it is written” [James Henley Thornwell, “The Church and Slavery,” in The Collected Writings of James Henley Thornwell: Volume 4, Ecclesiastical, ed. John B. Adger and John L. Girardeau (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1873), 384]. See also Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 65. Note also Anonymous, “The Platonic Trinity,” Southern Presbyterian Review 2, no. 2 (September 1848): 221. In this article early Christian philosophical and metaphysical tools are rejected, yet it was claimed that the Trinity can be clearly proven from the writings of the Old and New Testaments, while the author was well aware that the Socinians have come to the exact opposite conclusions. See also Schipper, “On Such Texts Comment is Unnecessary,” 1034. Schipper quotes Magistrate Lionel Kennedy at the Denmark Vesey trial. Kennedy considered Vesey’s biblical interpretation patently false and his own to be the very opposite. Kennedy said concerning his own interpretation, “On such texts comment is unnecessary.”

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paralyzing the skeptic with the shock of the torpedo.”82 Baconianism gave Palmer

unshakable confidence in the power of reason.83 He would use this confidence to argue that

both Scripture and Providence clearly allowed for racial slavery.84 With this essay, Palmer

has another of his theological pieces in place. In Palmer’s essay on angelic grace, he

displayed his view on the workings of Providence and the mind of God. In this essay on

Baconianism, Palmer put into place another piece of his theology in evincing his method of

interpreting Scripture: the Bible ought to be interpreted as a scientist approaches nature. Just

as a scientist observes data to articulate natural laws, so a faithful reader can observe the

clear data of Scripture to articulate universal divine principles. Such a method assumes that

82 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 253. The essay concluded with ecstatic praise for science:

“She [Science] will appear, like an ancient priestess, in the sacred temple of religion; and burn the frankincense of all her discoveries upon the altar of inspired truth. She will assemble the elements and powers of Nature in one mighty orchestra, and revelation shall give the key-note of praise, while heaven and earth join in the rehearsal of the grand oratorio.”

83 Jeremy Schipper, “‘On Such Texts Comment is Unnecessary:’ Biblical Interpretation in the Trial of

Denmark Vesey,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 85, no. 5 (December 2017): 1040–41. Schipper observes that typological reading “was commonplace in uses of biblical texts in pro-slavery arguments in the antebellum era.” What Schipper calls “typological” is nearly the same as what we are referring to as “figural” reading. We would want to make the category a bit broader and more obscure. “Figural” involves many things, including typology and allegory. But it also allows us to include the attempt at a “scientific” reading that Palmer was aiming for, as he wanted to carry the text from the past into the present. That is, as we will see, although Palmer would reject classical typological reading, claiming that his reading was “scientific,” he demonstrated thoroughly typological and allegorical readings, blended with his conception of verifiable scientific claims on race. Thus, we are choosing the broader term “figural,” since it is difficult to specifically term what it was that Palme was doing. The result was a mixture of many ill-defined readings (although he thought otherwise). Schipper goes on to describe the “typological” readings of both Denmark Vesey and the presiding magistrate of the court, Lionel Henry Kennedy, who was trying Vesey. Schipper observes that, “the issue is how and when one ought to read biblical text typologically, not whether one ought to read them typologically” (“On Such Texts,” 1041).

84 Snay records one Presbyterian, William A. Smith, as saying, “Without slavery there could be no

government.” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 71. Labor issues will be discussed at greater length below. In Palmer’s Thanksgiving Sermon of 1860 he said that man ought not to try and twist the arm of Providence (Benjamin Morgan Palmer, The South: Her Duty and Her Peril. A Discourse, Delivered in the First Presbyterian Church, New Orleans, on Thursday, November 29th, 1860 (New Orleans: True Witness and Sentinel, 1860). See also Bozeman, “Inductive and Deductive Politics,” 711. “Presbyterians were convinced, God already was remedially at work in the system of things as constituted.” Bozeman further observes how, by the late 1850’s, conservative Presbyterians stood against social disorder, progressive reform, and providential progress. Bozeman does not discuss the inconsistency in Old School thought over the concern to halt progress and reform (e.g., over slavery) and yet how progress is a celebrated aspect of Protestantism ever since the Reformation apparently initiated a train of necessary reforms (e.g., against Rome and ancient conceptions of nature). Nor did any Old School thinker have a ready argument as to how it came to be that the South was the true heir of the appropriate divine reform, and so could decide when reform had gone too far. Bozeman, “Inductive and Deductive Politics,” 719.

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the Bible is of the same nature as the created world. Likewise, just as scientists aim to

observe the physical world apart from religious presuppositions in order to state natural laws,

so Palmer intentionally attempted to do away with a metaphysical lens for reading. However,

reading the Bible is unlike reading nature, it is impossible without some sort of figural

interpretation. Palmer’s next essay presented the final piece of his theology: his

understanding of the purpose of history.85

2.1.3 Palmer and History

Palmer’s relocation to New Orleans in 1856 to become pastor of the First Presbyterian

Church would be the most significant move of his long life. According to Johnson,

The Presbyterians of New Orleans and the Southwest, in getting Dr. Palmer, got one of the first minds, and perhaps the first orator, of his day, in the great communion to which he belonged. . . . They were all in the nascent state and needed such a man in New Orleans to help mould their coming civilizations for the right and for God . . . when he went to them, he simply went into that greater South Carolina.86

85 Not long after the article “Baconianism and the Bible,” Palmer published another: Benjamin Morgan

Palmer, “Mormonism,” Southern Presbyterian Review 6, no. 4 (April 1853): 559–89. The first criticism he leveled against Mormonism was that since Americans live in “an age advanced beyond all others in the natural sciences . . . it strikes one with astonishment that in the middle of the nineteenth century, and in this enlightened, Christian land, so clumsy an imposture should be attempted and succeed. That an obscure and illiterate man . . . should make the stupendous claim of inspiration from God.” (Palmer, “Mormonism,” 560). Palmer went on to list the primitive and superstitious ways that a young Joseph Smith earned a living: “by the aid of seer-stones and hazel-rods: and other deceptions (562). Palmer stated that Mormonism was a step back from enlightened civilization, behind even Mohammedism (575), but observed that Smith slyly tapped into the current of the age, for, while it was a backward primitivism, it presumed to advancement by claiming new revelation (583). He lumped Smith together with other non-scientific and speculative movements: “This untaught school of fanatics in the wilds and fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains joining hands with the most unintelligible school of German metaphysicians” (585). Palmer characterized Mormonism as an “effort to corrupt science, and to push their frauds into the kingdom of nature” (587). While concerned about this possible corruption, throughout the essay he did not mention the Mormon refashioning of traditional Christian doctrines such as the Trinity or the divinity of Christ. At the end of the essay, he did not suggest that the surest way to check Mormonism was Christian orthodoxy, but rather, the surest check against it was American progress. He wrote: “Insensibly will she [Mormonism] catch the spirit, and take the forms of truly republican institutions” (589). America would take up and fulfill in itself the hopes of all past civilizations: “It will discover a life which the history of four thousand years denies of every other government—and republicanism will come forth, amidst the acclamations of the world, to receive the chaplet of triumph, which shall forever adorn her brow.” Palmer, “Mormonism,” 559–90.

86 Johnson, Palmer, 171. Observe Johnson’s expectations for Palmer and South Carolina. Johnson

insisted that although Palmer was now in New Orleans, he remained a South Carolinian and a man of Southern

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Johnson took pains to say that Palmer, in going to New Orleans, remained a son of South

Carolina, and suggested that it was by the strength of the sons of South Carolina that the rest

of the South would find its true identity.87 Two years later, in 1858, Palmer was asked to give

a lecture at La Grange Synodical College in Tennessee which he titled “Our Historic

Mission.”88 Prior to this lecture, Palmer had been considering how Scripture and Providence

function; here he formulated how both of these operate in history, articulating the last major

piece to his theology. Once in place, he would not hereafter divert from this theological

matrix.89

Palmer’s address dealt with a topic on the minds of many mid-to-late nineteenth century

thinkers, namely the era’s unparalleled technological progress (as we also saw in his essay on

Baconianism). Some considered these changes to be an indicator of the coming millennial

age, with America at the forefront.90 Palmer was attempting to make sense out of these

honor. He wrote: “In his possession of South Carolina courtesy, the South Carolina sense of honor in its noblest and Christian form, the South Carolina magnification of the rights of the State, and the South Carolina views of slavery, he was peculiarly fitted to accomplish a great work. In Louisiana, with all its peculiarities, he was still within the zone in which South Carolina theories prevailed.” Johnson, Palmer, 172.

87 Johnson, Palmer, 172. 88 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, “Our Historic Mission: An Address Delivered before the Eunomian and

Phi-Mu Societies of La Grange Synodical College. July 7, 1858,” (New Orleans: “True Witness” Office, 1859). This is a theme he continued to explore throughout his life. See also Palmer, “The Tribunal of History,” Southern Presbyterian Review 23, no. 2 (April 1872): 245–62 (which is not discussed in this thesis), and especially Palmer’s writings discussed in chapter three.

89 Cf. Palmer’s thinking in the earlier essay, Benjamin Morgan Palmer, “Import of Hebrew History,”

Southern Presbyterian Review 9, no. 4 (April 1856): 582–610. Also, Haynes writes that Palmer held “Schlegelian concepts of historic and unhistoric nations, the notion that societies are organic entities invested with divine trusts.” Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 126. Palmer rooted a great deal of this in his interpretation of Genesis 9–11. As Haynes explains, “Schlegel’s conviction that only a small minority of the nations appearing in world history are ‘historic’ proved particularly stimulating as Palmer developed a philosophy of history in which American held pride of place, and that rationalized the subjection of black Americans.” Haynes, “Race, National Destiny, and the Sons of Noah in the Thought of Benjamin M. Palmer,” 128. The history of the use of Genesis 9 was set deep within the slaveholder’s mindset. Palmer was drawing on an interpretive tradition that preceded him, yet his dependency on Genesis 9 grew in intensity when the institution of slavery was attacked.

90 This sense of some new event on the horizon displayed itself in various ways. Some in the North

looked for the millennium. The South looked more often to preserve the Eden they already had. See Erskine Clarke, “Southern Nationalism and Columbia Theological Seminary,” American Presbyterians 66, no. 2. (Summer 1988): 125. Yet, cf., Jack Maddex, Jr. “Proslavery Millennialism: Social Eschatology in Antebellum Southern Calvinism,” American Quarterly 13, no. 1 (Spring 1979): 46–62. The Transcendentalists looked for a new humanity, an idea so interesting that Emerson influenced the work of Nietzsche. Fredrick Nietzsche, The

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cultural changes. He suggested that America had a unique place underneath “the frowning

shadow” of providential history.91

Palmer built his argument on Schlegel’s premise that “in the whole circumference of the

globe there are only certain nations that occupy a historical and really important place in the

annals of civilization.” This allowed Palmer to easily manage the vast amount of historical

information collected throughout the ages by compressing world history into the nations that

occupied a “historical and really important place.” He revealed his hierarchy of nations

stating, “With the exception of Egypt and the Mediterranean coast, the whole of Africa may

be disregarded, as contributing nothing to human progress. So with all Polynesia; with the

vast territory of Northern Asia; and with the continent of America, until by a transfer of

languages and institutions it became a ‘second Europe.’”92 Then, using Genesis 9–11 as a

foundation for a racial theory that was confirmed by American progress, he held up the South

and slavery as the culmination of the world’s historical development.93

Palmer believed that the African race was the most historically undeveloped, and that by

contrast, the European race had contributed most significantly in moving humanity forward

in technology and worship. He found evidence for his theory in the primeval history of

Genesis where he looked for the literal genealogical heirs of Shem, Japhet, and Canaan. He

identified Shem’s descendants as the Hebrew race, “providentially selected as the channel for

Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage Books, 1974), 14. Yet, these hopes were not often shared with common people. Cf., Lewis O. Saum, The Popular Mood of Pre-Civil War America (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1980), 27; Saum asserts that for common people, religion did not allow for the variety that the multiplicity of denominations and thinkers might lead one to expect. He writes, “Religion meant man’s better efforts to accommodate to providence. . . . Whatever the importance of Emerson’s views to refined contemporaries, his utterances were as alien to the common people as they were to his renowned adversary, Andrews Norton.”

91 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 3. 92 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 3. 93 Haynes writes: “Palmer’s anti-black ideology resulted from reading selected sections of the biblical

narrative in the light of a particular philosophy of history . . . adopted from the German Romantic thinker Friedrich Schlegel.” Haynes, “Race, National Destiny, and the Sons of Noah in the Thought of Benjamin M. Palmer,” 126. Particularly important for Palmer was an “evolving understanding of Genesis 9–11.” Snay also observes that in the South, “abolitionism was symptomatic of a subversive social philosophy.” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 34.

50

transmitting religion and worship.”94 Palmer then stated that Japhet was the ancestor of white

Europeans who were “designated to be the organ of human civilization, in cultivating the

intellectual powers. . . . the higher powers of the soul in politics, jurisprudence, science, and

art.”95 Palmer classified the accursed race of Ham as the African people: “The descendants of

Ham, on the contrary, in whom the sensual and corporeal appetites predominate, are driven

like an infected race beyond the deserts of Sahara, where under a glowing sky nature

harmonizes with their brutal and savage disposition.”96

Against those who believed that the disparity of the races indicated different origins,97

Palmer, like many Old School Presbyterians, held to one common Adamic root for

humanity.98 However, this perspective grated against his view of history and Providence,

94 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 4. 95 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 5. 96 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 5; Here Palmer condensed a quote approximated from an

unidentified article in Bibliotheca Sacra. 97 See Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 87ff. 98 This was a common Presbyterian assumption. See Benjamin Morgan Palmer, “An Inquiry into the

Doctrine of Imputed Sin,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 4 (March 1848): 97–128; George Howe, “The Unity of the Race,” Southern Presbyterian Review 3, no. 1, (July 1849): 124–66. The aim of the article was similar to others where theology confronts science. The concern was that scientific observation could allow one to believe that there are a variety of different species of man. If so, this was harmful to a theology of salvation and related concepts (sin, redemption, incarnation, etc.). But theology, using Baconian observation, was capable of forming reasonable scientific conclusions. Thus, the article arrived at theological conclusions only by assembling a mass of scientific observations from every corner of the globe. Interestingly, after asserting the unity of the race, the article concluded by quoting Galatians 3:28, noting, “national distinctions disappear” when seen “in the light of revelation and the plan of mercy, in which there is neither Greek, nor Jew, Barbarian nor Scythian, bond nor free.” If an abolitionist had asserted that this was evidence against slavery, the reply would have been that if a soul was freed by Jesus, then that was freedom enough. Yet, even for the forceful Southern apologists, there were biblical texts that inclined toward equality and brotherhood which seemed to resist them (Howe, “Unity of the Race,” 166). In fact, an issue from the next year of the Southern Presbyterian Review sought to clear this matter up (George Howe, “The Mark of Cain and the Curse of Ham,” Southern Presbyterian Review 3, no. 3 [January 1850]: 415–26). The author began: “It has been an object in former pages of this Review, to defend the teachings of the Scriptures, as to the unity of the human race, and to point out those causes which may have operated, in the special Providence of God, to produce the varieties found existing in the family of man.” He then rehearsed the old argument from Genesis 9 on the mark of Cain and the curse of Ham, which dooms the African race to perpetual servitude. The author upended this argument, suggesting that it was unsound (For example: It is unclear what the “mark” was. Also, some descendants of Ham—the Egyptians, for instance—have at times been far more powerful than those of Shem and Japheth.) The author’s point was not to undermine slavery, but to keep the apparently flimsy “mark on Canaan” argument for the defense of slavery from being used by Northerners against the South (although Palmer would not take this

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since the idea of equality and brotherhood with non-white races potentially opened the door

to a social concept that he did not find helpful. In order to hold together the idea of a

common Adamic root with the notion of a divine stratification of nations and races, Palmer

espoused the view that the race of Canaan was cursed and doomed to slavery. This allowed

him to have a family member (“Canaan”) in the same house, and yet place that member in

perpetual submission, essentially treating him as an “other.” While this scriptural argument

was not novel, the manner in which he wove Scripture together with his understanding of

history and Providence was.99 It would eventually allow him to state that the South was the

culmination of the Noahic seed, and the hope for humanity.100

Palmer attempted to base this national vision on a Baconian observation of verifiable facts.

In aiming to discover whether white Americans were a “historic people” Palmer asked,

“What rank shall we hereafter occupy in the great temple of history, when its topstone shall

be laid, and the nations of the earth meet in one mighty orchestra to swell the anthem of

praise to Him who shall then unfold the finished scheme of Providence?”101 He went on to

say that the chief measure of what makes a people “historic” was how they have responded

to political problems. In Palmer’s view, “Never . . . has a nation existed upon the face of the

globe, under conditions so favorable for working out the problems of the historic calculus

and giving its grand equation to the world.”102

advice). Note the importance of Genesis 9 in the larger conversation on slavery. Genesis 9 was so entrenched in the conversation that for good or bad, it had to be dealt with. See also Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 101.

99 However, Palmer’s reading was not universal. Others in the South avoided using a thoroughly racial

argument to justify slavery. See Howe, “The Mark of Cain and the Curse of Ham,” 415–426.

100 See Haynes, Noah’s Curse, for a thorough treatment. Others have noted the connection between Genesis 9–11, the South, and racism. See also Hughes, “A Civic Theology for the South,” 461; Thomas Virgil Peterson, Ham and Japheth: The Mythic World of Whites in the Antebellum South (Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1978); David M. Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham: Race And Slavery in Early Judaism, Christianity, And Islam (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003); David N. Livingstone, Adam's Ancestors: Race, Religion, and the Politics of Human Origins (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008).

101 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 7. 102 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 10.

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After praising democracy and freedom, Palmer spoke about how he was not troubled by the

political turmoil in the nation. He longed for a day when “Ephraim [was] not vexing Judah,

nor Judah Ephraim, and adjusting all their differences in one august national council. . . . the

historic mission of this country is the erection of such a shaft, piercing upward to the very

stars, having a whole continent for its pedestal.”103 Palmer, like nearly every preacher at that

time in the South, wanted the Union to endure and repudiated turning the pulpit “into a

political rostrum.”104 By this, he meant that the North should not be allowed to speak about

the issue of abolition, since slavery was not their concern; it pushed the South to have to

defend it unwillingly.105

The latter half of the speech took an important turn towards the global problems of labor and

capital. Throughout the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, America had witnessed

various revolutions in Europe. The South was an acute observer of these wars and diagnosed

the central problem as unresolved tension between labor and capitol. Capital wants labor at

the lowest cost, but labor seeks the greatest compensation for the smallest amount of

effort.106 For Palmer, the balance between labor and capital was unequal and thus could not

be maintained. Palmer suggested that the solution to this ongoing global crisis was the slave

system. If capital owned labor, then it would be the responsibility of the capital-owning class

to care for the needs of labor adequately. With labor thus provided for, the enslavement of

labor would provide social stability since labor would not have the freedom to subvert the

interests of capital.

Palmer stated that if capital and labor cannot be reconciled, then “I do not see but the last

hope of mankind [America] perishes in the acknowledgment of our defeat.”107 Palmer

103 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 16. 104 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 19. 105 Until Palmer felt dragged into the debate and ensuing war, he avoided any comment on the heated

controversies of the day such as the Compromise of 1850, the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854, and the ongoing territorial issues related to the Fugitive Slave Act.

106 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 26–27. 107 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 29.

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declared that America, the culmination of human history, the heir of Japhet, offers the gift of

a solution to the world: racial slavery. As Palmer had noted earlier, the most significant

problems in the world were political: how can humanity eat, work, and live in peace? These

fundamental questions were answered in the most perfect way on the shores of America.

History removed monarchy and gave democracy as a superior form of government, found

pre-eminently in America. However, because history ran up against the tension between

labor and capital, a pure democracy would lead to anarchy (as seen in Europe). Slavery, then,

is the answer to the potentially chaotic forces found in a democracy. Palmer announced a

new day for the world: “The splendor of the sun at noon shall not outshine the glory of the

American name in giving this day of brightness to a world in anguish.”108 For Palmer,

slavery was “the only solution which the experience and wisdom of six thousand years have

as yet devised.”109 He concluded by saying that the South must preserve the peculiar

institution, not merely because it needs to or even because it is biblical, but “from a special

sense of duty to mankind.”110

This speech was of decisive importance in the thought of Palmer. He took all the traditional

arguments for slavery and moved beyond them, elevating slavery into something of global

and historic importance.111 He resolutely believed that the Southern system of slavery was

the final solution for all world problems, as it resolved democracy’s lingering problem of

labor and capital.112 Thus, in the mind of Palmer, the South emerged as the pinnacle of

108 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 30. 109 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 31. 110 Palmer, “Our Historic Mission,” 32. 111 See Fox-Genovese and Genovese: “During the portentous century in which the western tradition as

a whole was repudiating its own long-standing acceptance of unfree labor, especially slave labor, Southern slaveholders not merely persisted in the defense of slavery, they purposefully raised it to an abstract model of necessary social order.” Fox-Genovese and Genovese, “The Divine Sanction of Social Order,” 211.

112 The South was not as motivated by the millennialism that seems to have at times been present in the

North. See James H. Moorhead, American Apocalypse: Yankee Protestants and the Civil War, 1860–1869 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1978); Wesley, The Politics of Faith During the Civil War, 112. The South did not feel it needed to move toward something, but rather that it had already arrived. Thus, now they needed to defend what they had against corruption. Hughes writes: “This meant that of supreme importance was the retaining of the godly, status quo.” Hughes, “A Civic Theology for the South,” 457.

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human civilization. In this address we can see the final thread of history bound up with the

threads of Scripture and Providence. Palmer believed that the Scriptures prophetically

declared that in the Providence of God the South was given slavery for the historical progress

of humanity.

2.2 Summary of Palmer’s Early Years

Early in his ministry, Palmer laid the groundwork for a distinctly Southern vision of

Christianity. Despite his claim to be scientific and impartial, his vision was distinctly

Southern; it could not have been exported to another part of the country. This claim demands

comment, however, since his practices should have allowed for an impartial acceptance of

his findings. So, before passing on from this early period, the manner of Palmer’s attempt in

securing the South against philosophical and scriptural criticism ought to be noted. Palmer,

with Thornwell as a guide (as will be seen below), knowingly tried to adopt enlightenment

science without enlightenment skepticism.113 Thus, Palmer aimed to get behind Hume,

Berkeley, Locke, and Descartes, to get to Bacon.114 The moves in empirical philosophy from

Descartes to Hume drew one closer and closer to a solipsism that would not have allowed for

the objective certainty Palmer needed if he was to argue that his positions were based on

careful historic and scientific observation.115 Like other Old School Presbyterians,116 he

113 S. W. Stanfield, “Scripturalism and Rationalism,” Southern Presbyterian Review 5, no. 2 (October

1851): 271–83. See also Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 61. Farmer likewise observes that Southern intellectuals tried to halt skepticism by faith, even while using skeptical tools. Farmer, The Metaphysical Confederacy, 147.

114 Palmer was aware of the empiricist method involving the mind and sense data. Bozeman quotes

Palmer: “The mind, destitute, at birth, of all knowledge, without power to create within itself a single material of thought, and depending upon experience for all dominion of an impetuous curiosity, which sends it forth. . . . It is furnished with the senses, the open avenues by which it enters the domain of nature.” Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 59, quoting Benjamin Palmer, The Love of Truth, the Inspiration of the Scholar An Address Delivered before the Philomathean & Euphemean Literary Societies of Erskine College, at the Annual Commencement, August 9, 1854 (Due West, SC: Telescope Office, 1854), 14.

115 Note that Southern Presbyterians were aware of British empirical philosophy and theories of human

knowledge. See S. J. Cassells, “The Origin of Our Ideas Concerning a God,” Southern Presbyterian Review 2, no. 2 (September 1849): 203–14. Cassells employed a Lockean method to argue against any innate knowledge of God and to argue for the necessity of revelation, although this was done without any of the Lockean skepticism on the knowability of external objects. The point of the article, as Palmer’s point above, was to keep

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avoided this by using a Baconian approach filtered through the Scottish Common Sense

philosophy of Thomas Reid.117 As Farmer has written, Baconianism was “the answer of the

orthodox Christian mind to the views of John Locke, David Hume, and Bishop George

Berkeley.”118 Palmer was able to draw together all the various ideological threads and

present them as compellingly fresh. In order to carry out his program successfully, however,

Palmer resorted to using the medieval interpretive practices that he had castigated. In his

essay on Bacon, Palmer had said, “Theology, no less than philosophy, rejects the doctrine of

innate ideas . . . faith receives only upon evidence.”119 In short, one must approach the Bible

as a scientist approaches nature: stripped of all a priori concepts. However, as noted above,

this assumes that the two sources of revelation are of the same substance and can be handled

with the same tools. Palmer invalidates his own claim time and again as he uses figural

methods to draw scriptural conclusions. We will see this more explicitly in chapter three: the

science in submission to theology while employing scientific tools and eschewing pre-enlightenment tools. “Let not science then boast of a triumph it has never achieved,” since revelation was needed to discover Christian truths. Cassells, “The Origin of Our Ideas,” 214. This tension between science and religion seems to have been a universal theme in America, even among those of vastly different inclinations. Compare the 1831 journal entry by Emerson, “Religion that is afraid of science dishonors God and commits suicide” Bliss Perry, ed., The Heart of Emerson’s Journals (New York: Dover Publications, 1995), 48.

116 See Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 24. Bozeman observes that Locke, the most

important philosopher in Revolutionary America, “was scarcely being taught in American colleges, having been crowded out by the new Scottish texts.” Yet Locke and the empirical tradition were inescapable. The eighteenth century Enlightenment had discredited a theological interpretation of the universe and attempted to provide a new science to replace it. Compare the insightful comments by Isaiah Berlin: “A science of nature had been created; a science of mind had yet to be made. . . . All that was needed was a reliable method of discovery . . . there was to be no a priori deduction from ‘natural’ principles, hallowed in the Middle Ages, without experimental evidence,” (Isaiah Berlin, The Age of Enlightenment [New York: Meridian, 1984], 15–17). These comments on the eighteenth century Enlightenment replicate what Palmer was attempting to do in the mid-nineteenth century. Yet, what we are suggesting is that if the methodology of the Enlightenment was hostile toward historic Christianity, it may have been too ambitious of Palmer to think he could fully redeem and re-Christianize the Enlightenment tools.

117 Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 21. Bozeman outlines the ways in which Baconian

philosophy was filtered through Scottish Realism. He also notes that it was the “single most powerful current in general intellectual and academic circles until after the Civil War.” See also Farmer, The Metaphysical Confederacy, 77ff; Livingston, “Natural Science and Theology,” 142, 153, 154.

118 Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 93. 119 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 244. See also Bozeman, “Inductive and Deductive Politics,”

715. “Moral structures and events, like the planets in their orbits, were natural phenomena regulated by general laws.”

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unfounded figural leap designating Africans as descendants of Ham was used to argue that

the biblical text which identified Ham as destined for slavery was a legitimate basis for a

universal racial law. Farmer critiques the purportedly objective method of Southern

Presbyterians, saying, “While they virtually sanctified Sir Frances Bacon and advocated the

Baconian method as a safeguard against unstructured speculation, they did not practice it.”120

When the war pressed Palmer to apply the Scriptures to his current context, he chose to

employ a figural method loaded with the emotive heat of romantic honor and chivalry, for

the sake of Southern society.121 In his attempt to use enlightenment tools while producing

thoroughly figural readings, it appears that the left hand did not know what the right hand

was doing. This disjunct apparent in the Southern mindset seems to be related to a disjunct in

their method of reading Scripture. The result was that Palmer believed the security of the

South would be preserved not through an impartial scientific reading, but through a figural

interpretation of the Scriptures. For Palmer, defending the honor of the South was non-

negotiable, and he was willing to bend Scripture, Providence, and history toward that end.

Palmer’s approach caused a number of erosions, as his methodology of accepting only what

could be empirically verified was incapable of sustaining the most important Christian

truths—for example, the Trinity, the incarnation, the resurrection, and the sacraments. While

Palmer knew that the church needed to receive some of the articles of religion as revelatory

truths,122 these did not play any significant part in his formative vision for the South.123 We

120 Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 147–48. Farmer writes that Thornwell, “having thus covered

[himself in the Baconian scientific method] could then proceed to ‘do Christian metaphysics in the same way it had been done for nearly two thousand years.’” Here Farmer quotes Herbert Hovenkamp, Science and Religion in America, 1800–1860 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1978), 27. However, in chapter four, we will argue that this is not entirely accurate. We suggest that Thornwell adheres to a Baconian method of pure scientific observation. Because he does so, he will not make much use of the Bible (since figuration is necessary for application).

121 See also the observations of Sidney Ahlstrom, A Religious History of the American People (New

Haven: Yale University Press, 1972), 648ff; Farmer, The Metaphysical Confederacy, 90; Fox-Genovese and Genovese, The Mind of the Master Class, 249ff.

122 Palmer, “Baconianism and the Bible,” 244. Yet, even this reception of things on faith was not the

faith that held to things unseen. “Faith receives only upon evidence” was the position taken by all the Old School Presbyterians. See Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 142. They did not see that this opened an opportunity for those cornerstones to be overturned.

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see a complete absence of the cross in his working out of a social vision. This continued in

his later years. By emphasizing principles rather than the person of Jesus Christ as

scripturally articulated, his approach allowed for the denigration of the slave’s physical body.

Therefore, while a slave needed to be physically provided for by his master, this provision

did not extend to liberation from bondage. By removing the body of Christ from its central

position metaphysically, Palmer’s reading and application of the Scriptures was constricted.

Since Palmer did not tether human bodies to a Christological meaning, he was compelled to

seek some other relationship between distinct groups of people. In fact, Palmer argued that

the most optimal arrangement between peoples was for white capital to keep black labor

permanently enslaved.

His writings from these early years expose Palmer’s formative understanding of Scripture,

Providence, and history. While his vision was comprehensive enough to be widely appealing

to Southerners, there were fault lines in his interpretation of Scripture and his operating

methods, particularly in his failure to navigate the conflict between ancient faith and modern

science more carefully. In chapter three we will see that Palmer concentrated his powers on

expanding and applying these three categories of Scripture, Providence, and history to

uphold the South. The South, he thought, would be God’s final gift to the world by becoming

and maintaining their “historic” status124 If the white South found slavery necessary, then the

South must have slavery. Palmer’s attempt at objectivity vanished before the need to defend

the South. Likewise, Palmer had so invested Southern society with a world-historical

importance that it would only be logical for him to suggest that this society be defended at all

costs.

123 As illuminating as Bozeman’s Protestants in an Age of Science is, he does not seem to see that the

methodology of Old School Presbyterians led to the philosophical skepticism they were trying to avoid. Moreover, it resulted in a reading of the Bible that could not sustain primary Christian truths and forced an ungoverned and reflexive figural reading upon the text that led to a justification for both slavery and violence. Bozeman notes flaws, but in his view the attempt by Old School Presbyterians “historically appraised . . . must be recognized as an ennobling enterprise which succeeded for a time in charging natural science with humanistic value” (Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 170). Bozeman does not trace at length any possible links between this methodology and the justification of slavery and violence.

124 Palmer will not only use Genesis 9–11 as an argument for slavery, but also to justify segregation

after the war. This will be examined further in the next chapter. See also Hughes, “A Civic Theology for the South,” 463.

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Thus far, in our case study of Palmer, we have seen how he constructed a way to approach

the Scriptures and a way to approach society without reference to the person of Christ.

Within this framework, bodies remain in division (North versus South; black versus white).

In chapter three, we will see him deploying his concepts to forcefully argue for bodies to

remain in division. He will argue that a war should be fought to maintain slavery against the

abolitionist North. After the war he will argue that segregation should be enforced, and

reunification with the Northern Presbyterian Church opposed.

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Chapter 3

Benjamin Morgan Palmer: The War Years and Beyond

With no electoral votes from the South, Abraham Lincoln was elected president on

November 6, 1860. By December 20th, Palmer’s home state would secede. South Carolina

was quickly followed by Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas. On

April 12, 1861, Fort Sumter in Charleston, South Carolina was fired upon. Lincoln called for

75,000 volunteer troops on April 15, which caused Virginia to secede on April 17, followed

by Arkansas, North Carolina, and Tennessee. The Presbyterian church had split on

theological lines in 1837, but following the break-up of the United States, the Presbyterian

church now split again along geographical lines. The General Assembly of 1858 met in

Palmer’s First Presbyterian Church of New Orleans.1 Three years later in Philadelphia, that

body declared its loyalty to the United States. As a result, an alternative assembly of

Southern Presbyterians met in Atlanta in August 1861. This group created the framework for

a Southern General Assembly, which was finalized on December 4, 1861. At the inaugural

meeting, Palmer served as moderator and preached the opening sermon.2

Thus, when the South erupted, Palmer became one of the most vocal proponents of Southern

ideology. Most of his peers, although they were not so loud or ubiquitous, also took up the

Southern cause in one way or another. As James Silver has written, “The church as a whole

compiled an enviable record of unwavering support of and devotion to the Confederate

government.”3 Prior to 1860, Palmer had said that he wanted to avoid politics, and he was

largely true to his word. When the South was threatened with war, however, Palmer left

behind all restraint. Southern ministers were convinced that their vision alone would be able

1 George Howe, “The General Assembly of 1858,” Southern Presbyterian Review 11, no. 2 (July

1858): 264. 2 Wayne C. Eubank and Dallas C. Dickey, “Benjamin Morgan Palmer, Southern Divine,” The

Quarterly Journal of Speech 30, no. 4 (1944): 425; W. Harrison Daniel, “Southern Presbyterians in the Confederacy,” The North Carolina Historical Review 44, no. 3 (July 1967): 252.

3 James W. Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda (New York: Norton, 1967), 63.

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to promote biblical authority, stave off labor rebellion, and create societal harmony like the

world had never known. This caused someone like Palmer to loudly advocate for war and

Southern preservation. As Silver asserted, “Clergymen led the way to secession.”4

In chapter two, we examined the formation and direction of Palmer’s thought, which bent

itself around his understanding of Scripture, Providence, and history. In this chapter, we will

examine more thoroughly how he utilized these concepts to uphold the honor of the South

during and after the war, and how he turned Scripture into a figural vehicle to advance racist

and partisan ideas. Palmer believed that his vision was capable of guiding the South to an

Edenic hope. Such was not to be, but in fighting for this vision, Palmer became a voice for

those who held to the Southern slaveholding mindset. For example, South Carolina’s

secession documents and Palmer’s preaching at that time were mirror images of each other.5

During the war Palmer travelled throughout the Confederacy promoting his theological

perspective and defending the South. After the war, the loss of the country he championed

did not cause him to retire from public life or to reconsider his theological approach.6

Instead, he adapted his concepts to fit the changed political landscape of a fallen South and

the abolition of slavery. Palmer’s continued search for scriptural and historical laws then

aimed to give direction to a nation grappling with catastrophic failure and an uncertain way

forward. Because he promoted a hermeneutic of division, his message was easily absorbed

4 Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 93. 5 South Carolina’s state convention ratified a secession ordinance on December 20, 1860. This was

followed by a declaration of the cause of secession on December 24. The South Carolina state convention then issued an address to the other slaveholding states on December 25. Mississippi was the first to answer the call on January 9, 1861. The documents from South Carolina listed the continuing concerns: over abolitionists, the election of Abraham Lincoln, the failure of the North to follow through on the fourth article of the Constitution, the impiety of Northern religion, fears for the ruination of Southern society, the benefit of slavery for slaves and for the rest of the world, and the necessity of slave labor over free labor. See John D. Fowler, ed., The Confederate Experience Reader: Selected Documents and Essays (New York: Routledge, 2008), 96–119. “The intimate ties between religion and nationalism in early America suggest that religion played a major role in the formation of a Southern national identity,” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 5. See Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 84–89, on shared Southern fears. Palmer’s contemporary R. L. Stanton (as will be seen in chapter five) also observed the correlation between what Palmer did first and what South Carolina did subsequently.


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into the larger Southern agenda of hostility toward the North and toward African Americans.

Palmer left behind a legacy that would extend its reach into the ideology of the Lost Cause

and segregation. Timothy Reilly has said, “At the time of his death in 1902, Palmer had

become one of the chief architects of the Lost Cause.”7

3.1 The Eve of War

On November 29, 1860 Palmer delivered what came to be known as his “Thanksgiving

Sermon” in the First Presbyterian Church of New Orleans to an estimated 2,000 people.8

This important sermon demands close examination. Many have suggested that it was a

significant motivator in Louisiana’s secession.9 Biographer Thomas Cary Johnson writes that

it was Palmer’s sermon that finally convinced the people of New Orleans to wholly endorse

secession. Johnson records an unknown observer who said, “I cannot recall an occasion

when the effect upon the audience was so profound. After the benediction, [all] in solemn

silence, no man speaking to his neighbor . . . but afterwards the drums beat and the bugles

sounded; for New Orleans was shouting for secession.”10 James Silver interprets the scene:

7 Timothy F. Reilly, “Benjamin M. Palmer: Secessionist Become Nationalist,” Louisiana History: The

Journal of the Louisiana Historical Association 18, no. 3 (Summer 1977): 289. 8 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty (New Orleans: The True Witness and

Sentinel, 1860).

9 Much of Louisiana was sympathetic toward Northern Democrat Stephen Douglas. Although John Breckinridge was an outspoken defender of the South, “the two most conciliatory of the four candidates in the race [Bell and Douglas], was more than three times the Breckinridge total,” Haskell Monroe, “Bishop Palmer’s Thanksgiving Day Address,” Louisiana History 4, no. 2 (Spring 1963): 107. The people of Louisiana were not yet ready to abandon the Union. Yet, without Louisiana and the all-important port of New Orleans, an economically viable South would be difficult. On Thursday, November 29, Governor Thomas O. Moore proclaimed “a day of fasting and Worship to Almighty God,” seeking counsel from God for the future of the state. Haskell Monroe, “Bishop Palmer’s Thanksgiving Day Address,” 107. See Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 64, on the importance of fast days.

10 Johnson, Palmer, 220. Saum contended that the common people often did not have national or

divine intentions in mind when making decisions. It was the preachers and politicians who convinced them that Providence was forcing them in a certain direction. Saum writes, “The common man, however, when his imagination was not ignited by Fourth of July orators, exercised much caution in commandeering God’s devices.” Saum, The Popular Mood of Pre-Civil War America, 7.

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“It was ‘the big villain of the play,’ the eloquent Palmer, who catapulted himself into the

limelight as the secessionist orator of the day with his Thanksgiving sermon.”11 C. C. Goen

describes the effect of the sermon, saying that it “was a decisive factor in coagulating

secession sentiment. According to a common opinion during the war, Palmer did ‘more for a

Confederate cause than a regiment of soldiers.’”12

The sermon was widely reprinted in the South. Shelton Smith observes that the New Orleans

Daily Delta published the entire sermon three times within four days. The paper distributed

more than 30,000 copies of the sermon.13 Smith continues, “Other papers throughout the

South published all or large portions of it. It was distributed by the thousands in pamphlet

form. As a generator of disunion sentiment, it excelled every other pulpit deliverance of

southern clergy.”14 It was very possible that the legislators of South Carolina read Palmer’s

sermon before they wrote their declaration of cause of secession on December 24.

Near the beginning of the sermon Palmer stated that he would rather not have entered the

political arena, “I have preferred to move among you as a preacher of righteousness

belonging to a kingdom not of this world”15 Yet, feeling that the South and its institution of

slavery was threatened, Palmer asserted,

11 Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 17. Silver goes on to describe how the printed

pamphlets of the sermon, perhaps some fifty thousand, gathered “a fearful harvest.” Farmer suggests that Palmer elevated the use of rhetoric to “its highest level” in his role as Southern preacher. Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 117.

12 Goen, Broken Churches, Broken Nation, 131. Eubank writes that “no other southern sermon on

slavery and secession received greater acclaim or wider attention.” Wayne C. Eubank, “Benjamin Morgan Palmer’s Thanksgiving Sermon,” in Antislavery and Disunion, 1853–1861: Studies in the Rhetoric of Compromise and Conflict, ed. J. Jeffery Auer. (New York: Harper and Row, 1963), 308. On the importance of the sermon, see Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 180; Reilly, “Secessionist Become Nationalist,” 289. It was “reported that the proponents of secession commanded little or no respect in New Orleans until Palmer interposed the sacred mission in defense of ‘God and religion.’” Reilly, “Secessionist Become Nationalist,” 291. See also Monroe, “Bishop Palmer’s Thanksgiving Day Address,” 115; Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 179; Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 95.

13 Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 179. 14 H. Shelton Smith, In His Image, But . . .: Racism in Southern Religion, 1780–1910. (Durham: Duke

University Press, 1972), 175. 15 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 5. He repeats this idea in his inaugural sermon for the

Southern Presbyterian Assembly in December 1861. See also Eubank and Dickey, “Southern Divine,” 426.

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Need I pause to show how this system is interwoven with our entire social fabric; that these slaves form parts of our households, even as our children; and that, too, through a relationship recognized and sanctioned in the Scriptures of God even as the other? Must I pause to show how it has fashioned our modes of life, and determined all our habits of thought and feeling, and moulded the very type of our civilization? How then can the hand of violence be laid upon it without involving our existence? . . . If we are true to ourselves we shall, at this critical juncture, stand by it and work out our destiny.16

Palmer mentioned the obvious economic reason for the South to protect slavery, but then

appealed to the more inspiring value of Southern paternal care for the slaves. Southerners

were “the constituted guardians of the slaves themselves.”17 The slaves were helpless,

dependent, affectionate, and loyal. “No calamity can befall them greater than the loss of that

protection they enjoy under this patriarchal system.”18 To send them to Africa would be

cruel. To free them would be irresponsible. Palmer headed off the possible criticism of those

16 A longer quote is helpful here: “Need I pause to show how this system is interwoven with our entire

social fabric; that these slaves form parts of our households, even as our children; and that, too, through a relationship recognized and sanctioned in the Scriptures of God even as the other? Must I pause to show how it has fashioned our modes of life, and determined all our habits of thought and feeling, and moulded the very type of our civilization? How then can the hand of violence be laid upon it without involving our existence? The so-called free States of this country are working out the social problem under conditions peculiar to themselves. These conditions are sufficiently hard, and their success is too uncertain, to excite in us the least jealousy of their lot. With a teeming population, which the soil cannot support—with their wealth depending upon arts, created by artificial wants—with an external friction between the grades of their society—with their labor and their capital grinding against each other like the upper and nether millstones—with labor cheapened and displaced by new mechanical inventions, bursting more asunder the bonds of brotherhood; amid these intricate perils we have ever given them our sympathy and our prayers, and have never sought to weaken the foundations of their social order. God grant them complete success in the solution of all their perplexities! We, too, have our responsibilities and trials; but they are all bound up in this one institution, which has been the object of such unrighteous assault through five and twenty years. If we are true to ourselves we shall, at this critical juncture, stand by it and work out our destiny.” Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 8. This sentiment was shared among most Southern preachers. See Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 23. Snay observes that the abolitionist crisis of the “early 1830s marked a decisive shift in Southern thinking toward a defense of slavery as a positive good.” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 20. This occurred most notably as denominational governing bodies moved away from pronouncing slavery an evil to be tolerated toward viewing it as an institution to be protected. Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 24–29. In the century prior, slavery was more widely disputed in the major denominations than it would be in the mid-nineteenth century. For example, the Methodist Episcopal Church’s first General Conference in 1784 declared that every slaveholding member had to free his slaves, except in those states where manumission was prohibited. Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 127.

17 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 9. 18 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 9.

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who might say that such paternalism was merely a pretense for manipulation, saying, “I

know this argument will be scoffed abroad as the hypocritical cover thrown over our own

cupidity and selfishness; but every Southern master knows its truth and feels its power.”19

Palmer then returned to the theme of the South’s economic concerns, but expanded these to

have worldwide historic consequences.

Since the South was the one place in the world where labor and capital had a peaceful

relationship, slavery was not only important to the South, but for the world. Palmer used the

weight of biblical imagery to explain,

It is a duty which we owe, further, to the civilized world . . . Strike a blow at this system of labor and the world itself totters at the stroke . . . Do we not owe it to civilized man to stand in the breach and stay the uplifted arm? If the blind Samson lays hold of the pillars which support the arch of the world’s industry, how many more will be buried beneath its ruins than the lords of the Philistines? ‘Who knoweth whether we are not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?’20

Palmer’s use of Samson’s tragic end was curious. Was the South Samson? If so, was it not

good that he perished, redeeming himself and killing the Philistine lords? But why would

Palmer want to suggest that it was best if Samson let the Philistines live? The obvious

questions as to the identification of Palmer’s referents were beside the point; the rhetoric was

everything. If Southern slavery was struck down, the whole world would shake. This was an

example of Palmer’s uncontrolled figuralism. The various threads only made sense through

the prism of defending Southern honor, as the final reference from Esther 4:14 suggests. Just

as Esther was appointed to save the Jewish people, so the South had been appointed to

protect slavery for the good of the world. Palmer applied this type of figuralism to several

other Old Testament images in the sermon, referencing the Psalms, Abraham, Samson, Joel,

Obadiah, The Most High, and Jehovah. There were no references at all to the New

Testament, and apart from a token mention of Jesus at the beginning of the sermon, his name

never comes up again.

19 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 9–10. 20 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 10–11.

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This kind of use of Scripture caused Noll to say, “Ministers seem to have introduced the

Bible fairly late into the process of preparing sermonic responses to momentous public

events . . . Scripture became a gateway not for the proclamation of essentially biblical

messages but for the minister’s social, political, or cultural conviction”; Snay likewise said

“the Bible was . . . a storehouse for types to support their convictions.”21 However, we

would disagree with both of these authors. We do not see Southern preachers attaching texts

late in their thinking, or treating biblical images as a storehouse to rummage through. Rather,

we see Southern preachers immersed and saturated in a biblical world. They were, in some

ways, the last pre-enlightenment readers of the biblical text in the western world: a society

living and ordering itself in a scriptural universe. They did not look at Israel as a type for the

South. Rather the South was Israel.22 Noll more accurately describes the tensions when he

writes, “The Bible was not so much the truth above all truth as it was the story above all

stories.”23 While this is closer to what we are suggesting, we would still find room to

disagree. Americans, particularly in the South, would not have wanted to or been able to

draw the distinctions that Noll draws. For the South, living in the story was the truth. It was

not that they chose Southern honor and justified it through the Bible. Rather, choosing

Southern honor was choosing the Bible. Conversely, choosing the Bible meant choosing

Southern honor. They were the same choice. The framework they employed allowed multiple

scriptural figures to be taken up and applied in an almost dizzying way. We would suggest

that a more substantial critique of their approach was not that they justified all their actions

through biblical figures, but that their ethnic-historical figuralism had no room in it for Jesus.

Palmer’s organizing idea for his “Thanksgiving Sermon” was “in this great struggle, we

defend the cause of God and religion.”24 Palmer viewed himself and the South as defenders

21 Noll, The Bible in America, 5; Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 189.

22 This appropriation of Israel had been occurring since the founding of the Puritan New England

colonies. See Harry S. Stout, “Word and Order in Colonial New England,” in The Bible in America, 29. See also Noll’s comments, “Nothing . . . could be more obvious than the biblical character of the United States in its early years,” “The Image of the United States as a Biblical Nation, 1776–1865,” in The Bible in America, 41.

23 Noll, “The Image of the United States,” 43. 24 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 11.

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against forces antithetical toward true religion. He then expanded upon this by playing upon

the Southern fears of abolitionism and the French Revolution.25 Although Southern ministers

consistently and confidently beat back abolitionist arguments, the South nonetheless viewed

abolitionists as instigators who stirred up the North and the world against them. The South

viewed the anarchy of the French Revolution and the revolutions in its wake as a failure to

bring labor and capital into a harmonious relationship.26 Thus, juxtaposed against

abolitionism and revolution, slavery did two things. First, it allowed the Bible to be read

accurately and authoritatively, since the Bible sanctioned slavery. Secondly, slavery allowed

for the only way known to deal with the tensions of labor and capital. Thus, attacking the

institution of slavery was an attack on biblical authority and peaceful civilization.27 Palmer

asserted,

This spirit of atheism which knows no God . . . has selected us for its victims and slavery for its issue. Its banner-cry rings out already upon the air—‘liberty, equality, fraternity,’ which simply interpreted mean bondage, confiscation, and massacre. With its tricolor waving in the breeze, it waits to inaugurate its reign of terror. To the South the high position is assigned of defending, before all nations, the cause of all religion and of all truth.28

25 See Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 155–59. 26 The European continental revolutions of 1848 were not far removed from Palmer’s world of 1860. 27 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 12; Palmer continued, “The abolition spirit is

undeniably atheistic. The demon which erected its throne upon the guillotine in the days of Robespierre and Marat, which abolished the Sabbath and worshipped reason in the person of a harlot, yet survives to work other horrors. . . . Among a people so generally religious as the American, a disguise must be worn; but it is the same old threadbare disguise of the advocacy of human rights. . . . as in France, the decree has gone forth which strikes at God by striking at all subordination and law.” George Rable comments that for Palmer, “The American founders had failed to acknowledge God in their Constitution and therefore had sown seeds of national destruction.” Rable, God’s Almost Chosen Peoples: A Religious History of the American Civil War (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2010), 73. A contemporary of Palmer, Presbyterian Thomas Smyth, attacked the Declaration of Independence as a harmfully liberal document; see Goen, “Broken Churches, Broken Nation: Regional Religion and North-South Alienation in Antebellum America,” Church History 52, no. 1 (March 1983): 32–33. Criticism of the Declaration of Independence was widespread enough to cause Lincoln to comment on it in his 1852 eulogy of Henry Clay. He wrote that there were “a few, but an increasing number of men, who, for the sake of perpetuating slavery, are beginning to assail and to ridicule the white-man’s charter of freedom—the declaration that ‘all men are created free and equal,’” Abraham Lincoln, Selected Speeches and Writings (New York: Library of America, 2009), 88. But this was not always so within Presbyterianism. Compare the opinion that it was largely due to Presbyterianism that the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution existed at all. See Thomas Smyth, “Presbyterianism—The Revolution—The Declaration of Independence, and the Constitution,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 4 (March 1848): 67.

28 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 11.

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After attaching such righteous reasons to the protection of slavery, he summed up what it

meant to defend the institution in proclaiming that his argument “touches the four cardinal

points of duty to ourselves, to our slaves, to the world, and to almighty God.”29 Therefore, in

defending slavery, the South has answered their Christian obligations to obey God and care

for one’s neighbor.

In the sermon, Palmer mentioned “Providence” or “providential” twenty-one times. This was

Palmer’s key theological concept. He said, “In determining our duty in this emergency it is

necessary that we should first ascertain the nature of the trust providentially committed to

us.” A few sentences later he spelled out specifically what this providential trust was: “to

conserve and to perpetuate the institution of domestic slavery as now existing.”30 Palmer

delivered with divine certainty the message many wanted to hear: God had given the South

slavery, and the South must defend God’s gift.31 Palmer asserted, “It is time to reproduce the

obsolete idea that Providence must govern man, and not that man shall control

Providence.”32 Noting, however, that there was an “intricate social problem”, he said,

In the grand march of events Providence may work out a solution undiscoverable by us. . . . Providence will furnish the lights in which it is to be resolved. All that we claim for them and for ourselves is liberty to work out this problem guided by nature and God, without obtrusive interference from abroad. These great questions of

29 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 11 30 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 6. 31 Contrast Lincoln’s “Meditation on the Divine Will,” a highly unusual piece of thinking for the time;

see the discussion in Noll, The Civil War as a Theological Crisis (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 88–90. Palmer’s view of the perspicuity of Providence was something he shared with Thornwell; see also chapter four. The belief that the purpose of historical events could be comprehended (and hence the ways of Providence working in those events) was a common sentiment in the South. See Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 167. Noll observes that the perspicuity of Providence was not only long held in America, but also long held to defend slavery. In the early 1770’s Thomas Thompson published a book arguing that the Bible clearly upheld slavery. Writes Noll, “Thompson’s defense could not have been more direct. In effect: open the Bible, read it, believe it,” Noll, The Civil War, 33. Noll goes on to observe that part of the reason Stowe’s novel, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, received criticism in the South was because “this novel might awaken uncertainty about the supposedly perspicuous authority of the Bible.” Noll, The Civil War, 43.

32 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 10–11.

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Providence and history must have free scope for their solution. . . . We should . . . proclaim to all the world that we hold this trust from God.33

Thus, if the South had the institution of slavery, it was because God so ordained it. If God

willed to end the institution, then it would come without “interference from abroad.” This

appeal to Providence allowed Palmer to keep criticisms of Southern society at arm’s length.

Such a view of Providence was based on his ethnic-historical figuralism. As we saw in the

introduction, figuralism can come in many forms (virtues and vices; attitudes toward God;

redemption and damnation; etc.). Palmer’s figuralism had a constant driving concern to trace

the will of God for various races and people groups through history. In doing so, the

particularity of Jesus would have been difficult to integrate.

Palmer’s logic led him to assert that submission to the North was impossible. He declared

that the primary law of self-preservation compelled the South to defend its institutions: “It is

bound upon us, then, by the principle of self-preservation, that ‘first law’ which is

continually asserting its supremacy over all others.”34 Later in the sermon he would say,

“Though war be the aggregation of all evils, yet, should the madness of the hour appeal to

the arbitration of the sword, we will not shrink even from the baptism of fire.”35 At the end,

Palmer gathered up all his patriotic sentiment and said, “It only remains to say, that whatever

be the fortunes of the South, I accept them for my own. . . . she is in every sense, my mother.

I shall die upon her bosom—she shall know no peril, but it is my peril—no conflict, but it is

my conflict—and no abyss of run, into which I shall not share her fall. May the Lord God

cover her head in this her day of battle!”36 With the cornerstones of Providence and refusal to

submit clearly in place, there came a warrant for violence.37 In sorting through the crisis

33 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 7. He spoke similarly of Providence in 1872 in The

Present Crisis and Its Issues, examined below. 34 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 7–8. 35 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 11. 36 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 16 37 See Thomas Smyth, “The Divine Appointment and Obligation of Capital Punishment,” Southern

Presbyterian Review 1, no. 3 (December 1847): 20. It was argued on the basis of the Old Testament that the state has the right to enforce capital punishment and to prosecute war. Christ was brought in to support this: his command to Peter not to kill with the sword supposedly implies that only the state has a right to do this. The

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theologically, Palmer categorically rejected submission.38 Salvation would come through

power.

Palmer’s most elevated bit of biblical figuralism came as he reflected on submission to the

North. He located the South in the figure of Eve and the North as the hissing serpent: “No:

we have seen the trail of the serpent five and twenty years in our Eden; twined now in the

branches of the forbidden tree, we feel the pangs of death already begun as its hot breath is

upon our cheek, hissing out the original falsehood, ‘Ye shall not surely die.’”39 The South

needed to resist the lie that submission would not kill them, as it most certainly would. The

South had a chance to preserve their Eden, but only by doing necessary violence to the

serpent. Only through violence could the South have a chance to emerge as a nation unique

in world history. Palmer proclaimed, “If she [the South] will arise in her majesty, and speak

now as with the voice of one man, she will roll back for all time, the curse that is upon

her.”40 For Palmer a large portion of the hope of redemption for the whole world was

predicated on the willingness of the South to defend their new Eden by crushing the serpent’s

head.41 The South must become its own savior for the sake of the rest of humanity.42

Scriptures thus were not only treated as a text to guide Christian practice, but as a text out of which a social system could be erected.

38 This had been a strong theme in the Old School Presbyterian church since it split in 1837. An 1848

article in the SPR argued that prior to 1837–1838 the Presbyterian church “had been rapidly departing farther and farther from the safe and true course.” What saved the Presbyterian church was the split. Robert J. Breckinridge, “Some Thoughts on the Development of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A.,” Southern Presbyterian Review 2, no. 3 (December 1848): 330.

39 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 13. 40 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 16. 41 See also Snay, Gospel of Disunion: “Indeed, sectarianism ran rampant throughout the antebellum

South” (103). Between denominations there were rivalries between Baptists and Methodists and also a wider controversy over infant and adult baptisms, but most especially there were the controversies over slavery which divided the churches North and South. Snay concludes that “religion helped lead the South toward secession and the Civil War.” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 218.

42 Silver likewise observes that Bishop Stephen Elliott said Southerners “must win their way to a place

in history through the baptism of blood.” Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 25.

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Palmer’s view of Scripture (salvation would come through the South), history (the need to

preserve Southern institutions was in the world’s best interest), and Providence (God himself

was on their side) essentially demanded violence; as Palmer proclaimed, “We are resisting

the power which wars against constitutions and laws and compacts; against Sabbaths and

sanctuaries, against the family, the state, and the church. . . . Is it possible that we shall

decline the onset?” 43

3.2 The War Years: 1861–1865 3.2.1 Establishing the South as Israel On Thursday June 13, 1861, Palmer delivered a sermon titled “National Responsibility

Before God,” after the prompting of the first national Confederate day of fasting proclaimed

by Confederate President Jefferson Davis. Louisiana Governor Moore added his own

proclamation, echoing the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer:, “It is meet, right, and our

bounden duty thus to humble ourselves before Almighty God, and invoke His protection.”44

Palmer took his sermon text from 2 Chronicles 6:34–35. This portion of Solomon’s prayer

43 Palmer, The South: Her Peril, and Her Duty, 11. Concluding his thoughts on Palmer’s sermon, Snay

writes, “It reflects the major corpus of Southern fast day sermons. . . . It conveniently ties together the several strands of Southern clerical thinking on the sectional conflict. . . . It establishes the centrality of slavery in the sectional thought of Southern clergymen. Most important, Palmer’s address is vivid testimony to the intimate bonds between religion and the cause of the South that had been forged during three decades of sectional strife.” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 180.

44 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, National Responsibility Before God: A Discourse, Delivered on the Day

of Fasting, Humiliation and Prayer, Appointed by the President of the Confederate States of America, June 13, 1861 (New Orleans: Price-Current Steam Book and Job Printing Office, 1861), 3. On the importance of “fast days” in the South, compare Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 160–64. Cf., also Benjamin Morgan Palmer, A Vindication of Secession and the South from the Strictures of Rev. R.J. Breckinridge, D.D., LL.D., in the Danville Quarterly Review (Columbia: Southern Guardian Steam–Power Press, 1861), 3–10. In this essay Palmer offers an important political argument for why the North and South are inherently different. For Palmer, there had always been two separate nations in the womb of America. Thus, it was not surprising that a moment of crisis had come. However, in Palmer’s eyes, it was the South that would remain the true heir of the American Revolution. This type of reasoning was seen earlier, when Southern Presbyterians began to control the tone of the General Assembly. The minutes of the 1847 General Assembly record that “Christianity and nature forbid us to bear it [submission to any foreign body interfering with American affairs, especially slavery].” James Henley Thornwell, “The General Assembly,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 2 (September 1847): 104. Snay observes that the South’s attempt to view itself as continuing “the struggle of 1776 was a central contention of Southern nationalists.” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 196.

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during the dedication of the Temple invoked God against Israel’s enemies. In part it reads,

“If thy people go out to war against their enemies . . . maintain their cause.” Palmer did not

expound on the text in the sermon. He closed his sermon with a quote from Deuteronomy

33:26–29, which reads in part, “He shall thrust out the enemy from before thee, and shall say,

destroy them. Israel then shall dwell in safety alone.” However, Palmer did not comment on

this text either. He seemed to have been satisfied with merely framing the sermon with these

Scriptures that apparently needed no interpretation.

Most importantly, in this sermon we see Palmer beginning to place the South in direct figural

relationship with Israel. For Palmer, the South was not something that might correspond to

Israel; rather, the South was Israel recapitulated.45 This is confirmed by what we read at the

beginning of Palmer’s sermon: “Eleven tribes [i.e., the rebel states] sought to go forth in

peace from the house of political bondage: but the heart of our modern Pharaoh is hardened,

that he will not let Israel go.”46 Recalling the solemn ceremonies that Israel conducted before

God as it entered into the Promised Land, Palmer said, “Not less grand and awful is this

scene to-day, when an infant nation strikes its covenant with the God of Heaven.”47 While

both the North and South appropriated biblical Israel (with some differences), the ethical

application of Scripture was roughly the same for both, as we will see in chapter five.

Palmer justified identifying the South with Israel through Genesis 9 and Noah’s sons, a

matrix of ideas he and many other Southern preachers appealed to and which would serve

Palmer until his final years.48 He said, “If we ascend the stream of history to its source, we

45 In a survey of fast day sermons, Snay identified only one by a Northern minister associating the

North with a New Israel. However, this was a common use of biblical imagery in the South. Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 195–96. This allowed Palmer to see the war as “the holiest battle of all time,” as Silver has observed. Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 27. This is not to say that identification with Israel did not occur in the North. However, in the South there was a sense that they had already arrived to a complete identification with Israel (which is why their institutions needed to be preserved). In contrast, there was a sense in the North that the nation was still on the move toward that which it was to become (hence concepts like “manifest destiny”).

46 Palmer, National Responsibility, 5. 47 Palmer, National Responsibility, 5, 6. 48 See Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 56–57.

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find in Noah’s prophetic utterances to his three sons, the fortunes of mankind presented in

perfect outline.”49 Genesis 9 was used to explain the destiny of race: each race corresponded

to one of the sons of Noah. As we saw before in 1858’s Our Historic Mission, white

Europeans were Japheth and African Americans were cursed Ham. Concerning African

Americans, Palmer reiterated that their linkage to Ham is confirmed by their lack of societal

and technological development and insisted, “These facts are beyond impeachment.”50

Palmer went on to state that only the South, not the Union as a whole, could embody Japheth.

He said, “From the beginning two nations were in the American womb; and through the

whole period of gestation the supplanter has had his hand upon his brother’s heel.”51 The

North had displayed itself as corrupted Esau, thereby cutting itself off from the Noahic

blessing on Japheth, which the South alone now retained. The failure of the North to live up

to its Noahic calling was seen by Palmer as revealed in the Constitution, which was absent of

all reference to God. For Palmer, this was evidence that the North was not guided by

Scripture but by enlightenment reasoning. He wrote, “The public leaders of the time were

largely tinctured with the free-thinking and infidel spirit which swept like a pestilence over

Europe in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and which brought forth at last its bitter

fruit in the horrors of the French Revolution.”52 The South receded “from this perilous

atheism,” notably in the Confederate Constitution, where there was “a clear, solemn, official

recognition of Almighty God,” which caused Palmer’s heart to swell “with unutterable

emotions of gratitude and joy.”53 He further argued that the North was heretical since it

appealed to a “higher law,” and not the plain words of Scripture. For many in the North,

49 Palmer, National Responsibility, 7. 50 Palmer, National Responsibility, 8. 51 Palmer, National Responsibility, 27. 52 Palmer, National Responsibility, 13. Palmer did not seem to recognize that his divisive arguments

advocated the same sort of blood-letting as in the French Revolution. 53 Palmer, National Responsibility, 13. The preamble of the Constitution of the Confederate States of

America states that this new nation was “invoking the favor and guidance of Almighty God.” The Confederate Experience Reader: Selected Documents and Essays, ed. John D. Fowler (New York: Taylor and Francis, 2008), 144.

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although the Constitution tacitly allowed for slavery, there was a “higher law” demanding

freedom and equality.54 The phrase became a pocket metaphor in the South for the North’s

supposed rejection of biblical authority and mutually agreed-upon covenants, ultimately

leading to anarchy. Palmer attacked this in his sermon, saying that “the pretensions of a

higher law . . . has involved half the nation in the guilt of perjury, and broken the bond of the

holiest covenant ever sworn between man and man.”55 The South alone remained faithful.

Palmer’s argument was that since the faithful South, as heir of Japheth, was responsible for

leading the world, and Ham’s place in this glorious plan was to serve Japheth, then slavery

was a necessary fact. Palmer spoke of slavery in such an elevated way as to make it

unintelligible to anyone outside the South. He declared,

We have too in the institution of Slavery a great central fact, living and embodied, lifting itself up from the bed of history as the mountain cliff from the bed of the deep, blue sea; and in defending it against the assaults of a ‘rosewater philanthropy,’ we may place ourselves against all the past and feel the support of God’s immovable Providence. Dare we then—dare any of us, man, woman or child—falter upon the path of such a destiny? Dare we quench in eternal night the hope which for a hundred years has been shedding its light upon the world, that man may be self-governed and free?56

When Palmer said that slavery was “a great central fact… lifting itself up from the bed of

history as the mountain cliff,” only a Southerner immersed in the ideology would know that

he meant slavery was the key to literally everything: social harmony, economic stability,

Edenic hope, and every other utopian dream. Slavery was the “great central fact.” Here again

we see how Palmer used his ethnic-historical figuralism to produce supposedly “Baconian”

54 See Fox-Genovese and Genovese, The Mind of the Master Class, 624. When the phrase was uttered

by William Seward in 1850, it was immediately maligned in the South. 55 Palmer, National Responsibility, 20. 56 Palmer, National Responsibility, 26. Although we have not observed Palmer to ever mention the

work of Henry Hughes, one may wonder whether he was influenced by its racism, xenophobia, and white supremacy. Hughes spent time in New Orleans but it is unclear how much attention his thinking attracted. See Henry Hughes, Treatise on Sociology, Theoretical and Practical (Philadelphia: Lippincott, Grambo & Co., 1854).

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scientific fact. He was able to transmute the obscure curse of Ham into racial slavery. He

could then assert that the slavery of Ham was necessary to establish the house of Japheth.

3.2.2 Defending Southern Honor After the capture of New Orleans by Flag Officer David Farragut in May 1862, a bounty was

placed on Palmer’s head by the occupying General Benjamin Butler. Palmer fled New

Orleans. Traveling widely throughout the South, Palmer variously served as a chaplain,

addressed state governments, and everywhere defended and encouraged the cause of the

South, assuming the appearance, as Silver has suggested, “of a prophet of the Lord.”57

Eventually finding himself back home in South Carolina, he was asked to preach the funeral

sermon of General Maxcy Gregg on December 20, 1862. Highlighting a funeral sermon may

seem like an unnecessary aside in our examination of Palmer’s thought. However, in this

sermon Palmer displayed a central tenet of the Southern mindset: honor, which the South

must protect and the Lord would defend.

From Gregg’s life Palmer extracted two lessons. The first was that Gregg was a martyr. For

the people of South Carolina his blood was sacred, demanding vengeance. The tombs of

these sacred martyrs demanded “undying resistance to our country’s foe.”58 The second

lesson he extracted from Gregg’s death was that the mortality of men only proved that the

South must place all its hope in the Lord. Echoing Psalm 124:8, he said, “Who shall lead our

57 Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 78. Earlier in the year, in January 1862,

Palmer published an article in SPR titled “The Art of Conversation.” In it he lamented that conversation had become degraded, leading to the debasing of society. Considering Palmer’s inflamed rhetoric during these years, the irony of his call for elevated conversation almost seems comical. However, what he was really attacking in this essay was Northern Democracy (i.e., mob-society), and indirectly defending refined Southern culture. This particular critique from an unexpected angle was part of a larger denunciation of the North. Benjamin Morgan Palmer, “The Art of Conversation,” Southern Presbyterian Review 14, no. 4 (January 1862): 550–69.

58 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, Address Delivered at the Funeral of General Maxcy Greg in the

Presbyterian Church, Columbia, S.C., December 20, 1862 (Columbia: Southern Guardian Steam-Power Press, 1863), 8.

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forces to the battle, and be strong for us in the day of conflict? ‘Our help is in the name of the

Lord, who made heaven and earth.’”59

Palmer continued the sermon using another figural reading in which he identified Israel with

the South. Drawing a parallel between the current war and Judah’s invasion by Sennacherib,

he stated,

The only parallel which I can discover within the compass of history, is the invasion of Judah by Sennacherib, who boasted to Hezekiah, saying, ‘Let not thy God in whom thou trustest deceive thee.’ To whom God answered, ‘Because thy rage against me is come up into mine ears, therefore I will put my hook in thy nose, and my bridle in thy lips, and will turn thee back by the way by which thou camest.’ What nation, save Judah alone, ever had such trusts committed to its hands? and what nation ever had such cause to spread its hands unto heaven, and to feel that the battle is not theirs, but God’s?60

As it was for Israel, so the salvation of Southern honor would be the vindication of God’s

honor. Palmer had begun to reveal that an important motivator in applying his hermeneutic

was Southern honor.61

While still in South Carolina in February 10, 1863, Palmer wrote a response to General

Butler’s demand that the citizens of captured New Orleans pledge allegiance to the United

States.62 Palmer viewed Butler’s attempt to coerce allegiance as dishonorable. He said that

59 Palmer, Funeral of General Maxcy Gregg, 8. 60 Palmer, Funeral of General Maxcy Gregg, 10. 61 At the end of the sermon, he observed that Gregg was something of an agnostic. “General Gregg, as

you all know, made no profession of religion in life.” Palmer, Funeral of General Maxcy Gregg, 10. However, the fear for Gregg’s soul was lessened by the prayers and tears of the righteous and by Gregg’s apparent request for religious books to read sometime before Fredericksburg. These two things, along with Gregg’s reputation for “perfect truthfulness” gave Palmer confidence that “he stood upon the same ground of hope with them [Christians], in a Saviour’s pardoning love.” Palmer, Funeral of General Maxcy Gregg, 11. The honor of a Southern gentleman was convincing enough proof of the agnostic Gregg’s salvation, in contrast with the states warring against the South, where the Christian, no matter what they may claim of their Christianity, remained “the hypocritical and infidel fanatic of the North.” Palmer, Funeral of General Maxcy Gregg, 10.

62 Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 73. See also Eubank and Dickey, “Southern

Divine,” 425; Sean A. Scott, “‘The Glory of the City is Gone’: Perspectives of Union Soldiers on New Orleans during the Civil War,” Louisiana History: The Journal of the Louisiana Historical Association 57, no. 1 (Winter 2016): 45–69.

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the aim of “the satanic boast of Gen Butler” was to subject a portion of the Confederacy “to

the derision of mankind.”63 Palmer approved of the New Orleans residents who had refused

to take the oath of allegiance to the Union, but denigrated those who compromised

themselves and “submitted to the oath exacted by Gen. Butler as “inconsiderable both as to

number and influence” and “never true to our cause.”64 To reinforce his sense of disgust at

the North and at Southern traitors, Palmer employed the biblical imagery of 2 Kings 8:13:

any honorable person would recoil “with the indignant exclamation of Hazael, ‘What! is thy

servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?’”65 Hazael was a foreigner anointed by

Elisha as king over Syria. Yet, Elisha wept at the prospect, knowing that Hazael would soon

murder and plunder in Israel. Palmer’s use of Scripture here revealed again that his primary

concern was to protect Southern honor. Since Southern victory was what mattered to Palmer

above all else, figuring the South as the murderous Hazael was acceptable since Hazael was

victorious.

3.2.3 The Church as Intellectual Guide for the Political Body By March of 1863 Palmer was in Milledgeville, Georgia. Confederate President Jefferson

Davis, calling for another fast day on March 27, wrote,

Again our enemy . . . threaten us with subjugation, and with evil machinations seek, even in our own homes and at our own firesides, to pervert our men servants and our maid servants into accomplices of their wicked designs. . . .

63 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, The Oath of Allegiance to the United States Discussed in its Moral and

Political Bearings (Richmond: MacFarlane & Fergusson, 1863), 8–9. 64 Palmer, The Oath of Allegiance, 6. 65 Palmer, The Oath of Allegiance, 10. This was the KJV reading. The KJV thus appears to have

Hazael indignantly saying that he is not a dog. Although the context makes it clear that this cannot be what Hazael meant, on its own the verse seems to imply this. The Hebrew literally reads, “What? Is thy servant a dog?”65 There is no negative particle in the rhetorical sentence that would demand an affirmative response. In 2 Kings 8 Elisha tells Hazael that he will be king and bring ruin to Israel (dashing children on rocks and ripping open wombs), to which Hazael responds incredulously, “Am I not but a dog?” Hazael thinks little of himself and his prospects. However, Palmer took the verse out of context to mean the opposite: New Orleans was not a shameful dog that needed to beg at the feet of the Union.

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I do invite the people . . . to join in prayer to Almighty God that He will continue His merciful protection over our cause, that He will scatter our enemies and set at naught their evil designs.66

In honor of the event, Palmer was asked to deliver a sermon before the Georgia legislature,

along with Methodist Bishop George Foster Pierce.

Palmer’s sermon text was Revelation 4:2–3, which reads in part, “there was a rainbow round

about the throne, in sight like unto an Emerald.” In his introduction, Palmer firmly

established his hermeneutic, treating Revelation as a book from which providential history

could be read: “The book of Revelation therefore affords a rude outline of the history of

mankind.”67 Employing his Baconian method for interpreting Scripture, he first aimed to

establish the text as “doctrine, before attempting to infer the support which it brings to our

young and struggling nation.”68

In a passage unique for Palmer during this period, he commented on the death of Christ for

sinful man. But Palmer did not extend this discussion on the vicarious death of Christ. By the

time he made his second point on the next page, he had already passed on to the reign of

Christ, and from there the sermon expands.

Palmer’s objective in detailing the reign of Christ over the world was to claim that since the

South was a Christian nation under the rule of Christ, it could not be swept away in

providential judgment. Palmer further claimed that the South had corrected “the fatal error of

our fathers, in totally ignoring the existence and supremacy of God.”69 Yet, for the South to

66 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, The Rainbow Round the Throne; Or Judgment Tempered With Mercy. A

Discourse before the Legislature of Georgia, Delivered on the Day of Fasting, Humiliation and Prayer Appointed by the President of the Confederate States of America, March 27th, 1863 (Milledgeville, GA: Boughton, Nisbet & Barnes, 1863), 20.

67 Palmer, The Rainbow, 21. 68 Palmer, The Rainbow, 22. Palmer began his formal exposition on providential history by describing

the distinction in the application of grace to angels and men. He went on to say that the work of grace toward mankind displayed more of the divine perfections than the sustaining grace provided to the holy angels. This recalls his 1847 essay, The Relation Between the Work of Christ and the Condition of the Angelic World.

69 Palmer, The Rainbow, 25. Recall his argument from Vindication of Secession and the South.

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be a historic people and not vacate the stage like Assyria, the Church and Government must

to some degree be united. The Church must retain its “guardianship . . . over the state,”

guiding the actions of the political body as “guardian of its honor and its life.”70 He asserted

that no nation which contained “a pure and uncorrupted church” had ever been destroyed by

Providence.71 Thus, driving out the unfaithful North was imperative.

In fact, argued Palmer, trying to hold the Union together would be sinful and against God’s

will. Palmer suggested that the principle of separation had its precedent in the American

Revolution, but then referred to “a far older record than the Declaration of 1776,” which was

the “camera of Noah’s brief prophecy.”72 By “camera” Palmer seemed to have in mind that

Noah’s prophecy was a telescope, from which all human history can be viewed.73 Explaining

how Noah’s prophecy was related to national division, Palmer said, “Let it be observed,

moreover, that the first public and recorded crime of Postdiluvian history was the attempt to

thwart God’s revealed purpose of separation.”74 Palmer was referring to the Tower of Babel

where God was displeased with the unification of humankind. Separation then was obedience

to Providence, because after all, “two nations were in the womb.”75 For Palmer, the Church

ought to guide the nation into war since the South was on the verge of being an historic

nation, fulfilling Noahic prophecy.76 He declared, “The South will not cower beneath the

hardships by which a truly historic people proves itself worthy of a truly historic mission.”77

70 Palmer, The Rainbow, 29. 71 Palmer, The Rainbow, 28, 29. 72 Palmer, The Rainbow, 31. 73 Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 127, 167. 74 Palmer, The Rainbow, 31. Haynes writes, “Scholars have failed to gauge the centrality of Genesis

9–11 in the thought of this Southern clergy intellectual.” Haynes, Noah’s Curse, 125. While we regard this opinion to be mostly true, our evidence shows that the complexity of Palmer’s vision should not be restricted to Genesis 9–11. That was only a single piece in the larger conceptual world of Palmer.

75 Palmer, The Rainbow, 33. Recall his argument from both Vindication of Secession and the South

and National Responsibility Before God. 76 Compare Palmer’s essay Our Historic Mission. 77 Palmer, The Rainbow, 32.

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Insisting on the need to continue the ongoing war, Palmer said that North and South were

“separated, most of all, henceforth and forever by the decree of God,” and the dream of

national unification ought to be dissipated “as the mountain mist is dissolved before the

morning sun.”78 For Palmer, history and Providence were clear: the South would ascend,

leaving the corruption of the Union behind. As he drew the sermon to a close, he explained

why God cannot allow the South to be defeated. First, it would result in the Southern people

being banished from their holy land to “wander in poverty over the earth.”79 But just as

importantly, harming the South would put the future of African Americans in jeopardy. He

stated,

Under our patriarchal system, the descendants of Ham have thriven in the midst of us, expanding in a couple of centuries from a few thousands to four millions. Their destiny is involved in ours. . . . what have these poor sheep done, that these butchers should drive them to the slaughter? . . . I confess to you that if this be the fate of the African, I am at a lost to understand the meaning of that Providence which brought him to our shores.80

Moreover, due to everything involved in the contest, the cause of the South was the cause of

God. Said Palmer, “Finally, our cause is pre-eminently the cause of God Himself, and every

blow struck by us is in defense of His supremacy.”81

In December of 1863 he delivered a sermon before the Assembly of South Carolina. 1863

had been a hard year for the South, and Palmer believed that the State needed direction from

the Church. The Emancipation Proclamation had been announced in January. Stonewall

Jackson had been killed in May. Grant’s siege of Vicksburg began in May; he took the city in

July. Lee’s army was driven out of the North after the Battle of Gettysburg in July. The

78 Palmer, The Rainbow, 35. 79 Palmer, The Rainbow, 37. Palmer here also referred again to the South as a nation preparing “itself

for martyrdom.” Compare his comments in the Address Delivered at the Funeral of General Maxcy Gregg. 80 Palmer, The Rainbow, 38. 81 Palmer, The Rainbow, 39. This thought ties in with the title of the sermon. Despite the hardship of

war, it is God’s discipline of his chosen people. As the rainbow is a sign of God’s mercy despite the judgement of the flood, so the South is assured mercy despite the pain of war.

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Confederates could claim victory at Chickamauga in September, but at the cost of more than

18,000 casualties (some 2,300 killed).

Taking his cue from Psalm 60, Palmer saw the events falling on the South as judgments from

God. Yet, these judgments were not meant to cause a course correction, but only to harden

Southern resolve. He quoted from Schlegel’s Philosophy of History, saying, “In the whole

circumference of the globe there is only a certain number of nations that occupy an important

and really historic place in the annals of civilization.” 82 Thus, the South was not merely

fighting for itself. It was fighting to preserve the original intention of America, and even

more, it was fighting to secure its spot among the noteworthy nations of world history.

Palmer used the same quote from Schlegel in Our Historic Mission.83 The quote had moved

from a philosophical idea in 1858 to a rallying-cry demanding military action in 1863.

Palmer did not drop the point. A few pages later he said, “The Northern people, from the

commencement of American history, have failed to seize the true idea of a republic.”84 In the

North, democracy, which to Palmer amounted to mob rule, had begun to prevail, and had

pushed the American ideal “to the verge of ungodliness and atheism.”85 However, in the

South, a proper social structure remained in place because of their adherence to the supposed

scriptural norms for relations between races. Palmer said, “The dominant race, by the force

of its position towards an inferior and servile class, is rendered conservative in the highest

degree.”86 It followed for Palmer that a proper understanding of history and Scripture would

ensure that the slave not be freed, and that what was beneficial to the white race would also

82 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, A Discourse Before the General Assembly of South Carolina on

December 10, 1863, Appointed by the Legislature as a Day of Fasting, Humiliation, and Prayer (Columbia, SC: Charles P. Pelham, 1864), 7.

83 These same thoughts are evident in Our Historic Mission (1858), The Thanksgiving Day Sermon

(1860), and The Rainbow Round the Throne (1863).

84 Palmer, A Discourse, 10.

85 Palmer, A Discourse, 10. 86 Palmer, A Discourse, 11.

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be beneficial to African Americans. Said Palmer, “The form most beneficial to the negro

himself is precisely that which obtains with us.”87

Palmer then used Genesis 9 to push back against abolitionism, saying that the “original

distribution of destinies to the sons of Noah, must continue, despite the ravings of a spurious

and sentimental philanthropy.”88 While Palmer contemplated the remote possibility of a

future freedom for the slaves, he also said that this would be a matter for Providence to make

clear (not an army from the North): “If the day shall ever arrive when the slave ought to be

free, God will sufficiently indicate it by evincing his aptitude for a new and independent

career. . . . But we do protest against the impertinent obtrusion of men into the counsels of

Almighty God.”89 That it would be extremely difficult for enslaved African Americans to

progress “historically” as a race while under conditions of slavery did not seem to trouble

Palmer. What was important for him was that it was inappropriate for Northern abolitionists

to force the hand of God. 90

Palmer continued pressing his idea of a global history guided by white Southerners by

highlighting the need to care for the slave, who could not survive in a sea of free labor.

Palmer said, “Can he [the black man] thrive as the slave of capital, which has no bowels of

mercy?” If the South had committed any sin to come under judgement from heaven, surely it

87 Palmer, A Discourse, 13. 88 Palmer, A Discourse, 14. 89 Palmer, A Discourse, 15. In chapter five we examine the obvious conclusion of Stanton, that the

army of the North should have been interpreted as the providential hand working out in history. 90 Palmer consistently viewed abolitionism as associated with rejection of divine sovereignty, and with

the worst possible results. Due to abolitionism, the Bible’s “dogmatic authority was overthrown . . . and society dissolves in universal anarchy and chaos.” Palmer, A Discourse, 18, 19. See also Snay, Gospel of Disunion: “To Southern clerics, the religious argument against slavery drifted dangerously close to infidelity”(59). Southern preachers believed that abolitionists had made conscience and philanthropic sentiment the guiding rule, thereby overthrowing biblical authority. Episcopal Bishop Stephen Elliott declared abolitionists to be “‘infidels—men who are clamoring for a new God, and a new Christ, and a new Bible.’” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 63. When Elliot rejected a “new Christ and a new Bible” he was rejecting the idea that all people are truly equal, fearful of the chaos that would emerge if racial hierarchy was dismantled. See also Goen, “Broken Churches, Broken Nation,” 31–32; Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 34–35. For Thomas Smyth, the North had committed “treasonable rebellion.” Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 51; Daniel, "Southern Presbyterians in the Confederacy,” 235.

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was not the enslavement of African Americans, “this poor feeble race,” to which the South

stood as divinely appointed protectors.91 In fact, Palmer was convinced that God would save

the white race for the sake of African Americans: “With his [the African’s] fate bound up so

entirely with our own, I believe that for his sake at least we shall be preserved.”92 He then

reassured his audience that any killing was not only for the sake of the South, but for the sake

of God’s honor. He said, “We strike not only for country and for home . . . we strike for the

prerogatives of God, and for His kingly supremacy over the earth.”93 As Palmer drew his

sermon to a close, he employed eucharistic language when speaking of the Confederate dead,

who had become martyrs and sacrifices, saying, “Beside that altar you have now summoned

the priest to stand, and with the holy offices of religion to sanctify the oblation.”94 Prior to

and throughout the war, we see one thing driving Palmer’s scriptural readings and political

comments: Southern honor, which must be defended at all costs for the good of the South,

the slave, and the world. Palmer was able to craft such a compelling rhetoric on the back of

his figural reading of the Old Testament, which saw the South (Japheth) as rightful heir to

God’s blessing.

3.3 The Post-War Years: Crafting a Southern Identity

In the years after the war Palmer attempted to craft a Southern identity after the South was

reincorporated into the Union. Palmer did this by insisting on psychological, social, and

ecclesial division, and by adapting the application of his hermeneutic to the changed political

landscape.

91 Palmer, A Discourse, 16. 92 Palmer, A Discourse, 17. 93 Palmer, A Discourse, 21. 94 Palmer, A Discourse, 23.

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3.3.1 Ecclesial Division and the Formation of Southern Identity Johnson, in his biography on Palmer, spends over 225 pages detailing the post-war years

from 1865–1888, referring to these as the height of Palmer’s power and influence. Johnson

also reports on the national appeal of Palmer as a preacher. For example, in 1866, Palmer

preached in a church in Brooklyn. Palmer was not introduced by name, and thus many did

not know who the preacher was. Johnson writes, “An old veteran of the Northern army

inquired who the wonderful preacher was. He finally learned that he was the Rev. B. M.

Palmer, of New Orleans, La. ‘The arch rebel of that name!’ he exclaimed. ‘He preaches like

an archangel!’”95 Presbyterian Rev. Henry J. Van Dyke of Brooklyn, said of Palmer and

Thornwell, “Whatever I may think of secession . . . in my heart I do not blame them. My soul

is knit to such men with the sympathy of Jonathan for David.”96

However, after the war, Palmer’s aim was not merely to return to preaching, but to maintain

deep lines of division with the North, which enabled the maintenance of a separate Southern

identity.97 To see how Palmer did this, we will begin by examining Palmer’s understanding

of the church as a spiritual kingdom. While this would appear to be an apolitical move, there

is sufficient reason to believe that he persisted in calling the church a spiritual kingdom

because he did not want the Northern civil authorities or the Northern Presbyterian Church to

interfere with the Southern way of life.98 As a member of the Southern Presbyterian General

Assembly of 1866, Palmer drafted a report outlining the position of the Southern church,

95 Johnson, Palmer, 295. Unsurprisingly, the News and Courier of South Carolina thought likewise.

They wrote, “Dr. Palmer, is, probably, the ablest pulpit orator in the Southern States, and can have but few if any superiors in the North.” Johnson, Palmer, 296.

96 Henry J. Van Dyke, The Character and Influence of Abolitionism: A Sermon Preached in the First

Presbyterian Church, Brooklyn, on Sabbath Evening, December 9th, 1860. (New York: D. Appleton & Co,, 1860), 21.

97 See Jack P. Maddex, “From Theocracy to Spirituality: The Southern Presbyterian Reversal on

Church and State,” Journal of Presbyterian History 54, no. 4 (Winter 1976): 438–457; J. Treadwell Davis, “Obstacles to Reunion of the Presbyterian Church, 1868–1888,” The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 63, no. 1 (January 1955): 28–39. Davis also provides a helpful short history of relations between Northern and Southern Presbyterians from 1861–1865. Davis, “Obstacles to Reunion,” 29.

98 See the minutes of the 1847 General Assembly in Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 2 (September

1847): 102. This was supposed to go both ways. The church was not to interfere with the state since the church was a spiritual body. Likewise, the state had no right to interfere with the church.

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affirming “the non-secular and non-political character of the Church of Jesus Christ.”99 The

point of Palmer’s report was to negate any opinion from the Northern church on how the

South ought to organize its society, because he claimed that the Southern church was only

concerned with “the gospel.”

In 1869, the Northern branches of the Presbyterian Old School and New School had begun to

reunify. Following this, the newly united Northern Presbyterian Church began making

overtures to the Southern church for full national union. Representatives from the North

attended the 1870 General Assembly in Louisville and made a formal appeal to the South.

This appeal was handled by the Southern church’s Committee on Foreign Correspondence,

which Palmer chaired. Palmer rejected the offer. In Palmer’s opinion, the North’s decision to

unify New and Old Schools was a foolish one that corrupted the truth. Palmer stated, “We

believe it to be solemnly incumbent upon the Northern Presbyterian Church . . . to purge

itself of this error.”100 He continued by claiming that now only the South represented a pure

church with pure teaching. He wrote, “The Southern Presbyterian Church, which has already

suffered much in maintaining the independence and spirituality of the Redeemer’s kingdom. .

. . of [his] falling testimonies we are now the sole surviving heir.”101 For Palmer, the socially

meddlesome New School Presbyterians were a large source of the South’s problems.

Included in the same document was a resolution calling for the North to retract the war-time

accusations of rebellion against the Southern Presbyterian Church. Not only did Palmer not

find the Southern Presbyterian Church guilty of anything warranting apology, but he insisted

that the Southern church alone had maintained its orthodoxy. Johnson gave an indication of

99 Johnson, Palmer, 315. However, the Southern Presbyterians had a long history of justifying schism.

Snay writes that the schism of 1837 “presented a model of division that valued purity over unity, a precedent that would shape the thinking of Southern clergymen during the secession crisis.” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 126. Goen writes similarly: he says that the South “thought it more important to preserve slavery than to maintain unity.” Goen, “Broken Churches, Broken Nation,” 24. We are also suggesting that the precedent extended well past the war years. As early as 1864, the General Assembly of the South was using Palmer’s language to describe its position. See Davis, “Obstacles to Reunion,” 29–30.

100 Johnson, Palmer, 319. 101 Johnson, Palmer, 319.

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the document’s appeal and Palmer’s popularity: “These resolutions were adopted by the

Assembly, by a vote of eighty-three to seventeen.”102

After this, the Committee of Foreign Correspondence was tasked with writing a letter to all

the congregations under the care of the Southern Presbyterian Church to explain the

resolutions they had adopted. Palmer prepared and presented the letter to the Assembly,

which was also accepted. Wrote Palmer,

The overture from the Northern Assembly was based upon the fatal assumption that mutual grievances existed, in reference to which it became necessary to arbitrate. This assumption is precisely what we cannot truthfully concede. Our records may be searched in vain for a single act of aggression, or a single unfriendly declaration against the Northern Church. We have assumed no attitude of hostility toward it. . . . Having placed nothing in the way of Christian fraternity, there was nothing for us to remove.103

The North’s need to reconcile implied that there was a sin demanding reconciliation. If there

was, Palmer denied that any such sin was to be found in the Southern church.104 In fact,

Palmer believed that the Northern Presbyterians were guilty of “an unlawful complicity with

the State,”105 exemplified in the Gardiner Spring Resolutions of May 1861 which demanded

that all Presbyterians swear loyalty to the Union.106

In August 1869, Palmer began a series of seventeen articles on the “Reunion Overture of the

Northern General Assembly to the Southern Presbyterian Church” in the Southwestern

Presbyterian.107 Despite his obstinance in regard to the North’s appeal, he began to make

subtle theological revisions. In the first article, he referred to the accusations from the

Northern church as not touching “one of the doctrines of grace, but . . . based upon subjects

102 Johnson, Palmer, 320. 103 Johnson, Palmer, 322. 104 See Davis, “Obstacles to Reunion,” 30. 105 Johnson, Palmer, 330. 106 See Daniel, "Southern Presbyterians in the Confederacy,” 251. 107 Johnson, Palmer, 328.

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on which human opinion has, through all ages, been the most divided, and lying exclusively

with the sphere of the State.”108 By this he meant slavery, which for Palmer was a societal

relationship that the South had a right to arrange for itself. However, this marks a significant

change in Palmer’s views, as he had never suggested before this that slavery was a human

opinion. It also marks the beginning of Palmer’s theological adaptions to the changed

Southern landscape. But the end of the war did not change Palmer’s prior figural

hermeneutical commitment to a belief that the South is superior to the North and, as we will

see, that the South ought not to be contaminated by free African Americans (who are still

under the curse of Ham).

Palmer maintained his recalcitrance toward the Northern Church throughout the remainder of

his life. When the Southern Presbyterian Assembly met in Atlanta in 1883 and “official

correspondence” with the North was approved, Palmer vigorously disagreed.109 By the time

of the Assembly of 1887, the mood of the Southern Church had begun to shift away from

Palmer. When measures were voted on by that body to approve of closer relations with the

Northern Church, Palmer found himself in the minority.110 Palmer then chaired an ad hoc

minority committee and prepared a letter addressing the Southern Presbyterian Church at

large. In it he rehearsed arguments concerning the unbridgeable differences between the

North and South, especially the “race problem,” which was “an insuperable barrier to union

with the Northern Church.”111 He then drew on Genesis 11 and the division at Babel to prove

his point. Palmer wrote, “We find these groups distinguished by certain physical

characteristics.”112 Palmer, in a somewhat tempered moment, restrained himself slightly and

acknowledged that there was not necessarily a biblical warrant to connect skin color with any

108 Johnson, Palmer, 333. 109 Johnson, Palmer, 439. 110 Johnson, Palmer, 459. 111 Johnson, Palmer, 472.


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particular group of people at the time of the confusion of languages.113 However, since

history and Scripture had recorded a division between races, “the inference is justified which

regards it as fixed by the hand of Jehovah himself.”114 Here Palmer moved away from his

typical interpretation of the curse of Ham in Genesis 9 and began arguing on the basis of the

division of people at the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11; this allowed him to adapt his

theological presuppositions to the changed racial landscape of the South. He could no longer

argue for slavery, but by using Genesis 11, he could argue for separation.

Although, some in the Southern Church started to warm to the idea of a national Presbyterian

union, Palmer had done enough to ensure that even as late as 1888 “all attempts at reunion . .

. failed.”115 In fact, it wasn’t until 1954 that the Presbyterian Church finally united.116 As for

Genesis 11, this was not a change in method or proof texting. Palmer recognized that the

political and social landscape had altered. That is, Ham was seemingly not enslaved any

longer in the house of Japheth, although the curse of Ham and the blessing of Japheth still

abided. He also continued to believe that the providential history of races and people groups

could be scientifically traced in the primordial history of Genesis. Thus, Palmer’s attempt at

scripturally navigating the national changes was to figurally employ Genesis 11 to argue for

segregation while maintaining his prior racist commitments based on Genesis 9.

3.3.2 Racial Division and the Formation of Southern Identity While it might seem that the years leading up to and during the war were most formative for

Southern identity, the years after the war were perhaps more important. As James Silver has

said, “Real unity in the South came only after Appomattox and after Reconstruction, too.”117

113 Note, however, that he did not mention or deny a connection between the Noahic curse, Ham, and

African Americans. 114 Johnson, Palmer, 472. 115 Davis, “Obstacles to Reunion,” 39. 116 Davis, “Obstacles to Reunion,” 28. 117 Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 7.

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Palmer sensed this, which helps us understand his unending fight against the Northern

Presbyterian church and African Americans in the South. Palmer’s most significant attempt

to fashion a post-war Southern identity began with an address on June 27, 1872 titled, “The

Present Crisis and its Issues.”118 Palmer was invited to deliver an address before the literary

societies of Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia, in the Shenandoah

Valley (Robert E. Lee had served as president of the university until his death in 1870, at

which time the institution took up his name).

While Palmer attempted to craft a Southern post-war identity, he continued to make subtle

but important theological shifts. In his 1872 address he began, “History breaks itself into

Epochs which constitute its natural boundaries, just as rivers and mountains define the limits

of countries upon our globe.”119 In 1858, “nations” had the potential to be “historic.” But in

1872 Palmer said that the forces at work were the “epochs” and “the great events which form

the vertebrae of History.”120 This shift from “nations” to “events” allowed Palmer to

maintain his concept of Southern superiority. In 1872, lacking a Confederate nation, Palmer

lodged the potential for the South to be historically important within the culture and among

the people of the white South. If Palmer had insisted on his former terminology, then the

South would have fallen out of historical importance in the world, since it was no longer a

nation.

Palmer went on in his speech to explain that the South, once again part of the United States,

was faced with a new “epoch” in which not everything from the past ought to continue

forward, including slavery.121 Again, this was a notable change from his statements in 1860,

118 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, The Present Crisis and Its Issues: An Address Delivered before the

Literary Societies of Washington and Lee University, Lexington, Va., 27th June, 1872. (Baltimore: John Murphy & Co., 1872).

119 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 5. 120 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 5. 121 He went on to dramatize the transition of one epoch to another: “The navigation is always

dangerous though the narrow straits which connect two open seas. And the grave question arises, how a people, brought to the end of a given Cycle, may safely tide over the bar, and find the deeper sea-room lying beyond.” Palmer, The Present Crisis, 8.

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when he had described slavery as a “providential trust” demanding perpetuation and

expansion. Palmer sought a way to embrace the South’s defeat and yet maintain all his earlier

principles, which he thought could “never be surrendered.”122 For Palmer, this allowed the

South to suffer change and yet remain what it always was. The burden of the South now

would be to preserve “with a distinct consciousness, its own identity.”123 Primarily this

involved “the problem of race.”124

Palmer here articulated one of the earliest and clearest post-war visions for segregation. He

again based his perspective on Scripture, Providence, and history. Palmer said that the

interaction of the races was a matter for Providence to decide, not a matter for legislation by

state or church. According to Palmer, Providence needed time to work itself out. Thus, any

timetable for racial integration was indefinitely put on hold. Palmer then suggested that

history gave no reason to think that integration should ever happen; he asserted that “so far as

I can understand the teachings of History, there is one underlying principle which must

control the question. It is indispensable that the purity of race shall be preserved on either

side.”125 He then founded the idea of perpetual segregation upon Scripture: “The argument

for this I base upon the declared policy of the Divine Administration from the days of Noah

until now.”126 Palmer here continued making his shift away from Genesis 9 and toward

Genesis 11, explaining that “God saw fit to break the human family into sections. He

separated them by destroying the unity of speech.”127 Palmer then addressed the fictional

African Americans in the audience, saying, “If you are to be a historic people, you must

work out your own destiny upon your own foundation. You gain nothing by a parasitic

122 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 9. 123 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 11. 124 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 18.

125 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 18. 126 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 18. 127 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 19. Palmer also noted that there were physical differences between the

races (although he does not cite Genesis 9 as support). He reaffirmed the “unity of human origin” as he had in Our Historic Mission of 1858. Yet, he warned that this was no argument for an “infidel Humanitarianism” that should force the races together. Palmer, The Present Crisis, 19.

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clinging to the white race. . . . If you have no power of development from within, you lack

the first quality of a historic race, and must, sooner or later, go to the wall.”128 Palmer

specified what this segregation should look like by stating that former slaves needed to

“stand apart in their own social grade, in their own schools, in their own ecclesiastical

organizations, under their own teachers and guides.”129

Palmer then began to reflect upon the other great fear in the South’s transitional crisis:

Northern capitalism, or in Palmer’s words, the “selfish Utilitarianism which measures all

things only by a material standard” that “is the Angel of Pestilence dropping the seeds of

death from its black wing wherever it sweeps.”130 With the abolition of slavery, he foresaw

the clawing of capital and labor, each fighting for its own, larger portion of wealth. The

utilitarianism of capitalism was “sapping the truthfulness, the honesty and honor of private

life, and silently destroying the moral bonds by which society is held together.”131 As

capitalism “lends its aid to both increase and to sanctify this gross materialism,” it destroys

morality.132 Therefore, if the nation was to be saved, it would happen through the purity of

the Southern white race. Palmer concluded his speech with these dramatic words:

I charge you, if this great Republic like a gallant ship must drive upon the breakers, that you be upon the deck, and with suspended breath await the shock. Perchance she will survive it; but if she sink beneath the destiny which has devoured other great kingdoms of the past, that you save from the melancholy wreck our Ancestral Faiths, and work out yet upon this continent the problem of a free, constitutional, and popular government. And may the God of destinies give you a good issue!133

Palmer did not have much hope in the Union, but he had perpetual hope in the South, which

would re-emerge even if the nation it inhabited destroyed itself. The South must “await the

128 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 20. 129 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 20. 130 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 22. 131 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 23. 132 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 26. 133 Palmer, The Present Crisis, 28.

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shock” and hold the “Ancestral Faiths” of republican government. Palmer was advising

strategic shifts to guide the South into a new era while holding to the same pre-war

principles.

Palmer’s opposition to the North and to integration with African Americans continued for the

remainder of his life. An article published in the Presbyterian Quarterly in 1898 titled “The

Ancient Hebrew Polity” saw him again using the Old Testament to press his political agenda.

His aim was to explain “the political significance of the ancient Hebrew Commonwealth.”134

Using Genesis 11 again, he suggested that no people had ever held as close to the biblical

pattern of obeying God’s command to separate than white Europeans, especially in the

American South.135 If the American system wished to remain in accord with the biblical

pattern of government, the autonomy of the States must be preserved.136 He then presented

the form of ancient Israelite government as a rebuke to “the boastful Political Science of

modern times,” where federal power continued to increase.137 Not only did he view the

Union as a perversion of government since it was rejecting the Hebrew model, but it was

also, by extension, a “corruption of religion.”138 Sorting out whether this was a figural

application of the Scriptures or an attempt to biblically justify a socio-political argument is

tricky. In this case, the latter seems more likely. However, Palmer himself would not have

been likely to make the distinction. To him, he was operating under the same principles as in

134 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, “The Ancient Hebrew Polity,” The Presbyterian Quarterly 12, no. 2

(April 1898): 153. 135 These thoughts were shared by others. See Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 154. 136 Palmer, “The Ancient Hebrew Polity,” 161. 137 Palmer, “The Ancient Hebrew Polity,” 169. 138 Palmer, “The Ancient Hebrew Polity,”169. Palmer may have been engaging a wider conversation

about the importance of the Old Testament for statecraft. Others had also looked to the Old Testament thinking that it provided God’s approved method for political organization. See Eric Nelson, The Hebrew Republic: Jewish Sources and the Transformation of European Political Thought (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2011). Interestingly, Palmer had not thoroughly utilized this line of thinking in the past but did so only after the fall of the Southern state. His thinking demanded a sort of rogue-state within the Union. Adhering to these supposedly biblical principles also demanded, for Palmer, continuing hostility toward the North and any integration with African Americans. As Fox-Genovese and Genovese explained, “For the southern slaveholders any social order worthy of the name, and therefore its appropriate social relations, had to be grounded in divine sanction.” Fox-Genovese and Genovese, “The Divine Sanction of Social Order,” 211,

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years past: the South as blessed Japheth, ancestor of independent Israel. To treat the South as

anything different was not merely a political problem, but a “corruption of religion.”

The last major statement by Palmer before his death cemented his post-war vision for the

South. What has been called Palmer’s “Century Sermon,” delivered on January 1, 1901, was

in many ways a capstone of his thought. Reilly writes, “By the close of the nineteenth

century, Palmer had thus become an avowed nationalist and world interventionist.”139 In this

last prominent sermon, Palmer displayed himself as one of the foremost statesmen for the so-

called “Lost Cause.”140

The “Century Sermon” showed Palmer confidently holding all his various theological

threads in one hand, bringing together especially his understanding of how the South should

relate itself to other races and to the wider world. He, of course, used Genesis 9–11 to secure

these ideas.141 He suggested that the South continued to hold a providential trust, but made

another important strategic shift by more closely identifying the South with Shem

(traditionally, Israel) and not Japheth (as he had done in the past).

Near the beginning of his sermon he referred to the blessing of Shem and the cursing of

Canaan as “this remarkably prophetic outline of all human history.” He then stated that the

South, formerly Japheth, had a right to the blessing of Shem, saying, “we who are gathered

here in this assemblage on the first day of the century, are dwelling to-day in the tents of

Shem.”142 As the broken house of Israel (Shem) was nonetheless part of God’s providential

plan, so this was also true of the broken house of the South (dwelling in the tents of Shem).

139 Reilly, “Secessionist Become Nationalist,” 298. 140 The phrase “The Lost Cause” originated in 1866 with Edward Pollard’s book, The Lost Cause: A

New Southern History of the War of the Confederates (New York: E. B. Treat & Co., 1866). The United Daughters of the Confederacy, a widespread and active group promoting Lost Cause ideology, was founded in 1894.

141 See Stephen R. Haynes, “Race, National Destiny, and the Sons of Noah in the Thought of Benjamin

M. Palmer,” The Journal of Presbyterian History 78, no. 2 (Summer 2000): 125–43. 142 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, The Address of Rev. B. M. Palmer delivered on the First Day of the New

Year and Century (New Orleans: The Brotherhood of the First Presbyterian Church, 1901), 2 [hereafter cited as Palmer’s Century Sermon].

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Just as the Jews are not a political power and yet still historically important, so also Palmer

believed the South to be. Palmer’s need to defend Southern honor caused him to advocate for

slavery and violence prior to the war, and after it caused him to advocate for segregation

between races and division from Northern ideology.143

Palmer continued to press the idea of how important the white race was for the history of the

world. He revelled in his aggressive vision of Western Civilization:

A haughty and aggressive civilization, such as ours, . . . that has learned through science nature’s most secret powers, brings forth hitherto unknown agencies, no more to be the toy of the chemist in the laboratory or the philosopher in his study and in his library, but to be harnessed to all the practical duties of common life. . . . Here, then is an aggressive civilization; our European and American civilization.144

To Palmer, progress was the sign of providential favor, and no people had accomplished

more scientific progress than white Europeans. The white race ought not to doubt itself,

becoming chained by humanitarianism and democracy, for history provided confirmation

that the white race had conducted itself as God intended.145 Such an understanding of history

143 To understand how important to history Palmer judged the white race to be, we can observe his

comments on other races. For example, Native Americans did not forward history, and so their removal and extinction was justified. He proclaimed,

Nothing was heard in all those vast primeval forests . . . save the savage war cries of these naked and painted Indian tribes. . . . What do we see today? The Indian practically extinct. . . . Instead of the war-whoop of the Indian, we hear the chimes of the Sabbath bells. . . . The Indian has been swept from the earth, and a great Christian nation, over 75,000,000 strong, rises up. Palmer, Century Sermon, 10, 11.

Since the Bible, for Palmer, taught a historical progress where humanity was marching toward the coming kingdom, the elimination of Native American people was biblically justified. Palmer then addressed China, saying that it was a good sign that Europe was “holding China by the throat” (by dictating terms of trade). Palmer, The Address, 11. Europe was right to make “deals as to how they shall carve out the world and make it theirs.” Palmer, The Address, 11. Palmer also opined that the might of the English Empire was due to her religion, which encouraged her to conquer. Since non-European peoples were not Christian, they were destined to be swept off the stage or become the tools of the white race. Palmer did not hesitate to say of Africa that it was home of “the darkest and most cruel heathenism of the world.” Palmer, Century Sermon, 12. He implied that the greatest progress that an African American ever made was to be a slave. Slavery brought them closer to the Kingdom of God than they could ever have hoped in their “heathenism.”

144 Palmer, Century Sermon, 14, 15. 145 Palmer took a seemingly odd turn in praising the German people. He described their language as

“flexible and yet copious” and the people as “virtuous and vigorous.” It was this Germanic people who conquered lethargic Rome and it was from Germany that the West emerged from the Middle Ages, that “long period of historic and political chaos, during which, in a measure, as in the original creation, the historic earth

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allowed Palmer to place the South, even though politically hamstrung, in a stream of events

that he identified as historically vital to the progress of humanity, and allowed him to dismiss

every other nation and people group. It was a vision that lifted a distinct Southern identity

out of the Union and placed it on a mythic stage.

Looking back over Palmer’s earlier thinking, we can see the seeds sown for his later

conclusions. His ethnic-historical figuralism was intentionally designed to divide. Thus, in

his later years it is not all too surprising to see him articulating increasingly offensive ideas

about any non-European people group or even about the white North. In his hermeneutical

system there was never a significant conceptual element or figure aiming toward

reconciliation.

3.4 Summary

Palmer passed away on May 28, 1902 after being struck by a streetcar as he attempted to

board. Ironically, he was killed by the very scientific mastery over nature that he had long

heralded. As a further irony, African American workmen carried him home.146 Yet, no matter

how his world continued to be overturned, he never failed to believe that Providence was

working in his theological favor.147 He also continued to be beloved in the South. It was said

that “the minister’s funeral was one of the largest ceremonies in New Orleans’ history.”148

was without form and void.” Palmer, Century Sermon, 9. Thus, it was Germany (Protestantism) that defeated Rome (Catholicism) and it was Germany that brought the world out of the void of the Middle Ages. The Germanic white people during the Reformation began a “new era in the history of the race.” Palmer, Century Sermon, 9.

146 Johnson, Palmer, 620–21. 147 Noll, The Civil War, 75, has characterized the post-war South as encountering a “profound

theological crisis” over the ways of Providence. Yet, if there was a theological crisis over Providence, Palmer never acknowledged it.

148 Reilly, “Secessionist Become Nationalist,” 301

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Palmer had everything at his disposal that could have allowed for an irenic and politically

self-critical reading and application of Scripture. From the vantage of twentieth century

North American Christianity, as well as perhaps from some Christians in the early Church,

an observer must wonder at the kind of scriptural reading that impelled Palmer’s support for

slavery, war, and the denigration of human peoples. Even in his own era, many Christians

understood that the Church was called to an ever-widening ministry of reconciliation. The

chasm between Palmer’s social-religious claims and the scriptural picture of Jesus seems

inexplicable.

First, Palmer’s Baconian methodology was problematic. He rejected figuralism, aiming for

something more scientific and literal. Yet, since he never gave adequate thought to how to

apply a figural approach, he employed figuralism in a manner geared to serve his ideology

and promote division over reconciliation by extracting unfounded theories from Genesis 9

and 11. Also, without a figuralism oriented toward a Christological center, Palmer gave

himself license to make the South into anything he needed it to be to fit his figural

interpretation (Eve, Japheth, Israel, Sampson, Hazael, etc.).

Two elements of Palmer’s reading of Scripture were clearly involved in his racialist outlook.

First, his figural approach was designed to justify slavery and war. Figuralism remained a

tool which he abused. Second, for all his emphasis on the South’s ability alone to uphold the

authority of the Bible, Palmer himself eroded biblical authority since he would not allow the

Bible to be read as a common authority throughout the whole nation (as Noll termed it:

“incompatible interpretations of a commonly honored Bible”149). This only strengthened the

tendency in America to read the Bible as an authority according to each individuals’

understanding of it.150

149 Noll, The Civil War, 74. 150 While Southern intellectuals claimed to be heirs of the Reformation, “unlike the Reformers they

interpreted [the Scriptures] less according to the norms of classical Christianity than through the presumed competence of private reason and individual experience,” Goen, “Broken Churches, Broken Nation,” 27; see also Noll, The Civil War, 34.

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Important as these two elements were, I would suggest two further problems that underlay

Palmer’s attitudes corresponding to violence and racism. First, regarding violence, we

observe that his emphasis was consistently and exclusively on doctrine rather than the person

of Christ.151 It was implied that, for all practical purposes, it was not the person of Christ who

saved. Rather, what saved was “truth,” which the South possessed. Palmer staked so much on

the Southern way of life that he came to believe, in a sense, in a fully realized eschatology.

The South and God’s kingdom became blurred together. Thus, Southern soil and Southern

honor had to be defended—violently, if necessary. Palmer became like Peter, rebuking Jesus

for going to the cross, and cutting off the guard’s ear, and he could not hear the word from

the Lord to get behind him and take up his cross. Palmer was not an exile waiting for a

homeland. He lived in the New Eden and he was not going to let it be defiled. Therefore, he

could not abide any slight or injury against Southern honor. Any offense had to be met with a

corresponding show of force. For Palmer, as we saw in his “Thanksgiving Sermon,” the law

of self-preservation asserted itself above all others.

Second, it is rare to find Palmer interacting with the person of Christ as he read Scripture. In

particular, we never see him struggling with the possible implications of the bodily suffering

of Jesus. Palmer spoke of a Christ who was locked away in a spiritual kingdom of help to the

soul’s salvation, but not of much use for the body. This kept Christ sealed off from the

physical world of mankind (a world that Christ intentionally chose to inhabit in his

incarnation), and yet, other portions of the Bible were regularly allowed to intrude into

human affairs. Startlingly, this implies that at the moment of greatest crisis in the nation,

Jesus was of no use to Palmer. Palmer’s inability to integrate the physical body of Jesus into

his thinking also allowed him to form opinions according to which the bodies of non-white

Europeans could be denigrated, where war could be justified, and where recalcitrant

separation could be demanded in the church.

Similarly, in Palmer’s emphasis on the South’s recapitulation of Israel, he never paused to

consider that the division of Israel into North and South had been a tragedy. Nor did it give

151 This is true for his pastoral sermons and essays as well as will be seen in chapter 6.

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him pause that many prophecies in the Old Testament envisioned Israel reborn as one whole

nation, which Paul also took up in terms of God in Christ forming one new man who has

overcome the divisions between Jew and Greek. Since he did not center his reading of the

Scriptures, in particular of the Old Testament, around Christ, he had no way of reining in his

inconsistencies, which instead were always oriented toward defending Southern honor. In

thus assessing Palmer’s hermeneutic we are attempting to observe what he did (an ethnic-

historical figuralism designed to serve the Southern cause) and also what he omitted (any

interaction with the physical body of Jesus). While I am not speculating about what might

have happened if he had read the text differently, I am suggesting that the omission

especially deserves to be noted.

For decades, Palmer had prophetically warned of the North’s tendency toward the erosion of

authority and the dehumanization of the individual. However, he undercut the impact of his

own perceptive criticisms.152 If Palmer had heard of the challenges to traditional biblical

authority by Charles Augustus Briggs at Union Theological Seminary in 1891 and his

subsequent conviction of heresy by the Northern Presbyterian Church in 1893, he would not

have been surprised.153 Palmer was correct to fear what the worst of industrial capitalism

could do to individuals. If Palmer had read the work of Jacob A. Riis, How the Other Half

Lives (1890), describing the astonishingly deplorable conditions of factory workers on New

York City’s Lower East Side—a book which so profoundly influenced Theodore

Roosevelt—it would not have caught him off guard.154 Palmer could never succeed in

properly upholding the nobility of man if he insisted on defining it exclusively along racial

terms.155 Likewise, Palmer’s valid calls for caution over the loss of biblical authority and the

potential damage of capitalism were blunted by his own profound contradictions.156

152 Noll observes that some of the southern criticisms directed at the North were deserving of a wider

conversation, yet the South hamstrung itself by tying everything to slavery. Noll, The Civil War, 74. 153 Michael L. Kamen, “The Science of the Bible in Nineteenth-Century America: From ‘Common

Sense’ to Controversy, 1820–1900” (PhD diss., University of Notre Dame, 2004), 1. 154 Jon Meacham, The Soul of America: The Battle for Our Better Angels (New York: Random House,

2018), 79–80. 155 Lincoln knew this. President Grant did as well and advocated for the Fifteenth Amendment in 1870

which would allow all men to vote. One year later, in 1871, due to the chaos in the South during reconstruction,

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The first thing that modern readers would observe about Palmer is his racism. Yet, this was

not a critique that Palmer faced from those within the Presbyterian Church of his time.

Palmer had critics. R. L. Stanton (examined in chapter five) being his most vocal. However,

criticism of Palmer focused on his division of the church and disloyalty to the Union, not

racism.157

I am here highlighting how a thoroughly orthodox Christian pastor could potentially promote

reprehensible ideas of violence and the regrettable institution of slavery. We saw in chapter

two that Palmer attempted to do away with metaphysical/figural hermeneutic in his

interpretation of the Bible in favor of a supposedly more reliable scientific/Baconian

hermeneutic that could supply a reader with interpretations as certain as natural facts.

However, whatever his intentions, the opposite occurred. His approach to the Old Testament

employed a consistent figural hermeneutic, which was anything but scientifically sound. This

suggests that attempting to jettison a figural reading of the Bible is not only impossible, it is

potentially destructive. In order for application to the present, the Scriptures demand to be

read with some sort of figuration. The question is, what should a reader use as the primary

image or lens? In chapters two and three, I have tried to show how Palmer’s inconsistent and

problematic hermeneutic contributed to his failures. Most importantly, it seemed that Palmer

did not read the Old Testament in an attempt to encounter the living person of Jesus Christ

President Grant was forced to appeal to Congress for the passage of the Enforcement Act, allowing him to suspend habeas corpus and to deploy military force against the Ku Klux Klan. See Meacham, The Soul of America, 66–67.

156 See also Hatch and Noll, The Bible in America, 8–9. Silver argued that “As no other group,

Southern clergymen were responsible for a state of mind which made secession possible.” Silver, Confederate Morale and Church Propaganda, 101. Nor should we underestimate the hate this spirit of secession had released. Goen records one Southern minister saying to any Northerner who dared come South, “I would slay you with as hearty a good will, and with as clear a conscience, as I would the midnight assassin. . . . You are my enemy, and I am yours.” Goen, “Broken Churches, Broken Nation,” 34. See also the entirety of Noll, The Civil War. The idea that clergy were instrumental toward secession is disputed by Daniel, who writes, “The influence of Presbyterian clergymen on the course of secession seems to have been minimal. The secession movement was essentially a political movement and was publicly embraced by religious leaders only in late 1860 and early 1861.” Daniel, “Southern Presbyterians in the Confederacy,” 255. However, the amount of evidence we have presented speaks to the contrary. Daniel is incorrect to separate religious and political movements, especially in the South.

157 Douglass considered the Northern church to be as harmful to the anti-slavery cause as the Southern

church (Fredrick Douglass, Frederick Douglass: Selected Speeches and Writings, ed. Philip S. Foner (Chicago: Lawrence Hill, 1999), 202.

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(or even an encounter with God in general). He read the Old Testament looking for a

blueprint on which to build his ideology. We will see in chapter five that this is directly in

contrast to the way that African American read the Scriptures.

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Chapter 4

James Henley Thornwell: The Old South’s Greatest Son

Although the work of Palmer shows how damaging a misguided figural exegesis can be, in

this chapter we will show that, nevertheless, a figural interpretation of the Scriptures is

profoundly helpful for the Bible to become practically applicable.1 We will compare

Thornwell’s use of Scripture and his handling of social issues with Palmer’s. While Palmer’s

tendency was to read everything through his trifecta of Scripture, Providence, and history, we

will see that Thornwell’s thought does not allow for such simple classification and rubrics.

Whereas Palmer relied heavily on a figural interpretation of Genesis 9 and 11 to apply his

concepts, we will see that Thornwell hardly uses the Scriptures at all to explain his ideas. As

we have argued, figuralism allows a reader to enter the world of Scripture. It enables the

reader to see the images in Scripture as not only comprehensible in and of themselves, but as

somehow relevant to the reader’s contemporary world. As we saw with Palmer, figuralism

can be a dangerous tool. However, as we will see with Thornwell, without any figuralism it

becomes difficult for the Bible to speak into a reader’s situation.

In fact, Thornwell’s thought unwittingly displayed the significant contradictions which were

representative of the larger Southern society. Indeed, Thornwell evinced an openness and

charity toward African Americans and the North that Palmer never allowed. We will suggest

that at least some of his generosity was due to his avoidance of a skewed figural

interpretation of Scripture. However, this thinking was short-lived, because in the end

Thornwell was loyal to the South above all else, and his use of the Scriptures to frame the

national crisis became marginal.

1 This is not to say there are no other ways of reading the Scriptures (i.e., I am not saying it must be done figurally or not at all). However, in Thornwell’s context this was more true than not. Largely available was a more traditional metaphysical/figural approach or an emerging scientific/historical approach (which Palmer and Thornwell were attempting to contribute to).

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Thornwell was known as one of the foremost intellects in the Antebellum Presbyterian

Church, North or South.2 He was aware of his own importance, writing in 1848, “My

doctrines… are rapidly growing and in a few years more they will be the predominant type of

opinion in the Presbyterian Church.”3 He graduated from South Carolina College with high

honors, returned later to teach, and eventually served as president. This was a remarkable

accomplishment given the significance of South Carolina College, which was, at the time,

“the finest institution of higher learning in the South and one of the finest in the nation.”4

In many ways the antebellum and early war Southern Presbyterian Church took direction

directly from James Henley Thornwell.5 When war broke out and the Southern Presbyterian

Church aligned itself with the Confederacy, it was Thornwell who helped to navigate these

waters and articulated the first significant defense of the Confederacy’s actions to the world.

After he died on August 1, 1862 at age 50 from tuberculosis, Palmer led the Southern

Presbyterian Church through the war and helped craft a vision that would allow the South to

2 Historian Eugene Genovese has written “The Southern intellectuals, lay and clerical, have for the

most part been swept into that famous Dustbin of History, to which those who back losing causes are routinely consigned. . . . [yet] in James Henley Thornwell of South Carolina (1812–1862), the South had a brain second to none.” “James Henley Thornwell and Southern Religion,” The Abbeville Review, (May 2015), 2, https://www.abbevilleinstitute.org/review/james-henley-thornwell-and-southern-religion/ (accessed May 20, 2019). See also Marilyn J. Westerkamp, “James Henley Thornwell, Pro-Slavery Spokesman within a Calvinistic Faith,” The South Carolina Historical Magazine 87, no. 1 (January 1986): 49. Genovese continues by advising, “It would hardly be wise to discount his larger views, which contain valuable insights into the problem of reconciling democracy with freedom… The questions that that great man raised, the brave if often unacceptable answers he advanced, and the insights into ourselves he offered continue to speak to all honest and sane men.” Genovese, “James Henley Thornwell and Southern Religion,” 10–11. Farmer observes that, at 24, Thornwell became the youngest moderator in the history of the American Presbyterian Church. James Oscar Farmer, The Metaphysical Confederacy: James Henley Thornwell and the Synthesis of Southern Values (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1999), 58. Henry Ward Beecher is thought to have said, “By common face Dr. Thornwell was the most brilliant minister in the Old School Presbyterian Church, and the most brilliant debater in the General Assembly.” (quoted in Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 177).

3 Quoted in Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 183. 4 Genovese, “James Henley Thornwell and Southern Religion,” 2. 5 Farmer notes that referring to him as “The Calhoun of the Church” was the result (among other

things) of Thornwell advancing the idea of jure divino Presbyterianism, where the polity of the church was understood to be only that which the Scriptures allowed. The effect of this was, for a time anyway, to keep divisive issues out of the General Assembly and to keep them from tearing the church apart. Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 184. Genovese notes that John Calhoun himself thought of Thornwell as “a giant among men.” Genovese, “James Henley Thornwell and Southern Religion,” 2.

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exist despite its absorption back into the Union. However, it was Thornwell who had laid the

groundwork for Palmer and the Southern Presbyterian Church. I have chosen to present

Thornwell after Palmer, in reverse chronological order, for two reasons. First, Palmer’s long

life gave him a greater length of time for activity (Thornwell’s life was cut short). Second,

our thesis concerns the importance of a figural hermeneutic, and Palmer’s work more

abundantly serves our purpose as Thornwell does not engage in any sustained figuralism.

However, we must be clear. Thornwell would have defended himself by saying that the Bible

was the final rule and authority in his life and in the church (as we will see below).6

4.1 Early Influences

In 1801, the national Presbyterian Church united with a number of Congregationalists to

“stem the rising tide of Arminianism.”7 However, this union was never stable. When the

New School elements displaying Arminian theological tendencies, socially progressive ideas,

and unmanaged revivals started to become more influential, the traditional branch of

Presbyterianism began to move against both Congregationalists and New Schoolers.

Thornwell was in full agreement with the General Assembly’s decision in 1837 to repeal the

“Plan of Union” and to expel the “New School” synods. Thornwell’s sentiment was that it

would be better to let those who differed go their own way than to endure constant fighting.

This would be his approach to conflict throughout his life.

In 1837, Thornwell was a delegate at the General Assembly. He did little more than listen

and vote.8 Yet, in the next year’s Assembly of 1838, Thornwell proposed a paper outlining

6 William W. Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” The Journal of

Southern History 57, no. 3 (August 1991): 388, notes this as well. However, Freehling’s portrait of Thornwell is more sympathetic than mine. I observe that the various threads Thornwell attempted to hold together were unravelling by the end of his life, with the tragic result that the Bible he loved and reverenced was of little use to him.

7 Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 177. 8 The separation between the Old and New School Presbyterians in 1837 resulted in the first division

of a major American denomination. The Methodists and Baptists would not divide until 1845—both over

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the doctrines and position of the newly established Old School version of American

Presbyterianism. Thornwell aimed to protect the Old School from any external liberalizing

tendencies. Farmer records that “the paper was adopted by a vote of forty-nine to eight, with

those voting in favor pledging that ‘no contrary doctrine shall be taught in [Columbia]

Seminary, or in our pulpits.’”9 Thornwell was only 26.

For Thornwell, doctrinal truth remained the standard by which to measure one’s course of

action. For example, he tried to halt the readmission of the Charleston Union Presbytery in

1852, independent since 1838, because he was apprehensive as to “what the members…

really do believe in regard to original sin—the nature and extent of the atonement, and the

ability of man in his natural state.”10 Despite Thornwell’s objections, the Synod of South

Carolina voted to admit the congregations.

As Thornwell’s position in the Presbyterian Church became increasingly prominent, he not

only attempted to articulate a coherent Christian vision, but to have this seamlessly integrated

with a Southern vision that included an articulation of the Church’s relation to the State and

slavery and a defense of the South before the world audience.11 Yet, by the end of his life,

slavery. The division of the Presbyterians was admittedly more complicated than their disagreement over slavery. The issue of slavery for “Old School” Presbyterians was inextricably tied to a larger issue of “authority.” As we saw with Palmer, so it was for all Old School Presbyterians. Old School Presbyterians in both the North and South were disinclined to push against slavery, since they viewed it as a move against what they regarded as the plain authoritative reading of God’s Word, which would imply a corresponding move toward anarchy, and finally, atheism. Although this logic may escape modern readers, it was deeply compelling for them. In short, for them to go against slavery implied that one was an atheist, since a biblically authorized institution would have to be flouted.

9 Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 181. 10 Mitchell Snay, Gospel of Disunion: Religion and Separatism in the Antebellum South (Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press, 1993), 183. Here Snay cites Minutes, Synod of South Carolina, 1852, 13; quoted in [Ernest Trice] Thompson, Presbyterians in the South, 1:422. He states that in this and the schism of 1837, “The Old School majority in the South . . . presented a model of division that valued purity over unity, a precedent that would shape the thinking of Southern clergymen during the secession crisis.” Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 126.

11 Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 68–70, 86, likewise observes how Thornwell spent considerable time

arguing that slavery did not interfere with human rights. See also Noll, The Civil War, 81; Snay, Gospel of Disunion, 98; and Eugene D. Genovese, Roll, Jordan, Roll: The World the Slaves Made (New York: Vintage Books, 1976), 29ff, who observes that slave states encountered legal complications as courts sought to legally define the nature of slave rights and slave humanity. On rare occasions a ruling occurred in favor of a slave over against his owner. Yet, even when a slave was accused of a crime, this presupposed that the slave was human

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Thornwell would jettison any attempt to reconcile the South’s position to the rest of the

world, or to harmonize his Christianity with the violence of war. He would defend the South

at all costs.12

4.2 Thornwell’s Baconian Methodology

In order to begin to understand Thornwell’s approach to Scripture and society, we will

examine his foundational essay on hermeneutics. Like Palmer, Thornwell was a vocal

proponent of Baconian Scottish Common Sense. When Thornwell wrote the first essay in the

1847 inaugural volume of SPR, it was on the Baconian method and entitled, “The Office of

Reason in Regard to Revelation.”13 The article illuminates Thornwell’s approach to theology

(as the parallel article did with Palmer). But whereas Palmer was cementing his thinking, we

will see that Thornwell displayed tensions in his assessment of the extent and use of reason.14

Thornwell began the essay by stating that ancient and medieval practices tended to lead one

into believing “that faith is inconsistent with reason, and that Christianity repudiates an

enough to stand before a court and answer for the offence. (“[South Carolinian] Judge Waites, in State v. Cynthia Simmons and Lawrence Kitchen (1794), ‘Negroes are under the protection of the laws, and have personal rights, and cannot be considered on a footing only with domestic animals. They have wills of their own—capacities to commit crimes; and are responsible for offences against society.” Genovese, Roll, Jordan, Roll, 29. Genovese quotes influential Southern secessionist Howell Cobb, who said during the war, “If slaves make good soldiers, our whole theory of slavery is wrong.” Genovese, Roll, Jordan, Roll, 129. Douglass also observed that by the South enacting laws against slave disobedience, they acknowledged that the slave was a responsible moral being. Douglass, Fredrick Douglass: Autobiographies, ed. Henry Louis Gates Jr. (New York: Literary Classics of the United States, 1994), 195–97.

12 Bozeman rejects “the notion that Thornwell’s thought may be properly interpreted as a simple and parochial Old School compound of Westminster dogma, biblical literalism and regional social bias.” Theodore Dwight Bozeman, “Science, Nature and Society: A New Approach to James Henley Thornwell,” Journal of Presbyterian History 50, no. 4 (Winter 1972): 325, While we will largely agree with this assessment, we will see at the end of this chapter that Southern honor ended up being paramount for Thornwell, as it had been for Palmer.

13 James Henley Thornwell, “The Office of Reason in Regard to Revelation,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 1 (June 1847): 1–33.

14 See Snay, The Gospel of Disunion, 78.

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appeal to argument.”15 Thornwell’s concern was to show that Protestant Christianity was not

part of the ancient fables being swept away by modern scientific discoveries. Thornwell

wrote, “We repeat it, Christianity has nothing to fear from true science.”16 He was also aware

that the empirical skepticism of Locke “has shown that demonstration is inferior to

intuition.”17 That is, Thornwell knew that the objective world could be difficult to

definitively demonstrate. Thus, for Thornwell, faith was a means to attain certainty of

knowledge by grasping truth revealed directly from God (as opposed to using other

intellectual faculties that at times prove to be unreliable). Here Thornwell was not only

providing a philosophical foundation for the Old School Presbyterians, but was also

comfortably entering into a wider intellectual discussion, taking on ancient pagans and

modern skeptics.18 His approach bordered on the existential: certainty of truth was possible

by the confidence of faith’s apprehension.19 Before Thornwell showed why this existential

approach to truth was necessary, he asked the central question of his essay: Is reason a

competent judge of revelation?20

Thornwell observed that an abundance of external observations could be used to come to any

number of conclusions. He viewed Rome’s appeal to miracles as a factual/empirical way to

substantiate truth.21 Yet, Thornwell agreed with skepticism that certainty cannot be built on

empirical facts, and aimed to find a way toward both vindicating Protestant Christianity and

15 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 2. 16 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 34. 17 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 4. Bozeman, “Science, Nature and Society,” 325 observes

Thornwell’s engagement with Enlightenment thinking and current intellectual trends in Britain and America. See also Noll, Civil War, 19.

18 Although Thornwell left this thought unexplored after this essay, one can sense the same existential

concerns that drove others like Soren Kierkegaard. 19 By “existential” we mean the attempt by Thornwell to apprehend some form of truth within the

confines of an individual’s reasoning ability and largely apart from truth as declared by a hierarchical institution.

20 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 6. 21 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 8.

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securing absolute truth. His existential solution drove toward the inward certainty provided

by doctrine (and away from data). He wrote, “the doctrine and the doctrine alone is made the

turning point of the argument.”22 He continued this thought, stating, “We lay it down then as

a general principle that the competency of reason to judge in any case is the measure of its

right.”23 It was not that reason was the final arbiter of truth, but that it was reason alone that

was capable of securing doctrine (and hence truth) for an individual. Doctrine then is the

perfect form of human reasoning.

Thornwell’s approach also was related to his view of ecclesiastical polity as jure divino, “by

divine law.” Thornwell’s opinion was that the ordering of the church should only be based on

that which was explicitly commanded in Scripture. For Thornwell, ethics and conduct not

clearly delineated in Scripture were more ambiguous; he suggested that at times it would be

better to say what ethics were not than what they must always be. For Thornwell, reason

functioned to prove “the supernatural” and to refute “the natural;” doctrine was theoretically

certain, while ethics were constantly in flux. 24 Thornwell did not mention slavery in this

essay, but clearly he believed that institution would fall under, rather than natural and ethical

as we might suppose, but under supernatural revelation, since it was sanctioned in Scripture.

Hence, not only was a critique of the right to own slaves off-limits, but such a critique would

be viewed as an attack on the supernatural authority of Scripture.

Thornwell tried to distance himself from the charge that human reason decided what

revelation was. Later in the essay he wrote, “We are not reluctant to confess, [reason] is

capable of immense abuse. . . . If God gives reason the right to judge, He gives it subject to a

fearful responsibility.”25 Nevertheless, despite his intentions, he had lodged the authoritative

center in the individual. As a Protestant actively pushing against Rome, he felt compelled to

do so. Thus, while he asserted the principle that reason only confirmed revelation, in actual

22 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 10. 23 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 12. 24 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 13. 25 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 28.

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practice, since reason was lodged in an individual, who was to arbitrate what was and was

not revelation? If reason was the sole gate through which revelation moved (there being no

larger ecclesial check), a common reading of the Bible and Christian unity would eventually

be imperiled. Thornwell assumed that these potential problems would be eliminated by the

truth of the doctrinal discoveries. Just as one person might articulate the law of gravity and

all others were bound to obey it, likewise, if one person articulated a truly divine principle,

all others would be bound to obey it.

Thornwell’s understanding of reason as the individual’s ability to confirm divine revelation,

led him close to articulating the necessity for a figural reading of Scripture. He observed that

there were a number of things in Scripture that appeared to have little value, noting that the

“events, manners, customs and institutions of an age long since past . . . are the sources of no

little perplexity and labor to their modern readers.”26 “But these things,” he argued, “affect

the costume, but not the substance of revelation—the body but not the soul. Its life must be

sought in its supernatural discoveries.”27 This interpretive move effectively demoted the

“body” of Scripture; the “soul” was what mattered (so, too with the nature of the church and

the Christian life.). When Thornwell made the distinction between the soul and body of

Scripture, he was attempting to free the truth of Scripture from “papists” who claimed that

the knotty issues in the Bible must be interpreted by the clergy and not the laity. Yet, with his

Protestant insistence that the Bible be accessible to everyone, Thornwell was forced to find a

way into passages of Scripture that would apparently be inaccessible to plain readings and

interpretation by all but the elite. Thus, he essentially acknowledged that some sort of

figurative reading was necessary if Protestantism was to remain valid (or else the Scriptures

ought to be relinquished to the Papal Magisterium). Thornwell came close to suggesting that

the Old Testament demanded to be read Christocentrically. He said,

The Bible incidentally treats of history, geography and ancient manners, but these are not the things which give it its value—Christ crucified—its great subject—it is the

26 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 13. 27 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 13.

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knowledge of Him that saves the soul—and that knowledge is more accessible to the poor and ignorant than to the arrogant disputers of this world.28

Here he again suggested that if Protestantism was true, then it must allow for the common

person to read the Bible in a figurative manner, meaning that it must speak of Christ

crucified for his enemies or else the text becomes largely indecipherable or inapplicable.

Likewise, Thornwell insisted on a Christological interpretation to Hosea 11:1. In a debate on

election and reprobation, Thornwell entered into a dispute over the proper interpretation of

Matthew 2:15. Thornwell quotes Hosea 11:1, “That it might be fulfilled which was spoken of

the Lord by the prophets saying, Out of Egypt have I called my son.”29 Thornwell states that

some have said that Hosea could not have had Christ in view since “the passage in Hosea

will not bear that meaning.”30 However, says Thornwell, “every one sees from the context

that it must and does refer to Christ, no matter what may be the meaning of the original

passage in the Prophet.”31 Thornwell recognizes that the interpretation of the Old Testament,

when read alongside the New Testament, must take on multiple levels of meaning. He writes,

“We may warrantably employ the language in a sense different from that in which it was

originally used.”32 He seems to recognize that since Christ was always in God, when God

spoke in the Old Testament, it would have been impossible for him to wholly leave his Son

out of view. Thus, even if the Old Testament writers did not see the Son, he was still there all

the same.

Thornwell seemed to be at the cusp of advancing an important way to approach the Old

Testament (at least in his social context), and he knew that such a Christocentric reading was

necessary. However, he never pursued the implications of what it would mean to read the

28 Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 14.

29 James Henley Thornwell, “Election and Reprobation,” The Collected Writings of James Henley Thornwell: Volume 2, Theological and Ethical, ed. John B. Adger (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1871), 131.

30 Thornwell, “Election and Reprobation,” 131.



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Old Testament as also somehow witnessing to Christ’s death for sinners.33 Instead,

Thornwell sought truths that could function as dogmatic principles apart from the difficult

details of the text. As was true for Palmer, Thornwell appears to move away from an

intentional metaphysical/figural approach and toward something more scientific and

demonstrable.

4.3 The Church as a Spiritual Body and Political Implications

After Thornwell attended the Presbyterian General Assembly in Richmond, May 20, 1847 he

wrote an extensive essay for SPR documenting and analyzing the meeting. Toward the end of

the essay, he related how the Scottish and Irish Presbyterian Churches had recently written

letters to the American Presbyterians heavily criticizing slavery.34 Thornwell wrote, “Our

correspondence with Ireland and Scotland must cease. . . . We desire no instruction from

foreign lands; we know and understand our duty.”35 He insisted that his recalcitrance was

justified by Scripture, stating, “[It] never can be proved from the Word of God, nor the light

of nature, that Slavery is essentially a sin. . . . We stand upon the platform of the Bible.”36 He

conceded that while it was the church’s duty to speak to the morality of the institution of

33 One might begin to see how Thornwell always attempted to hold multiple threads together. Often

times his heart aimed for Christian unity, yet his methodology did not demand it. We will see this tension only increasing in Thornwell, especially as the Old School Presbyterian Church came apart at the beginning of the war. He longed for unity but could not find a way to attain it. Prior to the war, Thornwell was one of the most prominent Southern leaders to emphasize the need for Christians to remain unified (he was against those calling for secession during the Nullification Crisis of 1832 and the Compromise crisis of 1850). Freehling notes that when Thornwell saw how South Carolina came close to seceding, the possibility was appalling and caused him “absolute horror.” Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s “Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 400. When pressed to choose between fighting to preserve truth and not fighting to preserve unity, as noted above, he seemed to have chosen the former only reluctantly. Freehling speculates that after the death of Thornwell’s father, the stability that Southern society offered provided his foundational appreciation for hierarchy and roles. Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 385.

34 James Henley Thornwell, “The General Assembly of 1847,” The Collected Writings of Thornwell: Volume 4, Ecclesiastical, 481–504, ed. John B. Adger and John L. Girardeau (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1873), 500–504.

35 Thornwell, “The General Assembly of 1847,” 500. 36 Thornwell, “The General Assembly of 1847,” 500.

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slavery, as a “spiritual body” the church had “no right to interfere directly with the civil

relations of society.”37 Whereas Thornwell earlier suggested that slavery was scripturally

sanctioned, here he argues for the validity of the institution from a socio-political angle.

Slavery fell under the category of “civil relations of society” (i.e., ways that humans might

arrange relationships in a postlapsarian world).

We have seen how limiting the church to a “spiritual body” allowed Palmer to denigrate the

human body; the same happened to Thornwell. Yet, where Palmer saw slavery as a positive

good, Thornwell saw it as a temporary societal necessity.38 He wrote, “As Christian men and

as Christian ministers, we are bound to seek not the freedom but the salvation of our race.”39

Thornwell did not mean the white race as opposed to the black race, but rather, the human

race. He was saying that physical freedom was not a concern of the church, but only the

salvation of souls. But in reality, this bodiless salvation only applied to African Americans,

for when white Southerners were faced with having to submit to the North, war was quickly

justified to preserve their physical freedom: white Southerners demanded both spiritual

salvation and physical freedom. However, the bodies of African Americans were condemned

to a merely spiritual salvation. Thus, the “church as spiritual body” was only a claim the

South was compelled to make to deflect criticism.

In his report, Thornwell acknowledged that criticisms of slavery were coming in from every

corner of the world. He wrote, “The sympathies of the world, we know, are against us; we

are blackened and reviled upon the right hand and the left, but we have the testimony of a

good conscience, the earnest of God’s approbation, and we ask no more. Our position cannot

be successfully assailed without an impeachment of the authority of the Scriptures.”40 This

allowed him to dispense with meddlesome opinions from places like Ireland and Scotland.

Thornwell wrote, “This dead weight [of Ireland and Scotland], which its fellowship with us

37 Thornwell, “The General Assembly of 1847,” 501. 38 Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 393. 39 Thornwell, “The General Assembly of 1847,” 501–502. 40 Thornwell, “The General Assembly of 1847,” 503–504.

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imposes, [we] would no longer be doomed to carry, if the correspondence were brought to a

close.”41

4.4 Thornwell’s Defense of the South and Slavery

Throughout 1850 to 1852, Thornwell carefully crafted and repeatedly deployed his argument

to defend the South and uphold slavery. This argument was utilized in a sermon in 1850, a

report to the Synod of South Carolina in 1851, and in an essay for SPR in 1852. Elements of

the argument were so important to Thornwell that he reused whole sections. The vision cast

was one where the South stood alone against a hostile world, singularly upholding the Word

of God. Palmer’s vision for the South asked that it take up the burden of slavery for the good

of all humanity, plotted along the map laid out in Genesis 9 and 11. Thornwell’s vision for

the South, by contrast, was far more restricted and complex. He rarely quoted Scripture (he

did not quote Scripture at all in the three important essays of 1850–1852). Thornwell did not

seem to feel that the Southern position was best defended by relying upon Scripture. Rather,

he continued to rely on the importance of reason’s ability to grasp truth.

On May 26, 1850, a building to be used for the “instruction of the coloured population”42

(note the emphasis on the intellect, not the body) was erected by the Second Presbyterian

Church of Charleston. The new construction was explicitly not a “church” but “a simple

congregation.”43 The dedication was attended by an all-white gathering and Thornwell gave

41 Thornwell, “The General Assembly of 1847,” 504. Thornwell ended 1847 with another article for

SPR, “The Christian Pastor,” Southern Presbyterian Review 1, no. 3 (December 1847): 127–153. In it he recognized the importance of the community in the calling of a minister, since “we may deceive ourselves.” The community was necessary “to authenticate a call from [God].” As observed above, here again we see Thornwell utilizing doubt as a better foundation than arrogant confidence. Thornwell displayed a contradictory mix of caution and confidence in his own thinking.

42 James Henley Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,”

Southern Presbyterian Review 4, no. 1 (July 1850), 106. 43 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 106. Not only would

this keep the African Americans under white supervision, but it would help allay concerns by slaveholders in a state with the strongest laws against black reading, writing, and congregating. See Janet Duitsman Cornelius, When I Can Read My Title Clear: Literacy, Slavery, and Religion in the Antebellum South (Columbia:

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the address. Thornwell said that the building was “for the special benefit of those who are

emphatically the poor of our land.”44 This benevolence was prompted by a desire to educate

the minds of African Americans.45 His sermon entitled “Slavery and the Religious

Instruction of the Coloured Population” was called by the editors of Thornwell’s writings,

John Adger and John Girardeau, in 1873, “representative of Southern thought and sentiment

on the subject.”46 Adger and Girardeau went on to say that if the “coloured race” has in “any

measure, been prepared for the responsibilities and duties of freemen so suddenly thrust upon

them,” then it was due to men like Thornwell and sermons like this.47

In this sermon, Thornwell again described how the majority of world opinion had turned

against the South, and specifically, he was aware that others considered slavery a denigration

of human rights. He said, “We have been denounced . . . as conspirators against the dignity

of man.”48 He continued, “The philanthropists of Europe and this country can find nothing

worth weeping for but the sufferings and degradation of the Southern slave.”49 Thornwell

found this sentimentality to be socially harmful as it stirred up “insurrection in our midst”

and “the utter ruin of this vast imperial Republick, is to be achieved as a trophy to the

progress of human development.”50

University of South Carolina Press, 1992), 26, 27. This sermon by Thornwell was also published as: James Henley Thornwell, “The Christian Doctrine of Slavery,” The Collected Writings of Thornwell: Volume 4, Ecclesiastical, ed. John B. Adger and John L. Girardeau (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1873), 398–436.

44 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 107. 45 We again observe how the intellect and the body were easily separated in the South. 46 Thornwell, Prefatory Note, “The Christian Doctrine of Slavery,” 380. 47 Thornwell, Prefatory Note, “The Christian Doctrine of Slavery,” 380. Although the volume was

published eight years after the war, the editors wrote, “A day of reaction may yet come, when the force of the views here submitted to the world will be acknowledged, when the justice which has hitherto been denied to the Church at the South will be rendered by the people of Jesus, who cannot always be blinded to scriptural truth by theories of human rights and humanitarian schemes, conceived in the womb of a rationalistic philosophy.” Thornwell, Prefatory Note, “The Christian Doctrine of Slavery,” 380.

48 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 108–109. 49 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 109. 50 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 109–10.

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Thornwell countered the concerns of humanitarians by suggesting that the situation was not

nearly as bad as some feared, for “the negro is one blood with ourselves . . . the same

humanity . . . we are not ashamed to call him our brother.”51 This expansive charity

immediately raised the question why the institution existed at all. Thornwell addressed this,

saying,

The very principles upon which we have been accustomed to justify Southern slavery are the principles of regulated liberty—that in defending this institution we have really been upholding the civil interests of mankind—resisting alike the social anarchy of communism and the political anarchy of licentiousness—that we have been supporting representative, republican government against the despotism of masses on the one hand, and the supremacy of a single will on the other.52

A few sentences later he described the difference between the South and the world as “the

theater of an extraordinary conflict of great principles.”53 He further explained that these

“principles” were not about slavery: “It is not the narrow question of abolitionism or of

slavery—not simply whether we shall emancipate our negroes or not—the real question is

the relations of man to society.”54 Not yet finished with his explanation of precisely what

these “principles” were, he declared, “Christianity and Atheism [are] the combatants.”55 The

“principles” at stake were the correct ordering of a stable society.

Thornwell then stated that an accurate reading of the Bible was on the side of the

slaveholders, and the abolitionists, knowing this, had begun to suggest that the “spirit” of the

51 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 111–12. Comments

like these were aimed at polygenists like Charleston scientist Josiah Nott (see Louis Menand, The Metaphysical Club: A Story of Ideas in America (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2001), 110–12).

52 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 112–13. 53 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 113. 54 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 114. Farmer

observes that the ordering of society was a consuming interest for the South. It wanted “organicism” for the regulation of life. Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 158.

55 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,”114. See also

Genovese, “James Henley Thornwell and Southern Religion,” 6.

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text was nevertheless against slavery.56 Thus, slavery’s enemies “maintain that [the Bible’s]

spirit is against us.” That is, abolitionists were arguing that the Scriptures revealed a

trajectory toward increasing freedom. Thornwell aimed “to expose the confusion . . . betwixt

the letter and the spirit of the Gospel.”57 Thornwell’s literalism found easy justification for

slavery in the Bible. For Thornwell, as we will see, this literalism also secured the authority

of the Bible.58 To admit to a supposed “spirit” of the text was potentially anarchic (that is,

what sort of “spirit” might some other interpreter divine in the Scriptures when the need

suited them?). However, despite Thornwell’s insistence on the simplicity of literally reading

the Bible, he displayed a significant tension. In what Freehling calls, “a stunning definition

of slavery,” Thornwell argued that when the body of the slave is purchased, the soul or will

remains free.59 However, this freedom of the soul or will was not argued by Thornwell on the

basis of Scripture. Freehling does not discuss how these two sentiments (that the Bible

permits physical slavery but reason demands the freedom of the soul) could have been

resolved in Thornwell’s mind.

Before moving into Thornwell’s explanation, we must observe his shrewd insight. He knew

that a defense of slavery could not be defeated with a literal interpretation of the Bible. Yet,

Thornwell also knew that no one outside the South would be convinced by a Southerner’s

literal argument. He did not want to merely preach to the choir. He wanted to address the

world. Thus, he attempted to answer upon the new ground that the abolitionists had

developed (namely, that even if slavery was literally in the Bible, there is a “spirit” of the

text that demands freedom). He recognized that the debate over slavery had progressed

56 See Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 388. See also

Genovese: “Increasingly, the Abolitionists had to retreat to arguments from the Spirit rather than the Word—a procedure that served them well among the many Northerners for whom the Word was becoming something of a nuisance, but a procedure that ruined them among the country people of the South, who resisted all theological liberalism, however nicely packaged as neo-Calvinism.” Genovese, “James Henley Thornwell and Southern Religion,” 4–5.

57 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 115. 58 See Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 388, “Just as John C.

Calhoun insisted on a literal interpretation of the Constitution, so Thornwell seized onto every syllable of Scripture.”

59 Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 390.

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farther than any literal interpretation. Thus, although he felt that a proper literal reading was

on his side, he left it behind in favor of correcting a supposedly false notion of the “spirit” of

the text.

To dispel the notion that the spirit of the Christianity could not allow slavery, Thornwell

attacked the arguments of New England Unitarian Ellery Channing (1780–1842). Channing’s

critique of slavery was that the institution violated “human rights” since “it belongs to the

very essence of slavery to divest its victims of humanity.”60 Thornwell then quoted English

priest and polymath William Whewell (1794–1866) at length, who likewise opposed slavery

over ideas of justice and humanity. Thornwell countered both men, saying that contrary to

what they might think, “personal rights and personal responsibility pervade the whole

system. It is a relation of man to man—a form of civil society.”61 He enlisted the apostle Paul

to help support his literal position, declaring, “[Paul] considered slavery as a social and

political economy in which relations subsisted betwixt moral, intelligent, responsible beings,

involving reciprocal rights and reciprocal obligations.”62 If one were to reply that the slave, a

supposed “intelligent, responsible being,” did not have his opinion solicited regarding this

arrangement, Thornwell conceded that this was true. He said that some labor obligations

were due to contract, while others were due to command. The laborers “in each case are

equally moral, equally responsible, equally men. But they work upon different principles.”63

How an arrangement enforced by command and coercion could preserve the humanity of a

slave was due to the fact that one person cannot become the property of another without

60 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 116–17. 61 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 118. 62 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 119. 63 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 122. See also pages

129 to 133 for more on obligation and duty in a specific role, which was, for Thornwell, not inconsistent with Christianity. “The servant of men may be the freeman of the Lord. If this situation is compatible, as it confessedly is, with the achievement of the great end of his existence—if in the school of bondage he may be trained for the glorification and enjoyment of God, he is not divested of any of the rights which belong to him essentially as man.” Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 133.

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remainder: “it is a thing which cannot be conceived.”64 There was always something in a

person which remained his own; hence slavery did not destroy one’s humanity. As an

example of this truth, Thornwell observed how God, in his providential ordering of the

world, commanded a great many things, yet even among all God’s rules and sovereignty,

humans remained free and responsible. Moreover, Thornwell asserted that the ethical

conditions of free labor could be worse than slave labor.65 Thus, human freedom cannot be

determined by whether human labor was commanded or contracted. Rather, one maintained

the responsibility of being human if one responded rightly in the sphere in which one found

oneself. Possessing freedom did not consist, for Thornwell, in being able to throw off

responsibility, but rather in fulfilling the obligations of one’s given role (be it father, mother,

child, slave owner, or slave).66 This was in accord with Thornwell’s previous existential

move to make individual reason the sole gateway of divine truth. Now similarly, freedom,

responsibility, and even humanity itself were shaped into intellectual and existential

concepts, removed from the physical reality of the body. He said, “The external

circumstances in which men are placed . . . are not the things which ennoble or depress us in

the scale of excellence.”67 Thus, although a slave may find him or her self in an unpleasant

situation, according to Thornwell, this need not impinge the nobility of a slave’s humanity or

freedom. However, as we saw above, although Thornwell engaged a wider concept of

Providence and creation to argue his position, he did not engage the Bible as specifically as

when he was arguing for slavery based on a literal interpretation.

64 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 120. 65 Freehling refers to this as a “stunning definition of slavery.” For Thornwell, at least conceptually (if

not in practice), had insisted that the slave is essentially a free individual who always possess some level of ownership over himself. “A master . . . did not buy the body or the soul or the will. The owner only purchased the servile’s labor, no less but absolutely no more.” Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 390. Genovese points out that “In one sense Thornwell was no friend to slavery at all” since “he ruthlessly criticized its evils.” Genovese, “James Henley Thornwell and Southern Religion,” 8.

66 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 124.

67 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 125.

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However, Thornwell believed that a day would come when “slavery must cease to exist. . . .

Slavery is a part of the curse.”68 For now, slavery was a necessary evil that checked the chaos

of mob rule.69 This claim that slavery was a part of the fallen world and would end at the

world’s remaking was miles away from Palmer’s description of slavery as a positive good,

tying it to his biblical interpretation. Thornwell never explicitly used Scripture to support

slavery, let alone Genesis 9. He went on to say that even “distinction of ranks in society, in

the same way, is an evil.”70 Social stratification was only necessary to keep society from

chaos.

The heart of this sermon of 1850 was revised and condensed for a report on slavery prepared

for the Synod of South Carolina in 1851.71 The report was unanimously adopted.72 In this

report Thornwell again noted that the majority of world opinion had turned against the South.

He said that at one time the worst fear had been “partial alienation, perhaps an external

schism,” but then said that “more portentous calamities are dreaded,” and specifically that

there were “the gloomiest forebodings in relation to the integrity of the Union.”73 However,

he remained confident, saying, “The position of the Southern, and perhaps . . . of the whole

Presbyterian, Church, in relation to Slavery, is the only position which can save the Country

68 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 126–27. See also

Westerkamp, “Thornwell, Pro-Slavery Spokesman,” 57. “Thornwell’s position was particularly strange” in that he believed African Americans to be brothers and slavery to not be an absolute good, yet he insisted that Providence and Scripture allowed for slavery. Westerkamp, “Thornwell, Pro-Slavery Spokesman,” 60.

69 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 127. Although he

had earlier said that slavery was unlike disease (and one should not hope to eradicate it), here he meant that it was similar to disease in so far that when God finally redeems creation there will be no more slavery (thus speaking of slavery’s end but also implying its endurance in the current order of Providence).

70 Thornwell, “Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Coloured Population,” 128. He says much

the same in his 1852 essay, “Where do the Scriptures teach that an essential equality as men implies a corresponding equality of state?” James Henley Thornwell, “Report on Slavery,” Southern Presbyterian Review 5, no. 3 (January 1852): 387. See also Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 393.

71James Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” The Collected Writings of Thornwell: Volume

4, Ecclesiastical, ed. John B. Adger and John L. Girardeau (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1873), 381–397.

72 Thornwell, Prefatory Note, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 379. 73 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 381–82.

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from disaster and the Church from schism.”74 He continued to refine his argument on the

church as a spiritual kingdom and struck an increasingly virulent tone over slavery’s

importance for social coherence.

Since the church was a spiritual body, it had no mandate from God to solve the problems of

human misery. Rather, “she must leave them [miseries] to the Providence of God,” and civil

institutions.75 According to Thornwell, “The power of the Church . . . is only ministerial and

declarative.”76 Here Thornwell made his famous statement, “Beyond the Bible she can never

go, and apart from the Bible she can never speak.”77 Thornwell believed strongly that “the

Church is not at liberty to speculate. She has a creed, but no opinions. When she speaks, it

must be in the name of the Lord, and her only argument is Thus it is written.”78 Thus, while

the Southern church and state provided for the rights of the slave, it would be inappropriate

for the church to argue for the physical freedom of the slave.

Thornwell did not try to promote the benefits of slavery to the world as Palmer did. He

simply asked that the rest of the world leave the South alone, saying, “All [the South has]

demanded is, that their brethren would leave [slavery] where God has left it.”79 However,

Thornwell wanted to be clear that if labor is taken from someone, that did not mean that their

rights were thereby violated. He asked, “Where are we taught that the labour which a man

puts forth in his own person is always his, or belongs to him of right, and cannot belong to

another?”80 Thornwell stated that that the idea of unfettered, universal rights “sprung from

74 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 382. 75 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 383. 76 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 383. 77 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 384. 78 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 384. See also Westerkamp, “Thornwell, Pro-

Slavery Spokesman,” 56. 79 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 387. 80 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 389.

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visionary theories of human nature and society.”81 These theories on what constitutes full

humanity only hold for people with dark skin, however. Full humanity for white Europeans

must allow them to maintain the fruits of their labor and bodily freedom.

Thornwell then passed on to what caused him real concern, which was that if people argued

against the South, then they would be doing injury “to the authority of the sacred writers.”82

Upending biblical authority was for Thornwell the greatest sign that the democratic

experiment had failed. It was for such a disregard of Scripture that he wished to

“affectionately warn our [Northern] brethren of the mischiefs that must follow from their

mode of conducting the argument.”83 He concluded by saying, “We do not ask them to

patronize Slavery; we do not wish them to change their own institutions; we only ask them to

treat us as the Apostles treated the slaveholders of their day. . . . If this reasonable demand is

refused, upon them and not upon us must rest the perilous responsibility of the disasters that

must inevitably follow.”84

In January 1852, Thornwell wrote a “Report on Slavery” for SPR, further refining the

argument he had been honing since 1850.85 Although it repeated much of “The Relation of

the Church to Slavery” prepared in 1851 for the Synod of South Carolina, here we see

Thornwell increasing the gap between the doctrine of the church and the ethics of the church.

Thornwell continued to argue that it was not the church’s role to become involved with

social issues, and thus such issues should not divide Christians. The church “is not . . . a

81 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 393. Thornwell despised structural change and

regarded a hierarchical society as necessary to stability. See also Fox-Genovese and Genovese, Mind of the Master Class, 328: “The Middle Ages offered an indispensable foundation—and justification—for many cherished southern beliefs despite practices they believed they themselves had overcome and left behind. Whether in religion or social relations, the Middle Ages illuminated for Southerners the tension between continuity and change.” Also, as we saw in chapter three, the South at this time often had an adversarial relationship with the Declaration of Independence, favoring instead the Constitution.

82 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 393. 83 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 393. 84 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 395–96. 85 James Henley Thornwell, “Report on Slavery,” Southern Presbyterian Review 5, no. 3 (January

1852): 380–94.

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moral institute of universal good. . . . it has no commission to construct society afresh.”86 As

he had said in 1851, so he reiterated: the church “has a fixed and unalterable constitution;

and that constitution is the word of God. It is the kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ,” which is

exclusively a spiritual kingdom concerned with doctrinal truth and status before God.87

Thornwell repeated that the church’s “only argument is, thus it is written.”88 To modern

readers, this would seem to be a patently false position. The nineteenth century Presbyterian

Church spoke often into issues that were not explicitly mentioned in Scripture. But

Thornwell had already countered this argument when he said in 1850 that the church had the

obligation to speak on improving the moral conduct of people, but not to work toward

changing civil institutions, as that would inevitably cause chaos. Thornwell insisted that the

church should give up even talking about slavery.89 To some degree, Thornwell’s objective

was commendable: he aimed to preserve the Union and avoid war. However, if the North and

South continued to talk about slavery, then they would continue to argue about it; and if they

argued long enough, they would fight.

Thornwell had a profound concern to know God and to act in accordance with his will. Yet

his attempt to describe the status of a human before God was encountering tensions. For

Thornwell, the Bible sanctioned slavery. Yet creation and reason demanded that the soul or

will of a human always remained free. Slavery was necessary for a stable society. Yet

slavery was not inherently good. Most importantly, as we saw with Palmer, the person of

Jesus Christ was conspicuously absent from his hermeneutical system.

86 Thornwell, “Report on Slavery,” 381. In this essay he obliquely mentioned the Methodist’s split

that had been instigated when the Methodist General Conference suspended Bishop James Osgood Andrew [1794–1871] for owning slaves—a move which incensed and offended the Southern delegates and resulted in the split of 1844. Thornwell said that if anyone could not have table fellowship with a slave owner, then it was not the South which was schismatic, but those who disagreed with her. Thornwell, “Report on Slavery,” 382.

87 Thornwell, “Report on Slavery,” 382. 88 Thornwell, “Report on Slavery,” 382. 89 Thornwell took the position that “if the Church had universally repressed the spirit of speculation,

and had been content to stand by the naked testimony of God, we should have been spared many of the most effective dissertations against slavery.” He continued and said, “If the Church is bound to abide by the authority of the Bible, and that alone, she discharges her whole office in regard to slavery. . . . Where the Scriptures are silent, she must be silent too. . . . What the Scriptures have sanctioned, she does not condemn.” Thornwell, “Report on Slavery,” 383–84.

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4.5 Contradictions in the Thinking of Thornwell

While teaching at Columbia Seminary in 1856, Thornwell continued to explore the mind’s

ability to perceive truth. He began to see that attributing such an elevated power to reason

exceeded reason’s ability to grasp the truth.90 Thus, Thornwell came to the conclusion that if

reason was truly as infallible as Scottish Common Sense philosopher Thomas Reid had

suggested, then it was liable to produce an unparalleled arrogance in humankind.91 Thornwell

wrote, “It is impossible to express in any adequate names the extent to which I conceive

these principles to be dangerous. They hoist the floodgates of fanaticism, licentiousness and

crime, and sanctify the most outrageous abominations of human fancy and conceit under the

hallowed name of inspiration.”92 This criticism was aimed mostly at progressives,

abolitionists, and “rationalists” in the North. However, we can observe here that Thornwell’s

correction to an abuse of rationalism was not to first say that only the Southern Old School

was right and everyone else was wrong. Rather, to counter fanaticism, he leaned toward a

skepticism for all. Everyone, the South included, had to be cautious of reason’s tendency to

justify its arbitrary actions and flout authority. His questioning caused him to be “among the

first American orthodox theologians to break, at least partially, with the Baconianism of the

Scottish school.”93

Thornwell was not so afraid of skepticism as Palmer was, since he believed that it could be

overcome by faith: “If we did not [eventually] stop at a matter of faith . . . there would be an

infinite series in all our deductions and consequently there would be no possibility of ever

arriving at a conviction of certainty.”94 Farmer comments on this: “[Thornwell] was less

90 See Thornwell’s comments on the intellect in a lecture regarding the being of God: “The truth is,

intelligence would be a mere delusion if the fundamental law of reason were shut up within the limits of a rigorous subjectivity. It would be impossible to extend our knowledge beyond the circle of actual experience,” James Henley Thornwell, “The Being of God,” The Collected Writings of Thornwell: Volume I, Theological, 53–73, ed. John B. Adger (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1871), 57.

91 Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 146. 92 Quoted in Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 146. 93 Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 142. 94 Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 147. Brackets in the original.

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optimistic than many regarding man’s ability to answer, through the Baconian method, any

and all scientific questions. . . . He was more willing than others to allow for the value of

speculation and abstract rational thought in assisting and direction the course of scientific

investigation.”95

Thornwell’s thought was leading him to both uncover and create pitfalls in the Southern

position. In 1860, while in Europe, he had decided that on his return he would argue for

emancipation. Palmer, in his biography on Thornwell, wrote, “He had made up his mind to

move, immediately upon his return, for the gradual emancipation of the negro, as the only

measure that would give peace to the country, by taking away, at least, the external cause of

irritation. ‘But,’ [Thornwell] added, ‘when I got home, I found it was too late; the die was

cast.’”96

Thornwell’s entertainment of emancipation has puzzled many.97 Some have suggested that

entertaining emancipation was an exigency by Thornwell to preserve unity. Palmer saw it as

such, writing, “So far was he willing to go in the spirit of sacrifice, to preserve the integrity

of that Union.”98 However, our examination suggests that Thornwell’s move toward

emancipation was part of a larger problem his thought was encountering. Namely, the

positions that the South had staked out were difficult to defend without embracing various

95 Farmer, Metaphysical Confederacy, 149. 96 Palmer, The Life and Letters of James Henley Thornwell, 482–83. 97 See W. Harrison Daniel, “Southern Presbyterians in the Confederacy,” The North Carolina

Historical Review 44, no. 3 (July 1967): 250. After drawing a multitude of interesting connections in his essay, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” Freehling fails to see how emancipation emerged out of the thinking of Thornwell. Paul Leslie Garber, “A Centennial Appraisal of James Henley Thornwell,” in A Miscellany of American Christianity: Essays in Honor of H. Shelton Smith, edited by Stuart C. Henry. (Durham: Duke University Press, 1963), 98. Eugene Genovese does the most able job explaining what Thornwell meant (some sort of industrial serfdom that would provide cradle-to-grave security, while respecting the individual and honoring social structure), but even still he does not offer an explanation as to how it could come to be. Genovese, “James Henley Thornwell and Southern Religion,” 8. Robert Lewis Dabney claimed that emancipation should have begun after the defeats at Vicksburg and Gettysburg. While it does not seem that emancipation sentiments were widely expressed in the South, they were nevertheless considered by at least a few leading minds. See Daniel, “Southern Presbyterians in the Confederacy,” 251.

98 Palmer, Thornwell, 483.

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contradictions.99 Thornwell wanted to maintain unity with the North, but also to cut off

communication from critics; to hold African Americans as brothers, but also to steal their

labor and physical freedom;100 to defend the South while admitting that the justifications of

reason are not always to be trusted; and to hate war and chaos, but give no ground on

Southern positions.101 He argued that slavery was easily defensible using a literal

interpretation of Scripture, yet in toying with emancipation, perhaps he recognized that the

spirit of freedom running through the Bible was not an abolitionist’s dream. Moreover, he

himself knew that for the Scriptures to be read rightly, Christ had to be acknowledged as the

true “soul” of the text.

We have seen that while Thornwell asserted that slavery was biblical, the substance of his

reasoning was drawn out of the need to preserve social stability and his view of the nature of

human rights. Thornwell also seemed to have been aware that the weight of the slavery

argument could not be borne on the back of a tenuous appeal to a primordial curse that had

no clear link to the current situation. But by not using the Christological figuration he knew

was necessary, the Old Testament was of little practical use to him one way or the other.

Even without an attempt to read the Old Testament with Christ in view, one can see how

99 As we will see below, in the end Thornwell stopped trying to balance the various contradictions and

simply defended the South, vociferously arguing for war.

100 Southern preachers constantly referred to slave owners as parental guardians; when the slave institution was chastised by Southern preachers it had to do with the parental failures of slave owners, not the institution itself. See Genovese, Roll, Jordan, Roll, 3ff. Children do not have the same rights as parents since children are not the intellectual equals of their parents. For Thornwell, this was how one should consider the issues of rights for African Americans. Yet, no Southern preacher ever seriously considered what it would take for African Americans to be equal with a white person or if the task of grasping “truth” was as difficult as it appeared to be (after all, Protestants felt competent to argue against Rome). However, the perspective that human rights were tied up with intellectual capacity was shared even by African Americans. After the war, there was an explosive growth of schools organized by African Americans since they believed that dignity and value was wrapped up in education (See Cornelius, When I Can Read My Title Clear, 78–84, 141). During the years of slavery, reading had been understood by slaves to be an essential key to freedom, both spiritually and literally. If a slave was able to read, then spiritually they were free, since they could read the Bible; yet reading (and the harder to learn skill of writing) was one step closer to physical liberation. Cornelius describes that “the ability to read the Bible took on a magical significance to religious leaders.” Cornelius, When I Can Read My Title Clear, 93, Thus, even African Americans believed that, to some extent, intellect was an essential basis upon which humanity and equality were to be defined.

101 Garber observed that “Thornwell steadfastly maintained that withdrawal from the Union would bring ‘defeat and disaster, insecurity to slavery, oppression to ourselves, ruin to the state.’” Garber, “Thornwell,” 98.

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Thornwell’s supposed literalism marginalized a number of biblical issues that present

problems for chattel slavery (laws for widows, orphans, and the poor; laws of redemption

and the Jubilee; etc.).

Thornwell’s intellectual skepticism was seen in both his developing epistemology and his

view of civil government. In a letter of 1848 he wrote, “I am afraid that the tendency of

things in this country, is to corrupt a representative into a democratic government, and to

make the State the mere creature of popular caprice.”102 That is, if Thornwell had begun to

mistrust individual reasoning, he certainly did not trust the mass of uneducated men, either.

The safest route, for Thornwell, was to articulate a political philosophy where freedom and

privileges were based on roles. Hence, rights were conditional.103 This was Thornwell’s

strongest argument for slavery. Thornwell, long regarded as the Old South’s greatest thinker,

was also in many ways its most contradictory theologian. Perhaps in this way Thornwell was

truly representative of Southern thought, in that the authority of the Bible, whose central

figure died for others, was upheld against the North to defend the enslavement of millions.

4.6 Thornwell Rises to Defend the South

On the eve of war, Thornwell began to cast off, month by month, any hope for peace. By the

time of his death in 1862, his battle cry for violence would be as loud as anything Palmer

would utter. On November 21, 1860, Thornwell delivered a fast-day sermon titled, “On

102 Quoted in Palmer, Thornwell, 310 (from a letter to Matthew J. Williams from Thornwell at South

Carolina College, July 17, 1848). Genovese states that Thornwell characterized both Church and State as “positive institutions,” meaning that “whatever is not given, is withheld.” Genovese, “James Henley Thornwell and Southern Religion,” 6.

103 As Palmer was driven by the need to protect Southern honor, this seemed true for Thornwell also,

who went about the task by attempting to keep traditional structures and institutions unharmed. If no one was able to claim inherent rights, and rights were based on roles, then no one had the right to move against traditional institutions or move out of a defined role (which was the only place where rights and humanity were identifiable). For example, if one is a father, then one has the rights associated with that role. But to move outside of the family institution is abrogate the rights of fatherhood. Those rights belong exclusively to the role taken or given in that institution. Thus, there are no inherent rights which might allow for the family institution to be challenged. This approach allowed for social coherence and stability based on conservatism and a constricted view of human rights, thereby avoiding the sort of bloodshed seen in other parts of the world.

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National Sins,” (at the same time Palmer was giving his soon-to-be-famous “Thanksgiving

Day Sermon”).104 Thornwell prefaced his sermon with Isaiah 37:1, “And it came to pass,

when King Hezekiah heard it, that he rent his clothes, and covered himself with sackcloth,

and went into the house of the Lord.” In the opening sentence of the sermon, Thornwell

displayed the hesitancy that we observed in his earlier years. He said, “I have no design, in

the selection of these words, to intimate that there is a parallel between Jerusalem and our

own Commonwealth in relation to the Covenant of God.”105 Thornwell’s unwillingness to

draw a parallel between Jerusalem and the South contrasted with Palmer’s confident linking

of Israel and the South and displayed Thornwell’s tendency to avoid figuralism. Thornwell’s

sermon opening exhibited the broad-mindedness that his skepticism invited:

I am far from believing that we alone, of all the people of the earth, are possessed of the true religion. . . . Such arrogance and bigotry are utterly inconsistent with the penitential confessions which this day has been set apart to evoke. We are here, not like the Pharisee, to boast of our own righteousness, and to thank God that we are not like other men; but we are here like the poor publican, to smite upon our breasts, and to say, God be merciful to us sinners!106

He continued with a few observations on the context of Isaiah 37, noting the distress and

calamity that Jerusalem had faced. “Ruin seemed to be inevitable,” so Hezekiah “betakes

himself to God,” rending his clothes and covering himself with sackcloth.107 In drawing

parallels to the approaching distress in the South, Thornwell suggested that a Christian’s

response must be Hezekiah-like. However, Thornwell pulled up short of rushing to this

parallel, saying, “In applying the text to our own circumstances, widely different in many

respects from those of Jerusalem at the time referred to, I am oppressed with a difficulty. . . .

The business of a preacher, as such, is to expound the Word of God. He has no commission

104 James Henley Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” The Collected Writings of Thornwell:

Volume 4, Ecclesiastical, ed. John B. Adger and John L. Girardeau (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1873), 510–48.

105 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 510. 106 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 510. 107 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 510–11.

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to go beyond the teaching of the Scriptures.”108 The “difficulty” Thornwell encountered was

that the current crisis had forced the Southern Christian minister into speaking on political

issues. Fearing he would fall into error, he admitted, “I am oppressed with the apprehension,

that in attempting to fulfil the requisitions of the present occasion I may transgress the limits

of propriety, and merge the pulpit into the rostrum. I am anxious to avoid this error.”109 It is

possible to imagine that Thornwell’s heavy insistence on doctrine did not adequately equip

him to engage with the tumultuous circumstances around him. The hermeneutical approach

he brought to Christianity and culture seemed to be proving thin. Moreover, while he

certainly sought to faithfully read the text of Isaiah 37, his lack of a more robust figural

engagement appears to have caused him to say, essentially, that he cannot say very much.

The tension of doubt that Thornwell created for himself was displayed in other ways.

Thornwell took up the trope of white destiny, but where Palmer was confident in his claims,

Thornwell said, “Geographically placed between Europe and Asia, we were, in some sense,

the representatives of the human race.”110 Palmer never qualified his statements with “we

were, in some sense.” Moreover, Thornwell did not even mention slavery until nearly

halfway through the sermon.111

108 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 511. 109 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 512–13. 110 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 529. 111 Where Palmer insisted early and often that the institution was a “divine trust” aiming toward global

harmony, Thornwell often brought up slavery as only a Constitutional issue and a matter of social stability. This more constricted vision of the institution could potentially keep the North and South from war. Because Thornwell did not fix slavery to an ineluctable providential plan concocted through Genesis 9, he could allow for possibilities that Palmer could not. Thornwell wrote, “But, in truth, even upon the supposition that Slavery is immoral, there is nothing wrong in the oath to observe the Constitution. The responsibility of Slavery is not upon the non-slaveholding States.” Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 531). Thornwell’s point was that even if slavery was a wrong, it should not have allowed for a breakdown of constitutional fidelity between the North and the South since the burden of slavery was on the South alone; it was not something the North needed to concern itself with. Thornwell was able to say that even if slavery was wrong it should not break up the Union, and yet he was still considered a preeminent Southern spokesman. Freehling observes that some Southern intellectuals feared that the masses could not appreciate the subtleties of the slavery argument and the social importance of the institution. Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 384.

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Where Palmer used the specters of European wars and anarchy as battering rams to drive his

point against the Northern mob, Thornwell in this sermon patiently tried to argue that no sane

US citizen should want a pure democracy. Unlike Palmer, Thornwell never seemed to be

inclined toward fear tactics to press his argument. Also, in contrast to Palmer, Thornwell was

never inclined to using proof-texts to support slavery. Instead of using Scripture, he

continued articulating an increasingly sophisticated view of labor and capital. Thornwell

suggested that if labor was free, there would be a tendency for capital to accumulate. “Where

[capital] does not include the labourer as a part, it will employ only that labour which will

yield the largest returns.”112 He continued:

While the capitalist is accumulating his hoards, rolling in affluence and splendour, thousands that would work if they had the opportunity are doomed to perish of hunger. . . . Society is divided between princes and beggars. If labour is left free, how is this condition of things to be obviated? The government must either make provision to support people in idleness; or, it must arrest the law of population and keep them from being born; or, it must organize labour. . . . The only way in which it can be done, as a permanent arrangement, is by converting the labourer into capital; that is, by giving the employer a right of property in the labour employed; in other words, by Slavery. The master must always find work for his slave, as well as food and raiment. The capital of the country, under this system, must always feed and clothe the country.113

Thornwell saw the Northern mob as displaying a sanctimonious arrogance that would ruin

society. He said, “They may say to us, Stand by, we are holier than you; but the day of

reckoning must come.”114 Thornwell went on to say that the African was of the same blood

as the white man. He acknowledged that abuses had occurred in the system but affirmed that

“our slaves are a solemn trust” and “slavery is a school of virtue.”115 Thornwell then stated,

“We are not bound to render unto [the slaves] what they may in fact desire. . . . we are bound

112 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 539. 113 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 540–41. 114 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 541. 115 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 544. That is, “virtue” was taught to the African American

through slavery.

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to render unto them that which is just and equal.”116 Thornwell was trying to appeal to the

nation, since few would deny that it was the responsibility of the white race to give to

inferior races—not what they wanted, but what they ought to have.117

However, Thornwell’s theology and politics were all bent toward protecting Southern

society. He closed his sermon by saying, “If we are to lay the foundations of a new empire . .

.the only pledge of permanent success is the Divine favour,” then explained that “even

though our cause be just. . . . Our State may suffer; she may suffer grievously; she may suffer

long,” yet “it will not follow, even if she should be destined to fall, that her course was

wrong, or her suffering in vain.”118 He was convinced that the South “shall achieve a name,

whether we succeed or fail.”119 This conclusion lacked the rhetorical fireworks displayed by

Palmer, but an increasingly fiery sentiment was emerging in Thornwell’s rhetoric.

A few months later, in January of 1861, Thornwell published “The State of the Country” in

which he discussed the recent secession of South Carolina on December 20, 1860.120 He

continued to defend the South and slavery, arguing that slavery does not impair human

rights.121 He tried to construct a long historical legal precedent for slavery, arguing that “Law

never created it [slavery]. The law found it in existence, and being in existence, the law

116 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 544. There are echoes here of Matthew 7:12. Thornwell

may have been aware of the debate in the North that slavery transgressed the “golden rule.” See J. Albert Harrill, “The Use of the New Testament in the American Slave Controversy: A Case History in the Hermeneutical Tension between Biblical Criticism and Christian Moral Debate,” Religion and American Culture: A Journal of Interpretation 10, no. 2 (Summer 2000): 149–86.

117 Freehling explains that the “exegesis of the Golden Rule, common among Southern clergymen,

highlighted, for Thornwell, the issue between North and South. The South stood for superiors caring for inferiors, as the most able would wish to be cared for it they were the least able. The North stood for war on hierarchy, with the most powerful bearing no responsibility, except for their selfish advancement.” In the view of Thornwell, “Yankee employers [were] infatuated with the cult of selfish individualism.” Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 389.

118 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 547. 119 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” 548. 120 James Henley Thornwell, “The State of the Country,” Southern Presbyterian Review 13, no. 4

(January 1861): 860–89. This was the same issue in which his earlier sermon was published as “National Sins—A Fast-Day Sermon.”

121 Thornwell, “The State of the Country,” 874–76.

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subjects it to fixed rules. On the contrary, what is local and municipal, is the abolition of

slavery. . . . No age has been without it.”122 Therefore, Slavery was the norm, and

abolitionism represented an outlier.

As he drew the article to a close, Thornwell displayed his increasing indignation. He asked

what hope the North could have for victory, and proclaimed “conquered we can never be.”123

He then stated that “we prefer peace—but if war must come, we are prepared to meet it with

unshaken confidence in the God of battles.”124 He dismissed any idea that the South could be

responsible for the crisis, quoting, of all things, Macbeth word’s to Banquo’s murdered

ghost, “Shake not thy gory locks at me; Thou canst not say I did it.”125 We find this move of

Thornwell’s to be strangely akin to Palmer’s appropriation of murderous Hazael (from 2

Kings 8). We can make sense of such a seemingly uncharacteristic move of Thornwell in the

realization that he felt bound to defend the South. He had himself said, midway through the

article, “Nothing more nor less is at stake in this controversy than the very life of the

South.”126

The war had begun in April 1861 and the Presbyterian Church had remained united through

the initial blast. If not for the Gardiner Spring Resolutions, adopted at the General Assembly

in Philadelphia in May, union might have been prolonged, as Thornwell himself stated.127 At

that General Assembly, Gardiner Spring called for a committee to find a way for the

122 Thornwell, “The State of the Country,” 870. 123 Thornwell, “The State of the Country,” 888.

124 Thornwell, “The State of the Country,” 889.

125 Thornwell, “The State of the Country,” 889. Technically, Macbeth only ordered the death of his

one-time friend but did not commit the deed himself. Yet, this technicality had not distracted Banquo from confronting Macbeth.

126 Thornwell, “The State of the Country,” 882. We must disagree with Bozeman who sees Thornwell as somewhat removed from Southern regionalism and bias. We do not find that to be the case at all. Cf., Bozeman, “Science, Nature and Society,” 325.

127 James Henley Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” The Collected Writings of

Thornwell: Volume 4, Ecclesiastical, ed. John B. Adger and John L. Girardeau (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1873), 450.

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Presbyterian Church to express loyalty to the United States. After two resolutions failed, a

third was approved by a vote of 156–66.128 While most votes were sectional, notable

Northerners objected. Charles Hodge filed a formal protest on the grounds that the

resolutions would cause membership in the Presbyterian Church to be based on “a political

question.” Moreover, Hodge observed that the resolutions did nothing for the Northern

Presbyterians; their loyalty to the government not being in question. The resolutions only

acted to incite the Southern Presbyterians. Hodge wrote that the action of the Assembly was

“unjust and cruel in its bearing on our Southern brethren.”129 He emphatically stated, “We

regard this action of the Assembly, therefore, as a great national calamity, as well as the most

disastrous to the interests of our Church.” 130 Hodge was right. The Presbyterian Church

endured the beginning of the war, but it did not survive the Gardiner Spring Resolutions. By

December 1861, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the Confederate States

of America had convened in Augusta. Thornwell’s “Address to All Churches of Christ” was

a statement from the newly born Presbyterian Church in the Confederate States to Christians

throughout the world.131 His paper was unanimously adopted. Erskine Clarke has said that

this address “is perhaps the most important single document in the history of the old

Southern Presbyterian Church,” since it set out succinctly and accurately the Southern

Christian’s position.132

In the “Address” of April 1861, Thornwell drew back somewhat from the hostility he had

displayed earlier in the year. The “Address” functioned as a fraternal and searching apologia

for the existence of the Confederate Presbyterian Church while seeking to clear it of the

128 Joseph M. Wilson, The Presbyterian Historical Almanac and Annual Remembrancer of the Church

for 1862. Volume Four (Philadelphia: Joseph M. Wilson, 1862): 73–74. 129 Wilson, The Presbyterian Historical Almanac, 77. See also Noll, Civil War, 93. 130 Wilson, The Presbyterian Historical Almanac, 77. 131 Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” 446–64. Originally published as “Address of the

Presbyterian Church in the Confederate States of America to All the Churches of Jesus Christ throughout the World,” Southern Presbyterian Review 14, no. 4 (January 1862): 531–49. The article following this in the journal was Palmer’s “The Art of Conversation” discussed in chapter three.

132 Erskine Clarke, “Southern Nationalism and Columbia Theological Seminary,” American

Presbyterians 66, no. 2. (Summer 1988): 129.

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charge of schism from the Northern Presbyterian Church. Perhaps, as he saw the outbreak of

war, Thornwell lamented the consequences for Christian fellowship. However, Thornwell

was most concerned to justify the actions of the South. Thornwell wrote, “We should be

sorry to be regarded by our brethren in any part of the world as guilty of schism. We are not

conscious of any purpose to rend the body of Christ. On the contrary, our aim has been to

promote the unity of the Spirit in the bonds of peace.”133 He compared the separation to the

peaceful separation of Abraham and Lot. Palmer would almost certainly have used the

biblical image to say that the South was Abraham and the North was Lot, wandering off to

Sodom. Thornwell did not do this. In using this comparison, Thornwell apparently only

wanted to emphasize a peaceful separation; nothing more. He went on to express his hope

that the separation would ensure peaceful relations between two antagonistic bodies.

Thornwell said that he did not want the South to regard the North as tyrants or oppressors,

nor did he want the South to be viewed by the North as traitors or rebels. Thus, to remain

charitable toward each other, it was best that the groups separate. This was a far more

generous view of the reasons for division than Palmer ever gave. Thornwell seemed to see

the two factions as brothers who had outgrown their living-space.134 Thornwell here does

employ a figuralism in indicating the correspondence of the relationship between Abraham

and Lot and the North and South. He cannot be faulted for attempting to find a way to avoid

conflict through seeking this precedent in Scripture. The framework Thornwell worked with,

133 Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,”447. 134 Thornwell went on to assert that union perhaps would have continued, except that the Northern

Church had involved itself in the political issue of slavery. Thornwell, having developed his concept of distinction between Church and State, again repeats his opinion that the legality of slavery was not something the church ought to involve itself with. The Bible sanctioned slavery and the Constitution permitted it; thus it was legal. The only responsibility of the church at that point was to ensure that the system was moral and that slaves were evangelized. The Church and State “are as planets moving in different orbits, and unless each is confined to its own track, the consequences may be as disastrous in the moral world as collision of different spheres in the world of matter.” Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” 449. He went on to say, “Had these principles been steadily maintained by the Assembly at Philadelphia, it is possible that the ecclesiastical separation of the North and the South might have been deferred for years to come” (450). Thornwell was referring to the Gardiner Spring Resolutions of the past May. Yet, the charitable Thornwell admitted “that the mere unconstitutionality of the proceedings of the last Assembly is not, in itself considered, a sufficient ground of separation” (451). He was not angry with his Northern brothers, but he said that this decision opened a door for “Christ and Caesar” to be confounded; he feared that this new relationship between Church and State, planets which ought to move in different orbits, would ultimately be destructive (452). Because this was not a path that the Southern Church wanted to follow, “we have quietly separated.” Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” 452.

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on display here, appears to be that of a Christian statesman, eager for peace and aiming to

plot events along scriptural lines (if even to a minimal degree). However, like Palmer, he

used a figuralism that had nothing to do with Christ. His reading was more of a geopolitical

peace statement.

However, Thornwell quickly turned to asserting his often repeated idea “that the only rule of

judgement is the written Word of God . . . and [the church] has no right to utter a single

syllable upon any subject, except as the Lord puts words in her mouth.”135 He then said,

relying on his scriptural literalism, that if the Bible had condemned slavery, then the

Southern church would have capitulated and the dispute would have ended, for the church

dared not go beyond the Word of God.136 Yet this was clearly not the case. “Slavery is no

new thing. It has not only existed for ages in the world, but it has existed under every

dispensation of the covenant of grace in the Church of God.”137 Despite slavery supposedly

being ancient and perpetual, Thornwell asserted that the South had a profound love and

respect for the slave. In fact, the entire system is “benevolent . . . [and] without it we are

profoundly persuaded that the African race in the midst of us can never be elevated in the

scale of being.”138 We could pause here and ask: Would a figural reading that engaged the

crucified Lord have caused someone like Thornwell to arrive at different conclusions? That

is, would a Christocentric type of figuralism have made him something of an abolitionist? As

we have seen, Thornwell had responses to this very line of questioning. His answer would

have been that slavery is permitted in the Scriptures and a supposed “spirit” of the text that

suggests otherwise undermines the authority of the Bible and reason’s ability to arrive at any

definite truth claims. Thornwell was clearly right in saying that slavery is permitted in the

Bible. We imagine that it would have been unlikely for Thornwell to have advocated for

abolitionism even with a figuralism that engaged Christ. Thornwell only seemed to toy with

emancipation as a potential bargaining chip for peace and stability.

135 Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” 456. 136 Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” 456. 137 Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” 457. 138 Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” 460.

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Thornwell drew the “Address” to a close, writing, “We have now, [Northern] brethren . . .

opened to you our whole hearts upon this delicate and vexed subject. We have concealed

nothing.”139 He then said, “We leave the matter with you. We offer you the right hand of

fellowship. It is for you to accept it or reject it. We have done our duty. We can do no more.

Truth is more precious than union.”140 The last line summed up the position of the entire

South. “Truth,” as perceived by them, was more precious than union.

During the same December 1861 meeting, Thornwell drafted, submitted, and then rescinded

a very short (page and a half) “Valedictory Letter.” The letter displayed a generosity and

openness that both he and the South had moved beyond. Thornwell stated, “The brethren of

the Church of the North had erred, but they were men, and to err belongs to man. It does not

become us to scorn one another.”141 Thornwell wrote that the Southern church “freely and

cheerfully” forgave all wrongs done to it.142 Yet, as noted, Thornwell withdrew the letter.143

As the war moved into 1862, Thornwell defended the South with a virulence that rivalled

Palmer. He wrote an essay titled “Our Danger and Our Duty” in March 1862, which saw

further publication and dissemination throughout the summer.144 If the article had not had

Thornwell’s name on it, one could have believed it to have been written by Palmer.

139 Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” 462. 140 Thornwell, “Address to All Churches of Christ,” 463. 141 James Henley Thornwell, “Prefatory Note to Valedictory Letter,” The Collected Writings of

Thornwell: Volume 4, Ecclesiastical, ed. John B. Adger and John L. Girardeau (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1873), 438.

142 Thornwell, “Valedictory Letter,” 465. 143 This is not to say that Thornwell was willing to do anything to preserve the Union. He was not. In

fact, he was eager to take the opportunity to rightly establish the Confederacy and to correct the faults in the Union. Maddex writes that Thornwell “asked the 1861 Assembly to propose an amendment to the Confederate Constitution to recognize, ‘Jesus Christ, as King of kings’ and ‘ordain that no law shall be passed by the Congress . . . inconsistent with the will of God, as revealed in the Holy Scriptures.’ The Union, he argued, had failed because it had been a secular nation; the Confederacy should be an officially Christian country.” Due to a lack of unanimity, “Thornwell agreed to bring up his proposal at a later Assembly. After his death in 1862, followers kept alive his views.” Jack P. Maddex “From Theocracy to Spirituality: The Southern Presbyterian Reversal on Church and State,” Journal of Presbyterian History 54, no. 4 (1976): 445.

144 James Henley Thornwell, Our Danger and Our Duty (Columbia, SC: Southern Guardian Steam-Power Press, 1862).

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Thornwell played on widespread Southern fears: that the North was scheming to plunder the

South; that the South was an Eden which must be defended; that the North needed the

South’s property to keep it from insolvency; that the North was a military despotism; that the

North had trampled the Constitution under their feet; that the South was the true heir of the

Revolution which Washington bled for; that the South had a “sublime trust” to protect; etc.145

We have sufficiently rehearsed these arguments in the writings of Palmer. Yet, it is striking

to read them coming from Thornwell with the same animosity. He went on to encourage the

Confederate Army toward its murderous duty, stating that a “man who stands back from the

ranks in these perilous times… is a dead fly in our precious ointment.”146 Thornwell

continued this call to violence, saying that the war will demand using any means necessary to

accomplish victory. He wrote, “We must be prepared to extemporize expedients. We must

cease to be chary, either about our weapons or the means of using them. . . . the enemy must

be conquered.”147 In the past, Thornwell had wished to avoid the sort of chaos and bloodshed

which occurred during the French Revolution, but he re-evaluated that event.148 If the French

revolutionaries would have had God on their side and not been pagans, they would have

won. He wrote, “France failed, because France forgot God.”149 He then stated that if the

South would hold fast to the Lord, it would win the contest.

Thornwell ended the essay by listing a number of ancient pagan battles where men fought

valiantly. As he had reassessed the French Revolution, so here he recast these pagan wars,

saying, “Let us imitate, in Christian faith, this sublime example. Let our spirit be loftier than

that of the pagan Greek, and we can succeed in making every pass a Thermopylae, every

145 Thornwell, Our Danger and Our Duty, 3–5. 146 Thornwell, Our Danger and Our Duty, 8. 147 Thornwell, Our Danger and Our Duty, 9. 148 See Fox-Genovese and Genovese, Mind of the Master Class, 11–68. They note that Thornwell was

disgusted by the French debacle: “The decades-long critique of the French Revolution of 1789 reinforced the celebration of slavery as the world’s great conservative republican social force” (53). Thornwell himself said, “[The French] have the elements of a noble character; but their atheism, idolatry, and philosophy, prevent them from being developed.” Palmer, The Life and Letters of James Henley Thornwell, 284.

149 Thornwell, Our Danger and Our Duty, 12.

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strait a Salamis, and every plain a Marathon. We can conquer, and we must.”150 This is a

profoundly disappointing statement from Thornwell, as it displayed all the simplistic

rhetorical moves of Palmer and none of the elevation and tension toward which Thornwell

had previously, it seemed, always aimed.151 It was also his last major statement, as he passed

away August 1, 1862.152 He seems to have died with the tensions inherent in his thought and

theological commitments still unresolved.153 As we observed with Palmer, the starting point

for Thornwell did not appear to lead to the hoped-for results. His hermeneutical method

rejected early methods of reading the Scripture. He had an admittedly complex approach to

the Bible. He used a literal approach, yet at times he incorporated a humanitarian concern for

individuality and freedom. He also stressed the importance of doctrinal beliefs articulated

through a Baconian methodology (which would supposedly provide a form of truth that was

more capable of being universally recognized).154 However, Thornwell’s lack of figural

engagement may have been a significant factor contributing to his failure to more thoroughly

engage the Bible and apply it to his circumstances. In the end, he relied upon social-political

arguments to sort through the crisis of slavery and war.

150 Thornwell, Our Danger and Our Duty, 13. “We must” inevitably conquer because we, the South,

are Christian. “Under God, we shall not fail. If we are true to Him, and true to ourselves, a glorious future is before us” (14).

151 Contra, Noll, Civil War, 23, who stated that Thornwell was notable for arguing for secession as a “strictly constitutional step.” While this was true at times, a deep current of emotion in defense of Southern honor in Thornwell should not be overlooked. To understand how this sentiment could have arisen in a seemingly detached and logical thinker, compare Eugene D. Genovese, “The Chivalric Tradition in the Old South,” The Sewanee Review 108, no. 2 (Spring 2000): 188–205.

152 The war years would also take Thornwell’s son, who was shot by a Yankee in 1863. Palmer, Thornwell, 519–21.

153 Genovese, Roll, Jordan, Roll, 45, perceptively notes that the Southern system was inherently

contradictory. The South aimed to maintain a system of labor arrangements that were ancient (blended with a medieval paternalistic romanticism), while promoting an individualistic and market-place economy. Whether or not the Bible sanctioned some form of slavery, modern society would not tolerate this contradiction any longer.

154 See Thornwell, “The Office of Reason,” 1–33.

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4.7 Summary

Having examined the hermeneutic, methodology, and thought of James Henley Thornwell,

we can draw seven main conclusions. First, while he articulated a Baconian biblical

hermeneutic and theological methodology that claimed to be stable and universal in

application (similar to the articulation of natural law Palmer employed), the results of his

efforts were thoroughly partisan. Second, while he asserted that the institution of slavery was

scriptural by way of a literal reading, he failed to engage many scriptural texts and themes

(even on the literal level) that would have challenged the institution of chattel slavery.

Rather, his most substantial arguments in favor of slavery revolved around concepts of

owned labor and social stability. He seemed to be aware that the Bible was often not, in fact,

the best ground from which to defend the peculiar Southern institution. Third, while

Thornwell also claimed to rely heavily on doctrine to secure the Southern church’s position,

and while his writings do contain substantial doctrinal works, none of them are used by

Thornwell to explicate the South’s position. He could say “Beyond the Bible she can never

go, and apart from the Bible she can never speak” yet, as with Palmer, at the moment of

greatest need the Bible was of no practical use for Thornwell.155 Rather, the Bible and its

doctrines were used as rhetorical devices to keep criticism at bay.156

Fourth, while Thornwell said that his intention was not “to speculate” or offer “opinions”,

this is precisely what he did. Instead of developing a universally recognizable biblical or

doctrinal argument, in practice Thornwell employed a biblical literalism and political-

philosophical argument that only an adherent of the Southern position would have assented

to. His argument concerning the nature of human freedom and the optimal social

arrangement was applicable only in the South. Fifth, Thornwell was known as an evangelical

preacher of the gospel, and he believed that African Americans were descendants of Adam

155 Thornwell, “Relation of the Church to Slavery,” 384. See also Westerkamp, “Thornwell, Pro-

Slavery Spokesman,” 56. 156 Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” 402–406, presents a more

optimistic view of Thornwell, since believing that had his life been extended, he would have cheered the changing social landscape. That may be, but it is speculation. Freehling does not take into account the “Address to All Churches” or Our Danger and Our Duty. These two late public statements by Thornwell reveal him to be entrenched in the Southern position and worldview.

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(and, hence, of the same blood as Christ). For Thornwell, this actually secured the institution

since pagan nations were blessed by their exposure to Christianity, even if in shackles. If

African Americans were not of the same blood, for Thornwell, this would lessen the

justification for slavery since then it would be mere barbarism with no remainder of

paternalism and instruction.157 While this strange line of thinking certainly has a rationale to

it, we note again the tension in Thornwell between the Bible and the good of society. We are

suggesting that when this tension was pressed to the breaking point, Thornwell move back to

a virulent Southern position. As was true of Palmer, Jesus seemed to be of no use to

Thornwell at the point of greatest crisis. Thornwell encountered problems around capital and

labor, human rights, status in society between various classes, and civil war, but it does not

appear that he ever incorporated or applied what Christ had done when he had encountered

comparable issues (e.g., the extent of the rights of his disciples against those who threatened

them, internal division and betrayal, etc.). Why was this the case? Admittedly, crafting a

political vision where one is willing to die for one’s enemies is at best difficult and at worst,

possibly unrealistic (which raises the larger question of how a Christian is supposed to

interact with the political world; a question we cannot answer here). But we would also say

that Thornwell and Palmer began with a well-intended but deeply problematic hermeneutical

framework that, over time, could not come through on its lofty vision of universal, certain

truth through Baconian reasoning. Sixth, despite Thornwell’s sophistication, both he and

Palmer arrived at the same conclusion: Southern land and institutions must be defended,

violently if necessary. Seventh, all of this constrains us to say that there was a significant

drive to defend the South that was motivating Thornwell. This principle subtly guided many

of his movements until it finally revealed itself in a ferocious regionalism at the end. Unlike

Palmer, the motive for Thornwell’s defense of the South might appear somewhat unclear.

Palmer had a universal historical vision of the coming kingdom that would be ushered in by

the South and the slave system, but Thornwell did not present anything like this. Rather,

157 Thornwell, “Sermon on National Sins,” The Collected Writings of Thornwell: Volume 4,

Ecclesiastical, 542: “If the African is not of the same blood with ourselves, he has no lot nor part in the Gospel. The redemption of Jesus Christ extends only to those who are partakers of the same flesh and blood with Himself. . . . If he is not descended from Adam, he has not the same flesh and blood with Jesus, and is therefore excluded from the possibility of salvation. Those who defend Slavery upon the plea that the African is not of the same stock with ourselves are aiming a fatal blow at the institution, by bringing it into conflict with the dearest doctrines of the Gospel. To arm the religious sentiment against it is to destroy it.”

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Thornwell seems to have been willing to give a great deal of ground in order to maintain

peace. However, when peace was no longer an option he seemed to have reacted with

indignant self-interest regarding Southern life and land. A hint of this indignation had raised

its head earlier in his debate with the Presbyterian churches in Scotland and Ireland.

As we have seen above, I am suggesting that possibly, an important reason why the tensions

in Thornwell’s understanding of slavery between a hard literal reading of the Bible and his

humanitarian concerns were unresolved (and finally broken) was because his reading of the

Bible and his understanding of the human person were not thoroughly bridged by the person

of Jesus Christ. He depended upon the Bible as absolute authority, yet the person of Christ

did not often interact with his literal reading of passages having to do with slavery. On the

other hand, he did understand that all humanity was born from Adam and created in the

image of God in Christ. However, this only allowed for a further justification of slavery (and,

surprisingly enough, if humanity was all connected to Adam, slavery would be

unjustifiable!).

In earlier struggles with the nature of truth and the Roman Catholic Church, Thornwell

showed that he was aware that without a Christocentric reading the Bible could be lost to the

individual. He knew that there is simply too much information in the text that has no relevant

application to contemporary society unless it is bridged by figuration. Thornwell also knew

that such figuration ought to be oriented around Christ.158 He also seemed to have known

better than to employ the same sort of hapless figuration as Palmer. However, in the end, he

did not rely on the Scriptures to make his argument. We saw this in his 1862 sermon. In the

moment of greatest need, the Bible was not the light by which he led the Southern

Presbyterian Church. Instead, he relied exclusively on socio-political arguments.159

158 In his essay on Baconian methodology Thornwell comes close to suggesting that the Old Testament

must be read Christologically. Thornwell, “Office of Reason,” 14 (see the discussion on pages 105–109 in this chapter). However, he never thoroughly pursues this interpretive direction. Also, Thornwell, The Collected Writings of James Henley Thornwell, Volume 2: Theological and Ethical, ed. John Adger (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1871), 131.

159 As suggested above, we do not regard his fleeting embrace of emancipation to signify any

substantial difference in his approach to Scripture or the human person. We view this move rather as an expediency toward avoiding war and preserving stability—two things that cohere with his views of Scripture and humanity (i.e., the Bible is presenting a pattern that best allows for the spread of Christianity and social

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In our examination of Palmer, we saw how a figuralism apart from Christ is potentially

dangerous, as the images in Scripture can be bent toward an agenda exclusive of scriptural

concerns. In our examination of Thornwell, we have seen how, on the other hand, a lack of

figural engagement with the Scriptures severely hindered his ability to address contemporary

events through an engagement with the Scriptures. That is, Palmer read the Bible with a

figuralism absent of Christ and emerged with a twisted reading; Thornwell read the Bible

with a literalism absent a thorough interaction with the person of Christ, and emerged in the

end with a Bible that did not seem to serve his political purposes. Both men, during a time of

extreme need and trauma, displayed a conspicuous lack of thinking through what the Savior

himself might have had to say about their circumstances (at what would seem to be the very

moment he should be called upon). What we have not yet seen is what a figural interpretation

of the Scriptures that vigorously engaged with the suffering savior might have looked like. In

chapter five we turn to the African American community, who provided their own unique

reading of the Bible during this national crisis.

cohesion, which are primarily accomplished by hierarchy). This also explains why he dropped the issue of emancipation when it appeared that it would not accomplish its desired end.

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Chapter 5

Contrasts from the North and African Americans

We have examined two important case studies in nineteenth century Southern hermeneutics

and methodology: Benjamin Morgan Palmer and James Henley Thornwell. This chapter will

seek to offer contrasts in the interpretive approach of those from the North and among

African Americans. First, we will contrast the approach of Palmer and Thornwell with a

Northerner and fellow Presbyterian, Robert Livingston Stanton. Second, we will do the same

with African Americans, mostly drawing on the voices of slaves and former slaves. As we

have observed in the above chapters, the hermeneutic articulated by Palmer and Thornwell,

which sought a scientific and universal reading of Scripture (supposedly freed from

metaphysical assumptions), proved deeply problematic. There were a number of reasons for

this, including their need to defend the South’s honor, a problematic interpretive tradition of

Genesis 9, the pugnacity brought on by war, etc. We also observed the conspicuous absence

of any thorough interaction with the person and work of Jesus Christ in their engagement

with Scripture related to slavery and the national crisis. This was revealed in the flawed

figuralism of Palmer and in the literalism of Thornwell. It seems likely that their poorly

constructed hermeneutics may have contributed to significant ethical problems regarding the

treatment of physical bodies and their increasing advocacy of war. In this chapter, we will

examine not only the hermeneutics of Stanton and various African Americans, but also

observe whether their views of Scripture were consistent with their ethical applications. We

will particularly ask whether an important Northern Presbyterian and the voices of published

African Americans reveal that they read the Scriptures and examined the crisis through a

Christological lens, making Jesus Christ a central figure in their interpretive approach. We

will then see how their respective hermeneutical approaches may have influenced their

responses.

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5.1 Robert Livingston Stanton’s War Against Palmer and Thornwell As a fellow Old School Presbyterian and contemporary of Palmer and Thornwell, Robert

Livingston Stanton was well acquainted with both men, and responded to their writings.

While there was plenty of Northern criticism directed at the South and Southern ministers, no

one else singled out Palmer and Thornwell as Stanton did, especially not from within the

Presbyterian camp. However, for all Stanton’s disagreement, his ethical conclusions were not

vastly different from those of Palmer or Thornwell. We will offer a theory as to how

someone who so completely disagreed with Palmer and Thornwell could, in the end, apply a

strikingly similar ethic.

Stanton was a Northern Presbyterian minister but had spent time in New Orleans and

Mississippi.1 He was aware of the most significant essays and sermons of both Palmer and

Thornwell, and vociferously denounced them both. Stanton explicitly named them as

significantly responsible for the national conflict and the ecclesial division, writing, “The

clergy . . . led the way, and they are no doubt justly held to a higher responsibility for it than

any other class of men.”2 He acknowledged the genius of Thornwell and referred to Palmer’s

persuasive rhetoric as his “eloquent utterance of treason.”3 He asserted that the perpetuation

of African American slavery, not states’ rights, was clearly the reason for the rebellion.

Stanton argued that national treason and ecclesial disunity were inherently evil. He began to

formulate his main points against Palmer and Thornwell in a sermon dated September 26,

1861. Later, in 1864, Stanton wrote a sizable monograph of 562 pages, expanding his earlier

argument.

1 For helpful background information on Stanton, see Timothy F. Reilly, “Robert L. Stanton,

Abolitionist of the Old South,” Journal of Presbyterian History 53, no. 1 (Spring 1975): 33–49. 2 R. L. Stanton, The Church and the Rebellion: A Consideration of the Rebellion against the United

States; and the Agency of the Church, North and South, in Relation Thereto (New York: Derby & Miller, 1864), 42.

3 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 169.

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Stanton’s 1861 sermon was given while he was pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in

Chillicothe, Ohio and was prompted by Lincoln’s call for a day of fasting and prayer. In his

sermon, Stanton conceived of the nation as one man that needed to seek repentance to obtain

God’s favor, especially because of sins like ingratitude, greed, and Sabbath breaking.4 He

went on to say, “We are seeking to maintain our honor, our glory, our good name, and even

our existence, among the nations of the earth.”5 To do otherwise would be to merit the

contempt of the entire world and the displeasure of God. Toward the end of the sermon he

said “My love of country is the prompting motive,” and that mothers must give up their sons

and wives must release their husbands and “bid them haste to the battle-field, to the field of

glory and of death if need be.”6

In this sermon, Stanton stated that prior to Palmer’s “Thanksgiving Day Sermon,” New

Orleans had been against secession.7 Yet Palmer “mounted the very crest of the coming wave

and became there the King of the storm.”8 Stanton hinted that Palmer also may have

influenced South Carolina to secede (occurred one month after Palmer gave his sermon).9

Stanton said of Thornwell and Palmer, “One holds the pen of a ready writer and wields the

sabre of a keen dialectician. The other, for the eloquence of impassioned declamations, has

few equals in Church or State.”10 Speaking of the power of the Southern clergy to influence

matters of State, Stanton said, “They have waved their magic wand and twined these leading

multitudes into the bloody path of rebellion.”11 In an appendix attached to the transcript of

4 R. L. Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation: A Discourse, Delivered on the Day of Fasting,

Humiliation and Prayer, Recommended by the President of the United States, September 26, 1861 (Cincinnati: Moore, Wilstach, Keys & Co., 1861), 11, 13.

5 Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 24. 6 Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 35. 7 Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 32. 8 Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 32–33. 9 Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 32. 10 Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 33. 11 Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 33.

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the sermon, he cited Columbia’s Southern Presbyterian journal which boasted, “This

revolution has been accomplished mainly by the Churches,” to which Stanton added, “[The

Southern Churches] have assumed the responsibility, and they rejoice in the work of their

own hands.”12

Nowhere in the sermon did Stanton mention the name of Jesus Christ. Both Palmer and

Stanton sanctioned violence against their opponents to restore honor. Yet, where Palmer

constructed a large part of his argument from an Old Testament figural vison aimed to

defend Southern honor, Stanton constructed his based on the need to preserve the Union. The

values of both men, however, were essentially the same: they both argued that violence was

necessary to protect the status quo. Indeed, both believed that the preservation of their

respective governments was essential to their progress and blessing in world history. Stanton

did not examine how God might work through suffering and humiliation (as in the cross).

The similarities outweigh any noticeable differences between Stanton and Palmer.

Stanton’s 1864 monograph (The Church and The Rebellion: A Consideration of The

Rebellion Against the Government of the United States; and the Agency of the Church, North

and South, in relation thereto) lampooned the Old Testament exegesis of Southern ministers.

He wrote, “But seriously,—Do we need any better evidence that the leaders of the rebellion

are demented, than that here furnished, in such religious rhapsodies as these leading divines

indulge in?” Stanton was aware that some in the South viewed themselves as righteous

Israel, Lincoln as oppressive Pharaoh, and Jefferson Davis as the new Moses.13 He

challenged the leaders of the South (naming Lee and Palmer, among others) to act out their

biblical confidence. He suggested that, like Joshua at Jericho, the Southern leaders should act

as priests and make an ark containing the Confederate Constitution overlaid with

Confederate Scrip (since gold would be scarce in the South), and march around the Northern

armies. Surely God would cause the North to fall.14 However, Stanton did not provide a

12 Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 48. 13 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 302.

14 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 299–300.

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sustained Old Testament exegesis of his own.15 For example, he did not offer an alternate

interpretation of Genesis 9 or directly counter the exegetical arguments offered by Palmer.

Instead, Stanton’s main lines of argumentation maintained that first, rebellion is evil; and

second, that the Presbyterian General Assembly’s official precedents were decidedly against

slavery.16 He devoted nearly 100 pages to tracing Presbyterian antislavery resolutions in

Synods and General Assemblies through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. He made

the point that, until about thirty years before the war, the entire Presbyterian Church had

recognized that the current manifestation of slavery was without biblical warrant and

represented an ongoing evil.17 Although Stanton’s failure to counter more thoroughly the

biblical arguments of Palmer or the evils of slavery might seem odd to us, when Stanton

emphasized the evil of rebellion, he was well within the spectrum of contemporary Northern

responses to the crisis. Other notable Old School Northern Presbyterians were approaching

the issues in like manner. R. J. Breckinridge, in January 1861, delivered a sermon titled,

“The Union To Be Preserved,” where he stated that “the first and greatest of these evils that

we beseech God to avert, and that we should strive with all our might to prevent, is the

annihilation of the nation itself.”18 In his sermon, he repeatedly mentioned the responsibility

of South Carolina, home of Palmer and Thornwell, for instigating the evil of disunion.

The fear of division was so strong that although Henry J. Van Dyke attacked abolitionism as

rooted in evil, he said of Thornwell and Palmer “My soul is knit to such men with the

sympathy of Jonathan for David.”19 Some New School Presbyterians more directly attacked

slavery. For example, Tayler Lewis of Union College directly criticized Van Dyke in a

sermon titled, “Patriarchal and Jewish Servitude No Argument for Slavery.” In a significant

15 See Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 293–95, 302. 16 He had raised the issue of State and Church precedents against slavery in the appendix to the sermon

in 1861. Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 44–47. 17 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 363–451; also, throughout the text. 18 Robert J. Breckinridge, “The Union to Be Preserved,” in Fast Day Sermons: or The Pulpit on The

State of the Country (New York: Rudd and Carleton, 1861), 100. 19 Henry J. Van Dyke, “The Character and Influence of Abolitionism,” Fast Day Sermons, 153.

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passage, he based his abolitionist claims on the Incarnation, writing, “In view of the amazing

thought that Christ should stoop so low to lift us up; how strange that we should be then

thrusting down a portion of our fallen brotherhood.”20 However, many ministers in the North,

across denominations, were not calling for emancipation early in the war.21 Their concern

was the social chaos and rebellion. Similarly to Stanton, other ministers deplored rebellion as

the greatest sin since it was against divinely established authority and would result in social

anarchy (which is also why many took issue with the Abolitionists). Thus, war was justified

to maintain order.22

Moorhead recounts how some in the North held extreme millennial views and believed that

Northerners had been called on to fight the decisive war for the coming kingdom.23 While

emancipation was part of this effort, it was but a small piece of the approaching millennial

hope. The larger vision centered on social stability and progress which would thrust America

into its destined prominence, and toward this end, “violence was a necessary tool.”24 As

Moorhead writes, “Right order had to assert itself, the problem of slavery had to dissolve, the

nation had to become the embodied Kingdom of God on earth.”25 Stanton falls squarely

within the Northern spectrum of opinions. When he specifically referenced Palmer’s

“Thanksgiving Day Sermon,” he described the call to rebellion as “steeped in sin, guilt, and

crime . . . and an exhortation to sin.”26

20 Tayler Lewis, “Patriarchal and Jewish Servitude No Argument for American Slavery,” Fast Day

Sermons, 186. 21 George Fredrickson, “The Coming of the Lord: The Northern Protestant Clergy and the Civil War

Crisis,” Religion and the American Civil War, 110–30, ed. Randall M. Miller, Harry S. Stout, Charles Reagan Wilson (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 118; see also the 1861 sermon by Episcopalian Francis Vinton, “Irreligion, Corruption and Fanaticism Rebuked,” Fast Day Sermons, 247ff.

22 Fredrickson, “The Coming of the Lord,” 120, 122. 23 James H. Moorhead, American Apocalypse: Yankee Protestants and the Civil War, 1860–1869 (New

Haven: Yale University Press, 1978), 42ff. 24 Moorhead, American Apocalypse, 51 25 Moorhead, American Apocalypse, 128.

26 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 169. As in his sermon, Causes for National Humiliation, he again

noted how Palmer’s work pushed Louisiana in the direction of secession when the vote of the people was initially against it. Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 163.

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While engaging with Palmer’s concept of Providence, Stanton was again taking part in a

larger conversation. Stanton observed that Palmer based much of his argument on a

particular concept of Providence (namely, that the South ought to fight to preserve what God

had providentially bestowed upon it). He argued that if Palmer had held a more appropriate

concept of Providence, he would have seen that Providence was working to rid the nation of

the evil of slavery. Stanton wrote that Palmer should have “bowed to these events, and

detected in their occurrence some unsoundness in his own providential theory.”27 Instead,

Palmer’s twisted theological concepts “led [the South] to form to themselves a theory of

providence,—a path for God to walk in,—which exactly chimed in with their plans.”28

According to Stanton, Palmer had created a conceptual world where God had to conform to

the Southern tradition. Stanton was concerned that slavery come to an end, but he had larger

concerns over the fate of the nation and the right interpretation of Providence.29

Stanton also engaged with the writings of Thornwell. He recognized that Thornwell’s

Declaration of the Immediate Causes (January 1861) “was regarded by Southern statesmen

as by far the ablest paper written on the subject [of secession].”30 Stanton stated, however,

that Thornwell’s sincerity did not “relieve his criminality. He was a minister of the Gospel,

of the highest ability and influence. He was largely responsible for bringing the Church . . .

to ‘aid’ in the horrid work of treason, rebellion, and war.”31 Again, Stanton’s concern was

centered around division and rebellion. He believed that the gospel ought to be inherently

unifying, but that Thornwell, by means of his genius, had distorted it into something

demanding violence.

27 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 290. 28 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 292. 29 See Van Dyke, “The Character and Influence of Abolitionism,” Fast Day Sermons, 128ff; Ben

Wright and Zachary W. Dresser, Apocalypse and the Millennium in the American Civil War (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2013), 1ff; George C. Rable, God’s Almost Chosen Peoples: A Religious History of the American Civil War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010), 196; Mark A. Noll, The Civil War as a Theological Crisis (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 75ff; Lewis O. Saum, The Popular Mood of Pre-Civil War America (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1980), 3ff.

30 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 158. 31 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 161.

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Unsurprisingly, Stanton closed The Church and The Rebellion with a call for national unity

through violence. Although he was aware that some might not wish to use violence against

the South, he insisted that “even though some measures of its policy for these ends may not

be approved. Any other principle than this has in it the germ of anarchy and ruin.”32 In the

very last sentence he quoted Proverbs 10:7; Stanton cursed the traitors, saying, “LET THE

MEMORY OF THE WICKED ROT!”33

This brief examination of Stanton reveals some regional differences between his work and

that of Palmer and Thornwell. Stanton provided a compelling argument against slavery based

on Presbyterian precedent and tradition. Nevertheless, Stanton’s understanding of what was

at stake (national honor and world history) and his solution to the problem (a call for war)

were the same as Palmer’s. Although Stanton criticized the Southern ministers’ approach to

interpreting the Old Testament, he did not flesh out a viable alternative. Indeed, when

Stanton quoted Proverbs 10:7, he weaponized it in a method similar to that frequently used

by Palmer. Stanton was aware that the gospel was something that accomplished

reconciliation by absorbing violence, not by causing it. Yet, he, like others in the North,

seemed to be so infuriated with the South over what their rebellion was doing to the future of

American and the coming Kingdom that he promoted the exact opposite of what he knew the

gospel called for. When, toward the end of his sermon in September of 1861, he said that his

“love of country is the prompting motive,”34 it pointed to the fact that just like preachers in

the South, Stanton in the North had bound his Christianity up so thoroughly with the future

of the Union that any threat to it resulted in his promoting an ethic that demanded physical

harm be afflicted upon others. We do not find in Stanton any attempt to read Scripture or

current events with the cross even marginally in view.

32 Stanton, Church and Rebellion , 557. 33 Stanton, Church and Rebellion, 562. 34 Stanton, Causes for National Humiliation, 35.

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5.2 African Americans and the Civil War

This final section will observe the ideas circulating in one community that offered a

decidedly different hermeneutic in mid-nineteenth century America: African Americans from

the South.35 We will draw mostly on the songs and writings of slaves and former slaves and

will encounter a vastly different approach to the crisis. African Americans operated from a

position of exile, which resulted in substantially different hermeneutical understandings of

Scripture. This in turn seems to have resulted in very different ethical conclusions. We will

first examine general reactions expressed by African Americans in response to white

Christianity. Then we will focus more specifically on African American interactions with the

Bible. Finally, we will examine possible reasons why only a few African Americans engaged

in retaliatory violence, while the majority chose a different option.

Although in the antebellum period African Americans living in the South did not have the

benefit of education enabling them to develop a critical hermeneutic, it seems that the

circumstances of slavery and oppression drove them to develop a surprisingly complex

scriptural worldview. Many were drawn to the motifs of suffering and waiting for the release

from suffering found in the biblical narratives and prophetic works of the Old Testament. In

particular, they made much use of the deliverance by Moses and the trials of Israel. They

were also drawn to similar themes in the New Testament and were especially inspired by the

trials of Jesus and the deliverance by Christ depicted in the book of Revelation.

Many African Americans before and after the war seemed to be able to pursue an ethic far

less embittered than we might have expected in light of the rhetoric of other participants in

the struggle. Of course, the formidable white power structure and culture of patriarchal

dependency necessitated a complex and, at times, submissive interaction with white

Christianity. But this does not tell the whole story; other slave societies had witnessed violent

35 The distinction between African American voices North and South is important. The South and

North had not only created different cultures for whites but also for African Americans. For example, in the North there was a wide-ranging response by Old School and New School African American Presbyterian ministers over the schism of 1837. Such would have been highly unlikely in the South. Moses N. Moore Jr., “Revisiting the Legacy of Black Presbyterians,” The Journal of Presbyterian History 84, no. 1 (Spring—Summer 2006), 37–44.

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uprisings.36 Thus, while the psychology of power and patriarchy explain something of the

mindset of the Southern slave, African Americans were also a profoundly religious group.

They were not merely driven into a corner, but intentionally carved out a path for

themselves. The hermeneutic many African American Christians developed to understand

Scripture provided them with unique responses to the wrongs committed against them. Peter

Randolph (ca. 1825–1897), freed after his owner’s death, wrote, “It had been argued by some

that, if the Negroes were set free they would murder and kill the white people. But instead of

that, they were praising God and the Yankees for life and liberty.”37 It is the origins of this

reaction, to praise and not to kill, that we wish to probe.

5.2.1 Literal Preaching Their poverty and lack of education did not hinder African Americans living in the

Antebellum South from believing there was a gulf between what they understood as true

Christianity and what Southern whites understood it to be. Frederick Douglass (1818–1895),

in the appendix to his Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, wrote,

Between the Christianity of this land and the Christianity of Christ, I recognize the widest possible difference—so wide, that to receive the one as good, pure, and holy, is of necessity to reject the other as bad, corrupt, and wicked. To be the friend of the one, is of necessity to be the enemy of the other… Indeed, I can see no reason, but the most deceitful one, for calling the religion of this land Christianity… I am filled with unutterable loathing when I contemplate the religious pomp and show, together with the horrible inconsistencies, which every where surround me… Dark and terrible as is this picture, I hold it to be strictly true of the overwhelming mass of professed Christians in America.38

36 Eugene D. Genovese, Roll, Jordan, Roll: The World the Slaves Made (New York: Vintage Books,

1976), 168ff. The most notable was the Haitian revolution led by Toussaint L’Ouverture in the late eighteenth century.

37 Peter Randolph, From Slave Cabin to Pulpit (Chester, NY: Anza Publishing, 2004), 31.

38 Frederick Douglass, Frederick Douglass: Autobiographies, ed. Henry Louis Gates Jr. (New York:

Literary Classics of the United States, 1994), 97, 99.

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Douglass singled out ministers repeatedly in this appendix and, while the South came in for

the harshest evaluation, he meant his words to apply to the Christianity of both “north and

south.”39 Douglass believed that a version of Christianity which argued for the biblical

legitimacy of slavery was, in fact, not Christianity at all.40 At the heart of his opinion was his

recognition of significant differences among the various interpretations of the foundational,

shared biblical text. For Douglass, having a Bible and being a minister did not mean that one

was a Christian, or that one should be viewed as a representative of Christianity. He believed

it was necessary to first be “good, pure, and holy,” and only then would one be able to make

appropriate use of the Scriptures and function rightly in the office of minister.41 At the end of

their study on biblical interpretation in slave narratives, Powery and Sadler recognized what

Douglass was implying: “People cannot determine how to live and act ethically only by

reading the Bible.”42 What Douglass had realized was that prior to their reading of the Bible,

pro-slavery Southerners had first developed commitments that were harmful to others, and

these were then read into the text.

Other Southern American slaves expressed similar thoughts.43 Speaking of one of his

owners, Randolph said, “Sometimes he would go to church and preach to his slaves. I have

39 Douglass, Narrative of the Life, 100.

40 See Zachary McLeod Hutchins, “Rejecting the Root: The Liberating, Anti-Christ Theology of

Douglass’s Narrative,” Nineteenth-Century Literature 68, no. 3 (December 2013): 292–322. Hutchins argues that Douglass had, to some degree, “rejected Christ and the Bible as integral components of an inherently oppressive system,” and embraced a far more radical vision of liberation. Hutchins, “Rejecting the Root,” 312. We are not entirely convinced of this opinion, but we do recognize the radicality of Douglass’s rejection of white Southern Christianity. See also Richard Yarborough, “Introduction: Frederick Douglass and Theology,” Nineteenth-Century Literature 68, no. 3 (December 2013): 287–91; Richard Newton, “The African American Bible: Bound in a Christian Nation,” Journal of Biblical Literature 136, no. 1 (Winter 2017): 221–28. Newton, drawing on nineteenth century African American sources, argues from a contemporary perspective that, in effect, there are two Bibles in America.


42 Emerson Powery and Rodney S. Sadler Jr., The Genesis of Liberation: Biblical Interpretation in the Antebellum Narratives of the Enslaved (Louisville, Westminster John Knox, 2016), 172.

43 Particularly useful are Peter Randolph, From Slave Cabin to Pulpit (Chester, NY: Anza Publishing, 2004); Harriet Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (n.p.: Dover Thrift Edition, 2001; Reprint of Boston 1861 edition); Henry Bibb, Narrative of the Life and Adventures of Henry Bibb, An American Slave (CreateSpace Independent Publishing, 2014). Booker T. Washington, Up From Slavery (New York: W. W. Norton and Company, 1996).

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heard him myself, but, my readers, it did seem like mocking God for such as he to stand up

and preach.”44 He then argued that there was a way to know what true religion was. After

referencing the story of Jesus reading Isaiah 61, which proclaimed liberty to the captives

(Luke 4:18–19),45 Randolph wrote, “This ought to be the work of ministers and the churches.

Anything short of this is not the true religion of Jesus.”46 When Randolph heard white

ministers defending the status quo and preaching “Servants, obey your master,” it did not

matter that these same ministers were quoting the Bible.47 For Randolph, “The Gospel was

so mixed with slavery, that the people could see no beauty in it, and feel no reverence for

it.”48 He recognized that something else was necessary to have an accurate reading of the text

that went beyond a bare reading of the text.

Palmer or Thornwell would likely have accused the former slave of moving past the literal

words of the Bible into an anarchic spirit of the text.49 But it is not quite so easy to be rid of

44 Randolph, Slave Cabin, 90.

45 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach the Gospel to the poor. He

hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted; to preach deliverance to the captive, and recovering of sight to the blind; to set at liberty them that are bruised, and to preach the acceptable year of the Lord.” Randolph was quoting the KJV.

46 Randolph, Slave Cabin, 105. 47 Randolph, Slave Cabin, 109–10.

48 Randolph, Slave Cabin, 110. Cf., Katherine Clay Bassard, “Crossing over: Free Space, Sacred Place

and Intertextual Geographies in Peter Randolph’s ‘Sketches of Slave Life,’” Religion & Literature 35, no. 2/3 (Summer – Autumn 2003): 113–41.

49 Cf. Alicestyne Turley, “Spirited Away: Black Evangelicals and the Gospel of Freedom, 1790–1890” (PhD Diss., University of Kentucky, 2009), 19. Whether such a reading of the Bible might lead to anarchy or not, Lincoln perceived that the pro-slavery argument was utterly illogical. In a mere few lines, he tore apart the reasoning of enslavement, writing (perhaps in 1854), “If A. can prove, however inconclusively, that he may, of right, enslave B.—why may not B. snatch the same argument, and prove equally, that he may enslave A?— You say A. is white, and B. is black. It is color, then; the lighter, having the right to enslave the darker? Take care. By this rule, you are to be slave to the first man you meet, with a fairer skin than your own. You do not mean color exactly?—You mean the whites are intellectually the superiors of the blacks, and therefore have the right to enslave them? Take care again. By this rule, you are to be slave to the first man you meet, with an intellect superior to you own. But, say you, it is a question of interest; and, if you can make it your interest, you have the right to enslave another. Very well. And if he can make it his interest, he has the right to enslave you.” Abraham Lincoln, Selected Speeches and Writings, ed. Roy P. Basler (New York: Literary Classics of the United States, 1992), 92. While it is well known that Lincoln saw the politics of emancipation as far more complicated, we would like to observe that if Thornwell was a compromised version of what the Enlightenment could be, Lincoln was an example of the best that it could be. With devotion to the Declaration of Independence

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the subtle sophistication that Randolph displayed in his writings. Randolph did not avoid the

text, nor did he accuse the Southern ministers of not preaching from the text. Rather, he

accused them of something more fundamental: their entire approach was a failure. This was

what wrecked both their reading of the Bible and its application.

Reflecting on his conversations with a white minister from Richmond, Randolph wrote, “He

believed slavery to be right and a divine institution, because the Bible supported it. He was

not particular in quoting that passage, that God had made of one blood all the nations of the

earth, or where Christ teaches, ‘that we must do unto our neighbors as we would have them

do unto us.’”50 We see Randolph’s contention was not with the literal interpretation of

selected texts that were applied to slavery. Rather, he asked whether this minister completely

understood the larger story of salvation as seen through the work of Christ.

5.2.2 The Larger Biblical Narrative In striving for a fuller engagement with the entire message of Scripture, Douglass suggested

that, clearly, those who ought to benefit from the suffering servant depicted in Isaiah and

embodied in Jesus were the suffering slaves. He implied that the slave experience had driven

his people toward an immediate identification with Christ, and that this automatically made

them better readers of Scripture. Randolph also wrote, “[The slaves] wanted one who could

preach without fear, not only on obedience but on love, the Fatherhood of God, and the

Brotherhood of man, and how Christ came to deliver the captive, and set the bondman

free.”51 Randolph perceived that Christ was not merely what the slaves wanted or needed, but

that his incarnate work was the key to understand how God (or Providence) was working in

the world; namely through brotherhood and liberty, not the perpetuation of a stratified

society. Powery and Sadler compared the slaves’ understanding to that of the white

and believing that the preservation of the Union of a just and free humanity was the world’s best hope, enslavement made no sense to him.

50 Turley, “Spirited Away,” 40 (see also pp. 20, 33, 94).

51 Turley, “Spirited Away,” 47.

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Southerners: “Despite the lack of religious education, many of the enslaved believed

differently. They could not accept their condition as divinely ordained.”52

Henry Bibb (1815–1854), who was born into slavery and escaped to Canada, arrived at

similar conclusions. Like Douglass, he did not try to argue that pro-slavery arguments were

not based on the biblical text.53 However, Bibb witnessed many African Americans turn

away from Christianity because of white preaching. Bibb concluded that if Christian

preaching was turning people into pagans through the use of Scripture, there must be

something lacking in the preaching of the text; something related to the way the literal words

alone were being used.

5.2.3 Slave Education

Former slaves were aware that something was amiss, and not only because white preaching

did not present them with a deliverer Christ; white owners actually discouraged slaves from

reading Scripture itself. Referring to white attitudes toward slaves, Bibb wrote, “If they are

found to be very intelligent [capable of reading and writing], this is pronounced the most

objectionable of all other qualities connected with the life of a slave.”54 Douglass likewise

said that most owners were not inclined to educate their slaves since “A nigger should know

nothing but to obey his master—to do as he is told to do. Learning would spoil the best

nigger in the world… if you teach that nigger (speaking of myself) how to read, there would

be no keeping him. It would forever unfit him to be a slave.”55 The discouragement of

52 Powery and Sadler, Genesis of Liberation, 117.

53 Bibb, Adventures of Henry Bibb, 24. See also Roger W. Hite, “Voice of a Fugitive: Henry Bibb and

Ante-Bellum Black Separatism,” Journal of Black Studies 4, no. 3 (March 1974): 269–84, who details the important work of Bibb to create a separate economic identity for blacks in Canada. John R. McKivigan describes the tension between Bibb and Douglass over the attempt to smuggle Bibles into the South. Douglass was vehemently opposed to the idea. John R. McKivigan, “The Gospel Will Burst the Bonds of the Slave: The Abolitionists Bibles for Slaves Campaign,” Negro History Bulletin 45, no. 3 (July–August–September, 1982): 62–64.

54 Bibb, Adventures of Henry Bibb, 101. 55 Douglass, Narrative of the Life, 37. Yet, the laws regarding slave literacy were not always as

draconian as owners or overseers made them seem. Literacy laws were harshest in Virginia, North and South

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literacy caused many to realize that white preaching was engaged in manipulation of the text

and did not reflect the true content of the Bible.

5.2.4 Physical Harm More than the manipulation of education, the fact that violence was justified by slave-owning

Christians caused some to believe that white Christianity was a lie. Remembering one

terrible incident, Douglass wrote, “I have seen [my master] tie up a lame young woman, and

whip her with a heavy cowskin upon her naked shoulders, causing the warm blood to drip;

and, in justification of the bloody deed, he would quote this passage of Scripture—‘He that

knoweth his master’s will, and doeth it not, shall be beaten with many stripes.’” [Luke

12:47]56 Later Douglass would write, “For of all slaveholders with whom I have ever met,

religious slaveholders are the worst.”57

Carolina, and Georgia. “Interestingly, [slaves] inaccurately reported similar laws in other states where these laws did not exist.” However, “Slaves who could read did risk grim punishments. . . . While it was not true that amputation was a legal penalty, the belief in its use was widespread.” Janet Duitsman Cornelius, When I Can Read My Title Clear (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina, 1992), 64, 65–66). This shows that the world the slaves inhabited was not only oppressive but also filled with frightening confusions. Despite the obstacles and horrors, Cornelius shows how reading was reverenced by the slave community. Noah Webster’s “blue-back” speller was, second to the Bible, the most common book in the average white home (selling over twenty million copies in the nineteenth century). For slaves, Webster’s little book held out the hope of reading and some level of freedom (intellectual or physical). “Former slaves recalled a reverence for the speller which was surpassed only by their regard for the Bible” (70, 71). South Carolina (Palmer and Thornwell’s home state) was always one of the most restrictive. When a South Carolina lawyer, Robert Fair, argued that slaves ought to be taught to read, saying that it would be better to risk a slave rebellion than the wrath of God, he was strongly opposed. In fact, a responding article appeared in the SPR (Palmer and Thornwell acting as two of the editors) with bitter criticism against Fair. Cornelius, When I Can Read, 138, 139. Albert Raboteau also recounts the great desire of the slaves to read the Bible. He cites a South Carolina missionary who described them in 1862 as having almost a “superstitious regard for letters.” Albert J. Raboteau, Slave Religion: The “Invisible Institution” in the Antebellum South (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 240, See also Janet Cornelius, “‘We Slipped and Learned to Read:’ Slave Accounts of the Literacy Process, 1830–1865,” Phylon 44, no. 3 (Third Quarter 1983): 171–86.


57 Douglass, Narrative of the Life, 68, a few lines prior he said, “I assert most unhesitatingly, that the

religion of the south is a mere covering for the most horrid crimes.”

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Harriet Jacobs (1813–1897), who escaped unimaginable degradation, likewise described this

disheartening inconsistency in white Christianity.58 She wrote, “My mistress had taught me

the precepts of God’s Word: ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.’ . . . But I was her

slave, and I supposed she did not recognize me as her neighbor.”59 Jacobs was able to

confidently reject a literal reading of the Bible as presented to her by a white woman since it

did not embody the corresponding spirit of the text. During another incident, when Jacobs

was pressured by her owner to submit to his desires, she tried to keep him at bay by quoting

Bible verses that condemned adultery. He responded by saying, “How dare you preach to me

about your infernal Bible!... What right have you, who are my negro, to talk about what you

would like, and what you wouldn’t like. I am your master, and you shall obey me.”60

Moments like these convinced the slaves that the white approach to Christianity was deeply

problematic—if it was Christianity at all. Indeed, there appeared to be two Bibles: one that

presented a spiritually absent Christ and kept African Americans powerless; and another that

had a Christ present in its pages and offered deliverance and brotherhood.61 Many slaves,

despite being in a situation that appeared to be one of complete subjection and reduction,

were confident in their critique of Southern Christianity.62

58 Cf., Jennie Miller, “Harriet Jacobs and the ‘Double Burden’ of American Slavery,” International

Social Science Review 78, no. 1/2 (2003): 31–41, who describes the additional exploitation and abuse of being a female slave.

59 Jacobs, Incidents, 15.


61 Although I have not seen it used in the Old South, cf., Select Parts of the Holy Bible for the use of Negro Slaves, in the British West-India Islands (London: Law and Gilbert, 1807).

62 Jacobs, like Douglass, often recounted the hypocrisy of white Southern Christianity. For example, she wrote, “There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the south. If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the treasury of the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is called religious. If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, the church dismiss him, if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, it does not hinder his continuing to be their good shepherd,” Jacobs, Incidents, 64.

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5.2.5 Slave Baptism We observed in the introduction how masters feared “the egalitarianism implicit in

Christianity.”63 The fear of equality was particularly manifest in relation to baptism, which

led many slaveholding Christians to demand laws explicitly denying that baptism altered the

social status of a slave.64 Palmer did not seem to have spent much time drawing out the

implications of baptism.65 However, in a notable passage, he wrote that baptism causes “the

spiritual body of Christ” to be “undeniably one.”66 Yet, his mention of a “spiritual body” was

an important qualification. For Palmer, perhaps unsurprisingly, baptism does not heal visible

and physical divisions. He leaves it for the millennium to bring about “the obliteration of

those broader and deeper denominational lines.”67 As an monogenist, Palmer would have no

problem assenting to a common spiritual Christian body for both white and black.68

However, his understanding of the division between the invisible and visible body of Christ

would have prohibited him from drawing any ethical conclusions from baptism that would

affect the physical bodies of African American Christians. (Thornwell would undoubtably

follow the same line of thinking.) Such was not the case for African Americans. They saw

baptism as a visible and physically unifying element. Indeed, the event of a slave baptism


64 Raboteau, Slave Religion, 99. See also Travis Glasson, “‘Baptism doth not bestow Freedom’:

Missionary Anglicanism, Slavery, and the Yorke-Talbot Opinion, 1701–30,” The William and Mary Quarterly 67, no. 2 (April 2010): 279–318. For a very critical examination concerning the origins of racism in baptism and the ongoing problems of white Christianity, see Katie M. Grimes, “Breaking the Body of Christ: The Sacraments of Initiation in a Habitat of White Supremacy,” Political Theology 18, no. 1 (February 2017): 22–43.

65 As observed in chapter two, for Palmer, assent to doctrine, not the sacraments, was of prime importance for sanctification. Moreover, his emphasis on what can be universally known and verified also seems to have caused a similar erosion concerning the practical importance of things like the Trinity and the Incarnation.

66 Thomas Cary Johnson, The Life and Letters of Benjamin Morgan Palmer (Richmond, VA: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1906), 314.

67 Johnson, Palmer, 314. 68 Monogenists ascribe to the belief that all humanity originated in Adam, as opposed to those

espousing polygenism.

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generated considerable excitement for the community. One man claimed that people would

happily walk ten miles to attend the service, saying “Us didn’t miss it.”69

5.2.6 Booker T. Washington Booker T. Washington (1856–1915) was one of the more complicated African American

figures in the post-bellum South.70 While he also acknowledged that freedom must be

physical, “freedom of the body in this world,”71 and that there were problems with white

Christianity, he did not share the animosity of Douglass. Washington wrote, “There was no

feeling of bitterness. In fact, there was pity among the slaves for our former owners.”72

69 Raboteau, Slave Religion, 228. 70 W. E. B. Du Bois was an early and substantial critic of Washington. Du Bois perceived that there

were two broad reactions among African Americans after slavery. The first was an attempt to assert the rights of African Americans through self-assertion and, even if slowly, political rights. The second reaction was self-assertion alone, described by Du Bois as “adjustment and submission” (W. E. B. Du Bois, “Of Mr. Booker T. Washington and Others,” in Up From Slavery, 180). Du Bois believed that while Washington’s intentions at education and labor skills were commendable, he was far too submissive and docile. Du Bois (and others with him) believed that Washington was ultimately harmful to the cause of African Americans. For Du Bois, in order for freedom to be real and lasting, political rights must be had and the South must come in for “candid and honest criticism, to assert her better self and do her full duty to the race she has cruelly wronged and is still wronging” (W. E. B. Du Bois, “Of Mr. Booker T. Washington and Others,” in Up From Slavery, XXX). The North was not guiltless in his eyes either. It was “co-partner in guilt” with the South. Until Washington and the nation began to head in the direction of honest conversation and political equality, Du Bois felt that “we must unceasingly and firmly oppose [men like Washington]” (W. E. B. Du Bois, “Of Mr. Booker T. Washington and Others,” in Up From Slavery, XXX). This agenda was not something Washington was against, but it is true that political advocacy was not his first priority. Washington, working in Alabama, was trying to be useful to African Americans North and South, while also constructing a bridge with the white South. This inevitably caused him to look compromised at times.

71 Washington, Up From Slavery, 15.

72 Washington, Up From Slavery, 15. A few pages earlier in his book, he wrote, “One may get the idea, from what I have said, that there was bitter feeling toward the white people on the part of my race… In the case of the slaves on our place this was not true, and it was not true of any large portion of the slave population in the South where the Negro was treated with anything like decency… As a rule, not only did the members of my race entertain no feelings of bitterness against the whites before and during the war, but there are many instances of Negroes tenderly caring for their former masters and mistresses who for some reason have become poor and dependent since the war” (12). This was not an isolated response. Genovese records that this seemingly strange reaction by former slaves occurred among many in the South. Genovese, Roll, Jordan, Roll, 123ff.

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Considering what African Americans had and would continue to endure, this seems a

sentiment out of tune with the reality of the lives of African Americans in the South.

Washington was a child when he was freed at the end of the war. Of his years in slavery, he

wrote, “My life had its beginning in the midst of the most miserable, desolate, and

discouraging surroundings. This was so, however, not because my owners were especially

cruel, for they were not, as compared with many others.”73 He was later able to attend the

Hampton Institute in Virginia, a college for the education and training of African American

freedmen under the leadership of Union General Samuel Armstrong, who had led African

American units during the Civil War. Washington would later found a similar institution in

Tuskegee, Alabama. Washington never heard Armstrong utter a bitter word against the

Southern white man; this lack of bitterness over the war left a lasting impression on

Washington.74 He emulated Armstrong’s response toward those whom he had once opposed.

Washington portrayed him as a representative of a different type of white Christianity than

that which Douglass had described. Armstrong was “a type of that Christlike body of men

and women who went in the Negro schools at the close of the war by the hundreds to assist

in lifting up my race.”75 Washington said that it was at Hampton where, “I got my first taste

of what it meant to live a life of unselfishness, my first knowledge of the fact that the

happiest individuals are those who do the most to make others useful and happy.”76 This

became something of a mantra for Washington, repeating it, or similar phrases in his

autobiography.77 In one of the weightiest passages in the book, he wrote,

I would permit no man, no matter what his colour might be, to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him. With God’s help, I believe that I have completely rid myself of any ill feeling toward the Southern white man for any wrong that he may have inflicted on my race. I am made to feel just as happy now when I am


74 Washington, Up From Slavery, 30



77 For example, Washington, Up From Slavery, 30, 66, 104.

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rendering service to Southern white men as when the service is rendered to a member of my own race.78

This sentiment deserves closer attention. How, we might ask, did he come to hold such an

opinion?79 We might suggest a few reasons. Washington had the good fortune to see a

version of white Christianity centered around Christ-like service.80 He was also shrewd. He

knew that Southerners were still afraid of the African Americans, as they feared that former

slaves would become violent or useless. Washington was determined to prove them wrong.

Yet, unlike men such as Douglass and Du Bois, Washington was not as interested in the

political advancement of African Americans. He was criticized for this, even though the

criticism was not entirely justified. He recognized the importance of African American

political enfranchisement. He wrote, “While the Negro should not be deprived by unfair

means of the franchise, political agitation alone would not save him… he must have

property, industry, skill, economy, intelligence, and character, and that no race without these

elements could permanently succeed.”81 It may be that the combination of his experience of

white Christians practicing more healthy forms of Christianity, his inclination toward

shrewdness, and a lack of political ambition turned Washington into someone who was not

interested in fighting.

78 Washington, Up From Slavery, 76. 79 Note the work of other scholars who have also observed the complicated legacy by Washington.

Pamela Newkirk, “Tuskegee’s Talented Tenth: Reconciling a Legacy,” Journal of Asian and African Studies 51, no 3, (2016): 328–45; Newkirk notes that Dubois stated, after the death of Washington, that he was the greatest African American leader since Frederick Douglass. Newkirk, “Tuskegee,” 341. David Sehat, “The Civilizing Mission of Booker T. Washington,” The Journal of Southern History 73, no. 2 (May 2007): 323–62; Sehat considers the final assessment of Washington to be largely a tragedy because by trying to appease white fears and advance African Americans, he ultimately did not speak loudly enough for black enfranchisement. However, Robert J. Norrell, “Booker T. Washington: Understanding the Wizard of Tuskegee,” The Journal of Blacks in Higher Education 42 (Winter 2003–2004): 98–109, sees the legacy of Washington as ultimately positive.

80 One could compare the work by Francis J. Grimké and John B. Reeve, Presbyterianism: Its Relation

To The Negro (Philadelphia: John McGill White & Co, 1897). The work is a sincere attempt to report on the upbuilding of the African American community in Philadelphia through the Berean Presbyterian Church with the hope that such work might be expanded.


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5.3 Scripture: African American Spirituals

We have briefly examined how a few representative African Americans reacted to white

Christianity and began to form their own approaches to religion. We now turn to a more

careful examination of African American engagement with the Bible, particularly through

slave spirituals. Since we do not have access to slave sermons, we must rely on slave

spirituals that have been handed down. Their sermons were extemporaneous, and were

neither written nor published. Indeed, literate black Southerners were discouraged from

producing manuscripts that would have endangered both them and their communities.82

In the chapters above, we saw that readers of Scripture in this era constantly read themselves

into the text. This was also the case with African Americans in their spirituals.83 However,

the way they did this was substantially different than the way white Southern ministers

handled the text. While men like Palmer viewed themselves figurally, as victorious Israel

reborn and heirs of a providentially given land that required defending, most African

Americans viewed themselves in the wilderness, as figurally exiled and sojourning Israelites.

Raboteau writes, “White Christians saw themselves as a new Israel; slaves identified

themselves as the old.”84

82 Turley, “Spirited Away,”138, observes that “the sermons of the Bible became roadmaps to

freedom,” especially the exodus from Egypt and the crossing of the Jordon. Hence the basis of their preaching became from these, as it were, “biblical sermons.” However, when Turley argues for the justified violence from some African Americans (encouraged by the African Methodist Church and its support of people like Denmark Vesey, Turley, “Spirited Away,”62.) and says, “Enslaved African Americans were making every attempt to flee the South and slavery.” Turley, “Spirited Away,” 63), her vision of Southern slavery does not seem to embrace the complexities that Levine and Genovese observe (whom she does not reference), or Booker T. Washington (who was also an A.M.E. member), or those Washington claimed to represent, or the slave spirituals (with which she also does not interact).

83 Raboteau feels that “spirituals are too often seen simply as words … printed on a page” (Slave

Religion, 243). Instead, he suggests that these deceptively simple songs are gateways into the social and religious word of the slaves. Spirituals seemed to have originated through a blend of biblical imagery, Protestant hymns, and African song and dance. Shane White and Graham White, The Sounds of Slavery (Boston: Beacon Street Press, 2005) state that the sound and rhythm of the plantation itself contributed to the creation of spirituals (The Sounds of Slavery, 1). They likewise see the songs of Southern African American as a necessary entry point into their culture.


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Jacobs recounted an incident that suggests that song was one of the fundamental ways the

slave community challenged and overcame the oppressive messages preached by Southern

ministers. She records at length the degrading sermon of a Rev. Mr. Pike who announced,

“You are rebellious sinners… God is angry with you . . . If you disobey your earthly master,

you offend your heavenly Master.”85 The slaves’ response was to be, “highly amused at

brother Pike’s gospel teaching.”86 After the oppressed community mocked the minister’s

exposition, they “went to enjoy a Methodist shout” where they could express themselves in a

unrestricted manner.87 Song was an important way for them to enter into the truth of freedom

in the Scriptures and then apply this freedom through uninhibited singing.

Jacobs also described a time when the town constable (a merciless man who would whip his

fellow church members who were slaves), while holding a Methodist class meeting, asked a

slave woman why she seemed so downhearted. The woman erupted into a heart-rending

lament over the sale of all five of her children, saying, “I’ve got nothing to live for now. God

make my time short!”88 The constable, hiding his laughter in his handkerchief, exhorted her

to pray for “the good of your poor needy soul.”89 To counter his derision, the slave

congregation spontaneously “struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free as the

birds that warbled round us,”

Old Satan thought he had a mighty aim; He missed my soul, and caught my sins. Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! He took my sins upon his back; Went muttering and grumbling down to hell. Cry Amen…

85 Jacobs, Incidents, 59, 60. See also similar accounts in Raboteau, Slave Religion, 213ff. He tells of

Anthony Dawson, who said, “Mostly we had white preachers, but when we had a black preacher that was heaven!” Raboteau, Slave Religion, 234.





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Ole Satan’s church is here below. Up to God’s free church I hope to go. Cry Amen…90

This song provides a window into one of the effective ways the slaves endured oppression.

By identifying themselves as a marginalized biblical community, they believed they would

be victorious against overwhelming powers, which they represented by “Satan” and “the

church here below.”91 The “sins” which ministers constantly piled upon the backs of slaves

(like disobedience or theft) fell on Satan and he went “grumbling down to hell.”

Although the call for justice and retribution was real, it was not immediately a call for

violence against their oppressors. The daughter of a former slave recalled her father singing,

Gwine try on my starry crown, Down by the riverside, Down by the riverside. I aint gwine study war no more, I aint gwine study war no more.92

A variation of this song is recorded as:

Down by the river side, Jesus will talk and walk, Ain’t going to study the world no more,


91 We do not have space to examine them here but note the ways that the slaves found clarity through

the animal trickster and slave trickster stories where the weaker often overcomes the stronger (notably the Brer Rabbit stories). In Black Culture and Black Consciousness: Afro-American Folk Thought from Slavery to Freedom, Levine records Charles C. Jones (minister to slave communities) as saying, “They are one thing before whites, and another before their own color.” Another minister said, “I used to try to learn the ways of these Negroes, but I could never divest myself of the suspicion that they were learning my ways faster than I was learning theirs” (101). After recounting a trickster story involving Rabbit and Wolf, Levine writes, “The weak doesn’t merely kill his enemy: he mounts him, humiliates him, reduces him to servility, steals his woman, and, in effect, takes his place” (111). “Brer Rabbit’s victories became the victories of the slave” (113). Levine makes an important point when he states that “spirit slave songs and slave tales were not separate expressions of diametrically opposite attitudes” (133). The circumstances of the slave placed them in a position where they demanded justice and salvation, but both were hard to come by. However, the slave community kept asserting their rights to both. This occurred in subtle ways like couching their circumstances in biblical figures (not unlike the method employed in Daniel and Revelation) or pastoral figures. Thus, as Levine suggests, the spirituals and the trickster stories are part of one continuum. The evils of Satan and Wolf are both conquered by wise figures (Jesus/God and Rabbit). Lawrence W. Levine, Black Culture, 102–32.

92 Shane White and Graham White, The Sounds of Slavery (Boston: Beacon Street Press, 2005), 61.

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Ain’t going to study the world no more, For down by the river side, Jesus will talk and walk.93

We can see here the slaves asserting their righteous biblical position in their references to the

right to wear a starry crown and walk with Jesus, but this righteousness did not demand a

corresponding right to harm others.

The very structure of slave spirituals reveals an important fact. White Christians’ song lyrics

tended to “take a linear form … a beginning, a main part, and an end; . . . overall they should

‘make sense.’”94 This was not the method employed by the slaves, who were after “the sense

of the experience rather than an account of the experience”; singing allowed them to

articulate a “different way of making sense of the world.”95 The lyrics of slaves’ songs were

circular and thus could be sung for hours on end. During a secretive slave “shout,” this

allowed them to psychologically enter a world different from their day to day experiences.96

This also created a different sense of time, since slave spirituals, in a sense, did not ever end

and could be started at any moment. This allowed many in this suffering community to

construct another reality which contended against the reality pressed upon them by the South.

This alternate concept of time also allowed many slaves to have a sense that biblical

characters were their contemporaries. As Raboteau states, “It was in the spirituals, above all,

that the characters, themes, and lessons of the Bible became dramatically real and took on

special meaning for the slaves.”97 Through song, the African American community was

creating a hermeneutic by which to understand the biblical narrative and embody it.

Raboteau goes on to say, “The lyrics of the songs were acted out or dramatized by the band

93 White and White, The Sounds of Slavery, 62.



96 A “shout” would occur in the woods late in the night. Singers would shuffle in a circle, keeping time

with their feet, gradually drawing themselves deeper and deeper into the moment. This circularity then is seen in both song and dance. See Raboteau, Slave Religion, 225–26.


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of shouters.”98 In this way, the suffering slaves were able to identify themselves with the

suffering Israelites.

White observes that “the most concerted opposition to slave singing came . . . from religious

leaders, whose sense of spiritual decorum it violated.”99 They often described slave spirituals

as “wild… disjointed hymns.”100 What ministers did not understand was that the slave

community was not using song to reflect back on something that had happened or even to

give thanks for a present spiritual benefit, which was the tendency in white Christianity.

Rather, since they did not have a past for which they were overly grateful, nor experienced

many blessings in the present, their songs and dance were a way to physically move forward,

joined by God’s own scriptural people. Although the slaves had no property or freedom, their

songs were capable of embracing the physicality of their existence.

We can see this in a song where, in the face of pain, the slave longs for another home:

My knee bones am aching, My body’s rackin’ with pain, I ‘lieve I’m a chile of God, And this ain’t my home, ‘Cause Heaven’s my aim.101

A similar theme is seen in the following:

I thought I heard them say There were lions in the way; I don’t expect to stay Much longer here. Run to Jesus, shun the danger. I don’t expect to stay Much longer here.102


99 White and White, The Sounds of Slavery, 56. 100 White and White, The Sounds of Slavery, 56.



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During the war, the theme of landless Israel needing deliverance continued:

Oh! Fader Abraham Go down into Dixie’s land Tell Jeff Davis To let my people go. Down in de house of bondage Dey have watch and waited long, De oppressor’s heel is heavy, De oppressor’s arm is strong. Oh, Fader Abraham.103

The slaves saw precedent for physical freedom in the Old Testament, and rejected the notion

of a disembodied freedom. Raboteau states, “The slaves’ identification with the children of

Israel took on an immediacy and intensity which would be difficult to exaggerate.”104 One

spiritual sees the slaves as wandering in the wilderness (but with Jesus):

Jesus call you. Go in de wilderness, Go in de wilderness, go in de wilderness, Jesus call you. Go in de wilderness To wait upon de Lord, Go wait upon de Lord, Go wait upon de Lord, Go wait upon de Lord, my God, He take away de sins of de world. Jesus a-waitin’. Go in de wilderness, Go, etc. All dem chil’en go in de wilderness To wait upon de Lord.105

This message is similarly seen in the following song:

O brothers, don’t get weary O brothers, don’t get weary O brothers, don’t get weary We’re waiting for the Lord We’ll land on Canaan’s shore,


104 Raboteau, Slave Religion, 250. 105 Raboteau, Slave Religion, 254.

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We’ll land on Canaan’s shore, When we land on Canaan’s shore, We’ll meet forever more. What makes ole Satan follow me so? Satan go nuttin’ ‘t all fur to do wid me. Tiddy [Sister] Rosa, hold your light! Brudder Tony, hold you light! All de member, hold bright light On Canaan’s shore.106

The identification with suffering Israel extended toward an identification with the suffering

Jesus, who was the head of this oppressed community.107 This allowed, Raboteau writes, for

Jesus to be an “ever present and intimate friend:”

He have been wid us, Jesus He still wid us, Jesus, He will be wid us, Jesus, Be wid us to the end. In de mornin’ when I rise, Tell my Jesus huddy [howdy] oh; I wash my hands in de morning’ glory, Tell my Jesus huddy, oh.108

This identification with Jesus even extended to his death:

I want to die like-a Jesus die, And he die wid a free good will, I lay out in de grave and I stretches out ee arms, Do, Lord, remember me.109

The marginalization of the Southern slaves seems to have caused them to identify with

marginalized Israel, and this in turn seems to have caused them to identify with a suffering

savior. While this may not seem surprising to us, it is nevertheless striking as we recall that

106 Raboteau, Slave Religion, 256, 257.

107 See Raboteau, Slave Religion, 259.



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any application of the death of Christ to current national events was wholly lacking in the

preaching of white ministers like Palmer and Thornwell.

Raboteau and Levine also call attention to the seeming fusion of Moses and Jesus in a

number of songs. One Union army chaplain expressed concern that the slaves even seemed

to show more deference to Moses than Jesus, as they regarded “Christ not so much in the

light of a spiritual Deliverer, as that of a second Moses who would eventually lead them out

of their prison-house of bondage.”110 It was not that African Americans had no appreciation

for the importance of Jesus’s spiritual work. Rather, they emphasized the need for

Jesus/Moses to follow up on this spiritual redemption with a physical redemption.

Colonel Thomas Wentworth Higginson, in command of an African American Union army

regiment, also noticed how the slaves repeatedly rehearsed the stories of Moses in the Old

Testament and Revelation in the New Testament but “all that lay between, even the life of

Jesus, they hardly cared to read or to hear.”111 While Higginson may have correctly noticed

that slaves were especially drawn to Old Testament stories of liberation and Revelation’s

promise of a new earth, other slave spirituals suggest that his depiction was too simplistic.

Many slaves drew upon a range of important Old Testament figures, which allowed them to

reframe the entire biblical narrative. Stories where the whole person—body and soul—

suffered and was saved, became paramount. In one spiritual we read:

He delivered Daniel from de lion’s den, Jonah from de belly ob de whale, And de Hebrew children from de fiery churnace, And why not every man?112

As Levine writes, “The essence of slave religion cannot be fully grasped without

understanding this Old Testament basis.”113 Levine fails to state, however, that this was also

110 Raboteau, Slave Religion, 311–312. 111 Levine, Black Culture, 50. 112 Levine, Black Culture, 51.

113 Levine, Black Culture, 50.

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true of the rest of American Christianity, North and South, and so he overlooks the

monumental difference between the slave culture and white culture. At the center of the

slaves’ religious worldview was not merely an appropriation of the Old Testament—this

occurred among nearly all readers of Scripture in the nineteenth century. Extraordinarily,

within the seemingly all-encompassing power structure that the slaves inhabited, many were

able to confidently reject the message of white Southern Christianity by identifying, not with

victorious and vengeful biblical images (like most appropriations of the Old Testament), but

with suffering Israel. The message of Christianity was reframed into one that understood God

as deeply concerned for the outsider, the marginalized, and the enslaved.

Not only did this reframing of the biblical narrative allow them to dismiss competing

sermons and worldviews that might have prevailed by sheer force of power, but their

alternate scriptural worldview allowed the Old Testament to shape their understanding of

what Christ could ultimately do for their bodies.114 Levine writes, “It was not invariably the

Jesus of the New Testament of whom the slaves sang, but frequently a Jesus transformed into

an Old Testament warrior whose victories were temporal as well as spiritual.”115 As we

suggested above, there was no dichotomy here between body and spirit. Rather, based on the

very physical work of God in the Scriptures, African Americans assumed that it was only a

matter of time before the spiritual work of Jesus was followed up by a physical work—in this

world or in the world to come.

Although whites interacted with the Bible, they often used it as if it were a book of

precedents. Indeed, one might suggest that, for all their scriptural fidelity, Southern ministers

had difficulty integrating large sections of the Old Testament. For them, the Bible presented

a world prophetically hoped for and now found; a world of Eden lost and regained. Hence,

both Palmer and Thornwell struggled to identify with a suffering and wandering tribe of

114 As shown above, but compare also, Levine, Black Culture, 45, “This attempt to reduce Christianity

to an ethic of pure submission was rejected and resented by the slaves. After listening to the white minister counsel obedience to whites, an old black worshipper in the African Church in Richmond declared, ‘He be d—d! God am not sich a fool!”

115 Levine, Black Culture, 43.

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Israelites (including the sufferings of Jesus).116 Not so for the slaves. When Palmer attempted

to identify with victorious Israel, he tended to move past much of the Old Testament

narrative and the suffering of Christ, as these were impossible to integrate into his figural

vision. However, when African Americans identified with suffering Israel, it was far easier

for them to appropriate the suffering Christ into their figural vision.

Callahan observes that “in the Negro spirituals, the New does not supersede the Old. The two

Testaments, Old and New, are correlated to each other. Moses is not a ‘type’ of Jesus. Both

bear witness—eternally, equally valid witness—to what God has done and is doing in the

world. They are placed side by side with others in the Bible.”117 Callahan states that “Jesus is

the premier figure of speech in the Negro spirituals,” but he qualifies this, saying that this

vision of Jesus was of “the armed Christ of the book of Revelation . . . a venerable biblical

image in black Christianity from the days of slavery.”118 In essence, “Jesus and Joshua are

identical insofar as both insist on justice and judgement. Here we find no dichotomy of the

bloodthirsty Jehovah of the Old Testament and the merciful deity of the New Testament

revealed in Jesus gentle, meek, and mild.119

Callahan may have overstated his argument slightly by implying that African Americans

were using different hermeneutical tools than white Christians. We do not find that to have

been the case, however. There is every reason to believe that white Christians saw the Old

Testament as having equal weight with the New—Palmer certainly operated with that

assumption. In fact, the issue among some white interpreters was not that the Old had been

superseded by the New, but that the Old Testament was allowed an authoritative voice

without thorough interaction with the New. What was unusual in African American readings

116 When, during the war, they viewed loses as the chastisement of God, they were driven to lament

Psalms and other neglected portions of the Bible. Yet, war did not result in a full identification with suffering Israel since it was not a sign of Providence’s disapproval but only a tool to remove the dross of an already favored society.

117 Allen Dwight Callahan, The Talking Book: African Americans and The Bible. (New Haven: Yale

University Press, 2006), 189. 118 Callahan, The Talking Book, 192. 119 Callahan, The Talking Book, 194.

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during this time when white readings were somewhat restricted was the intermingling of

biblical figures across the Testaments. White readings were certainly capable of employing

figuralism between the Testaments. However, African Americans displayed a greater

tendency to do this.

5.4 Violence: African Americans and Retributive Violence

In many cases slaves expressed resentment over what had happened to them, and yet there

seemed to be a relative absence of a desire for retributive violence. Other victimized

communities were known to have entertained thoughts of rebellion and violence, as was the

case in the Haitian revolt and in a number of instances in the Southern American states. One

might wonder how the slaves in the American South largely avoided an inclination toward

violence, while white Southerners easily propelled themselves into it. Although the

sociological and psychological effects of slavery leading to docility cannot be dismissed,

there was also clearly sufficient defiance present in slave culture to allowed them to assert

their individuality. What we are suggesting is that an overlooked factor in allowing the slaves

to avoid violence was perhaps the slave community’s identification with exiled Israel and the

suffering Christ, which became an interpretive matrix to the Bible and the culture. This was a

matrix almost wholly lacking in the thought of Palmer and Thornwell, for whom the

extended possession of land and wealth seemed to demand its violent defense. The

hermeneutic of the African American community seems to have often produced a different

ethical response to their circumstances than what we see among white Christians.

Important features of the African American approach to the Bible were never codified. Yet,

during a short period, a Christocentric, figural hermeneutic, involving profound views of the

body and time existed in American religious life. The hermeneutic developed by slaves has

become a tale of something precious that has been largely lost or silenced in American

Christianity. This was a hermeneutic where the sojourning community of Israel and the

suffering body of Jesus informed one’s reading of the whole Bible, creating a corresponding

patience toward one’s enemy even while demanding freedom. A number of complex threads

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amazingly hold together here: demand for bodily freedom while living in exile; resentment

regarding physical captivity while avoiding retributive violence; and a firm belief that Jesus

saw slavery as unjust, while not taking justice into one’s own hands. However, these threads

were not always easily held together. We saw these threads fray all too quickly for Palmer,

Thornwell, and some representative Northern preachers. We will now expose the truth that

holding these threads together was difficult for African Americans as well.

To confirm that many African Americans did develop a hermeneutic of surprising patience

and endurance, we will close this chapter by examining a few examples of those African

Americans who did not follow the general trend. Some moved toward violence: Denmark

Vesey, Nat Turner, and David Walker. The point of this examination is to emphasize that the

way in which one figurally appropriates the biblical text has a vital connection to one’s

response to the experience of oppression and to one’s attitude towards oppressors. We will

see that some African Americans who did not embrace the sufferings of Israel and Jesus in

their figural reading of the Bible held views about the use of violence as a means of faithful

obedience to God that were similar to those of ministers such as Palmer.

5.4.1 Denmark Vesey In June 1822, former slave Denmark Vesey was charged with attempting to cause an

insurrection in Charleston, South Carolina. It was said that the plot involved “setting fire to

the city of Charleston, . . . slaying all whites, and sailing off to the black republic of Haiti.”120

He and five of his alleged co-conspirators were hanged on July 2. More trials and executions

followed, resulting in the hanging of 22 more slaves, supposed supporters of Vesey. “In

addition, the African Church in Charleston was destroyed.”121

120 Michael P. Johnson, “Denmark Vesey and His Co-Conspirators,” The William and Mary Quarterly

58, no. 4 (October 2001): 915. 121 Jeremy Schipper, “‘On Such Texts Comment is Unnecessary’: Biblical Interpretation in the Trial of

Denmark Vesey,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 85, no. 4 (December 2017): 1032–33.

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Scholars note that knowing the mind of Vesey is “a daunting obstacle” since he left nothing

in his own hand; what is known of him was written by others.122 Yet, some lines of thought

can be traced, particularly regarding his use of the Old Testament. Schipper writes that

“Vesey interprets select biblical texts according to a typology that he uses to justify

contemporary courses of action against the present social order.”123 According to Vesey’s

associate, Rolla Bennett, who was also tried and executed, Vesey believed that as God

commanded the Israelites to cut off “both men, women and children,” so Vesey was

commanded to kill.124 Bennett recalled that Vesey once told him, “We are made free, but the

White people here won’t let us be so—and the only way is to raise up and fight the

Whites.”125

Many years later another associate of Vesey’s, Archibald H. Grimké, looked back in 1901

and attempted to recall Vesey’s approach to the Bible. He remembered that verses from

Joshua and Zechariah were constantly on Vesey’s lips. He said that Vesey, “ransacked the

Bible for apposite and terrible texts. . . . He looked confidently for a day of vengeance and

retribution for the blacks. . . . It will not be denied that Vesey’s plan contemplated the total

annihilation of the white population of Charleston.”126 According to Grimké, Vesey’s proof

text included Joshua 6:21 (where Joshua is commanded to kill every living person) and

Zechariah 14:3 (a prophecy of the Lord warring against nations hostile to his people).

Grimké went on to say that “however shocking and bloody might be the consequences, . . .

such efforts would not only be pleasing to the Almighty, but were absolutely enjoined, and

their success predicted in the Scriptures. . . . and in all his conversations he identified their

122 Johnson, “Denmark Vesey,” 916. 123 Schipper, “‘On Such Texts Comment is Unnecessary,’” 1034. 124 Schipper, “‘On Such Texts Comment is Unnecessary,’” 1037. 125 Johnson, “Denmark Vesey,” 961. 126 Archibald H. Grimké, Right on the Scaffold: or, The martyrs of 1822. (Washington, DC: The

Academy, 1901), 12, quoted in Schipper, “‘On Such Texts Comment is Unnecessary,’” 1036.

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situation with that of the Israelites.”127 Schipper observes that “both biblical texts describe

massacres in cities” and specifically, “Charleston, along with biblical Egypt, Jericho, or

Jerusalem serve as examples of communities facing divine condemnation.”128 Vesey’s

particular identification of Israel seemed to have allowed for his justification of retributive

violence against whites.129

5.4.2 Nat Turner

Delving into the thinking of Nat Turner presents similar problems to that of Vesey. The

Confessions of Nat Turner, the Leader of the Late Insurrection in Southampton, VA was not

penned by the man himself but by an indebted lawyer, Thomas Ruffin Gray, who stood to

make a profit off the sale of the book. The murders committed by Turner and his rebels

shocked the nation and fed into fears of a slave revolt (even if such fears were unfounded130).

Newspapers throughout the country were eager for any new or lurid information, and Gray

127 Douglas R. Egerton and Robert L. Paquette, eds, The Denmark Vesey Affair: A Documentary

History. (Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 2017), 74–75, quoted in Schipper, “‘On Such Texts Comment is Unnecessary,’” 1036.

128 Schipper, “‘On Such Texts Comment is Unnecessary,’” 1037, 1039. 129 A report prepared by the Executive Department of Charleston describes the sentiment of the court

toward those who conspired with Vesey. They were not able to discern a clear strategy from the account of the slaves, nor did they believe that the slaves themselves possessed one, stating, “From the various conflicting statements made during the trials, it is difficult to form a plausible conjecture of their ultimate plans of operation; no two agreeing on general definite principles.” To mitigate fears of a larger slave insurrection the report continued, “When we contrast the numbers engaged with the magnitude of the enterprise, the imputation of egregious folly or madness is irresistible.” That is, the State had little to fear against such a haphazard disturbance since the conspirators hardly knew themselves what they were doing or hoped to achieve. (Executive Department. “Narrative of the Events Comprising the Vesey Rebellion,” 10 August 1822. General Assembly. Governors’ messages. S 165009. South Carolina Department of Archives and History, Columbia, South Carolina).

130 Kenneth S. Greenberg and Nat Turner, The Confessions of Nat Turner and Related Documents,

(Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 1996). For more on Turner, see Makungu M. Akinyela, “Battling the Serpent: Nat Turner, Africanized Christianity, and a Black Ethos,” Journal of Black Studies 33, no. 3 (January 2003): 255–80, who argues that Nat Turner was an example of the African American community organically developing an alternate construction of reality. Anthony Santoro, “The Prophet In His Own Words: Nat Turner’s Biblical Construction,” The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 116, no. 2 (2008): 114–49, believes Turner understood himself as both an instrument of divine punishment and a type of messianic sacrifice.

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seemed only too happy to cash in on this interest. However, Gray does not seem to wholly

exploited Turner’s story. Some things seem to have been faithfully recorded.

Around 2 a.m. on August 22, 1831, Nat Turner and his band began indiscriminately killing

fifty-five men, women, and children, moving from one farm to the next, and recruiting slaves

along the way. By mid-day of the 22nd, there were fifty to sixty insurgents. However, the

local militia had organized itself by the 23rd and captured or killed all the rebels except for

Turner, who hid in the vicinity for two months. He was captured on October 30 and executed

on November 11.131 The violence perpetrated by Turner and his band was extreme.

Virginia’s Governor John Floyd described the carnage: “Men, women, and infants, their

heads chopped off, their bowels ripped out, ears, noses, hands, and legs cut off, no instance

of mercy shown.”132 However, the reprisal by whites against slaves and free blacks seems to

have been disproportionately brutal. A minimum of 120 were killed, nearly all in vigilante

style.

The way in which Turner carried out the murders suggests that he was thinking along lines

similar to Vesey. As Joshua was commanded by the Lord and as Jeremiah prophesied against

corrupt Jerusalem, men, women, and children alike were to die.133 In fact, when Turner had

finished the killing among the neighboring farms, it was said that he was going to lead his

small army against the town of Jerusalem on the east side of the Nottoway River.134 Thus,

Turner may have viewed himself as an agent of divine punishment on a guilty people, just as

God had punished Jerusalem in the Old Testament. One scholar observes that Turner

believed himself to be “an agent of black liberation guided by the hand of God… [he]

likened himself to Christ.”135

131 Greenberg and Turner, Confessions, 3. 132 Greenberg and Turner, Confessions, 19. 133 Greenberg and Turner, Confessions, 20. He or his followers also never “burned a building, raped a

woman, engaged in an act of torture, or undertook the wholesale looting of valuables.” 134 Greenberg and Turner, Confessions, 3. 135 Greenberg and Turner, Confessions, 12.

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In the text of the Confessions, Turner described the biblical visions that spurred him on: “I

saw white spirits and black spirits engaged in battle, and the sun was darkened—the thunder

rolled in the Heavens, and blood flowed in streams—and I heard a voice saying, ‘Such is

your luck, such you are called to see, and let it come rough or smooth, you must surely bare

it.’”136 He believed that the great day of judgment was imminent.137 He claimed to have seen

the blood of Christ, forming like dew and falling back to earth; he also said that he saw

strange symbols in the sky, which were also imprinted on leaves and trees.138 Things in

heaven and on earth seemed to be merging. Then,

on the 12th of May, 1828, I heard a loud noise in the heavens, and the Spirit instantly appeared to me and said the Serpent was loosened, and Christ had laid down the yoke he had borne for the sins of men, and that I should take it on and fight against the Serpent, for the time was fast approaching when the first should be last and the last should be first… Was not Christ crucified?139

Turner envisioned cosmic war that needed to be played out on an earthly stage. For Turner,

the crucified Christ was not one who suffered for his enemies but one who died in battle,

fighting the great serpent. Unlike the slaves either longing for another home or waiting for

the day when this one was redeemed, as in the slave spirituals, Turner seemed to have

released the tension between what was and what was still to come. Heaven and earth were

being fused, and he identified himself as one who was to accomplish that end. Turner’s

vision operated on a much smaller scale than Palmer’s, who also identified the South as an

agent to accomplish God’s consummate plan for world history. Once this vision was

comprehended and the biblical texts were found that justified it, it was necessary to carry it

through at any cost.

136 Greenberg and Turner, Confessions, 46. 137 Greenberg and Turner, Confessions, 47. 138 Greenberg and Turner, Confessions, 47. 139 Greenberg and Turner, Confessions, 47–48.

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5.4.3 David Walker

David Walker (1796–1830) was born in North Carolina a freeman, as his mother was a free

black woman. He moved to Charleston, South Carolina, which had a thriving community of

free African Americans, and became associated with its activist AME church. Toward the

end of his life he moved to Boston, where he published in 1829 his Appeal, in Four Articles;

Together With A Preamble, To The Coloured Citizens Of The World, But In Particular, And

Very Expressly, To Those Of The United States of America. It was viewed as one of the most

incendiary pieces of literature to be penned by an African American at the time.140 While

Walker did not explicitly say, “Slaves Revolt!” the meaning was clear enough to readers,

especially to the Southerners who despised his Appeal. Hence, Walker presented no mere

specter of paranoia but was the very epitome of the black man that the South feared. North

Carolinian Governor John Floyd seemed to believe that Walker’s Appeal, even if it had not

been personally read by Nat Turner, was to blame for the general unease in his state.141

Walker’s Appeal was a wide-ranging pamphlet that sought to attack the hypocrisy of slavery

from a number of different angles. He found it absurd that a supposedly Christian nation

committed such atrocities. Not even ancient pagan nations, he argued, committed comparable

atrocities.142 In fact, in Walker’s view, the sufferings of the slaves were even worse than

140 David Walker, Walker’s Appeal, in Four Articles; Together with A Preamble, To The Coloured Citizens Of The World, But In Particular, And Very Expressly, To Those Of The United States of America (Boston: David Walker, 1830). See Thabiti Asukile, “The All-Embracing Black Nationalist Theories of David Walker's Appeal,” The Black Scholar 29, no. 4 (Winter 1999): 16–24, who suggests that while Walker was contending for his fellow African Americans he might have done better if he had more thoroughly understood the Southern slave culture. See also Hasan Crockett, “The Incendiary Pamphlet: David Walker's Appeal in Georgia,” The Journal of Negro History 86, no. 3 (Summer 2001): 305–18. Peter P. Hints considers Walker’s Appeal a “masterpiece of exhortatory writing . . . whose impact . . . on African Americans can only be compared only to the impact that Thomas Paine’s Common Sense had on white patriots of revolutionary America.” Peter P. Hints, To Awaken My Afflicted Brethren: David Walker and the Problem of Antebellum Slave Resistance (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University, 1997), xiv. Hints provides important background information and a discussion on the legacy of Walker’s Appeal. For more on the impact and legacy of Walker’s Appeal, see Herbert Aptheker, “One Continual Cry,” David Walker’s Appeal to the Colored Citizens of the World (1828–1830): Its Settings and Meaning (London: Humanities Press, 1965); Herbert Aptheker, American Negro Slave Revolts (New York: International Publishers, 1985).

141 Hints, To Awaken My Afflicted Brethren, 153.

142 Walker, Appeal, 3, 11, 45, 46, 49, 59, 60, 78, 81, 84.

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anything Israel experienced.143 He then appeared to entertain the possibility of violence

against white Southerners, when he wrote, “We must remember, that humanity, kindness and

the fear of the Lord, does not consist in protecting devils.”144

In Article III of his treatise, Walker attacked proslavery preachers. He said that white

Christianity was not the pure gospel but had been mingled with “blood and oppression.”

Walker considered the conduct of white Americans to represent the greatest “mockery of

religion” that had ever existed, and expected that divine vengeance would come from God

and then the “tyrants will wish they never were born.”145 The true “gospel,” he stated, was “

of peace and not of blood and whips.”146

Walker also challenged the traditional interpretation of Genesis 9 by white Americans, whom

he considered “our natural enemies.”147 He found nothing in Genesis directly associating

dark-skinned people with either Ham or Cain. Instead, he turned the passage back on white

Christians, saying that one’s connection to Cain was seen in one’s actions, not in a person’s

pigmentation (similar to the early church’s interpretation). He wrote, “Now, I ask those

avaricious and ignorant wretches, who act more like the seed of Cain, by murdering, the

whites or the blacks? How many vessel loads of human beings, have the blacks thrown into

the seas? How many thousand souls have the blacks murdered in cold blood, to make them

work in wretchedness and ignorance, to support them and their families?”148

Toward the end of the essay, Walker returned to the theme of divine vengeance, stating that

some white Americans were so hardened that they “will never be able to repent. God will

143 Walker, Appeal, 11. 144 Walker, Appeal, 28. 145 Walker, Appeal, 49–51. 146 Walker, Appeal, 44. 147 Walker, Appeal, 67. 148 Walker, Appeal, 68.

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surely destroy them.”149 After quoting the Declaration of Independence, Walker opined that

either the Lord or “these very coloured people whom they now treat worse than brutes” will

humble whites.150 As with Palmer, Thornwell, and Stanton, Walker articulated a rationale for

retribution.

One point that we have not raised throughout this thesis (and do not have space to adequately

examine) is that, to some degree, men like Walker and Palmer were right: the biblical God

does violently punish evildoers—across both Testaments. The question as to what this

implies for Christian practice is a valuable one, and we mention it here to show the reader

that we are not dismissing it. However, this thesis is specifically looking into how some

influential Southerners read the Old Testament and how their readings of the Old Testament

in relation to race and slavery were almost entirely devoid of any meaningful interaction with

the person of Jesus.

5.5 Summary We began this chapter by asking how representative hermeneutical examples from Northern

Presbyterians and African Americans contrasted with Palmer and Thornwell. We have seen

that the hermeneutical practices of Northern Presbyterians appear to be very similar to their

Southern counterparts especially as seen in the writings of R. L. Stanton. As Palmer’s

hermeneutical practices seemed to have provided an easy path for the justification of

violence, so likewise we saw that the similar hermeneutics of Stanton allowed for the clear

call for war. We observed that the element common to these two men who opposed each

other (Palmer and Stanton) was the lack of a struggle to read the Scriptures, particularly the

Old Testament, with the crucified Jesus in view. It is impossible to say what would have

149 Walker, Appeal, 78, 79. Observing how his essay is confiscated and reviled in the South, he said,

“Why do the Slave-holders or Tyrants of America and their advocates fight so hard to keep my brethren from receiving and reading my Book of Appeal to them?—Is it because they trust us so well?—Is it because we are satisfied to rest in Slavery to them and their children?—Is is [sic] because they are treating us like men, by compensating us all over this free country!! for our labours?” Walker, Appeal, 82.

150 Walker, Appeal, 86.

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happened had they done otherwise. However, it is highly interesting that we see “enemies”

justifying their calls for war using the same Scriptures. The hypothesis that a failure to

struggle with the crucified Jesus (both in the pages of the Old Testament and in ethical

application) allows an easy justification for war and mistreatment of humankind was further

tested by examining African American writings. We observed that when men like Vesey,

Turner, and Walker sought solutions to their injustices they also came to similar conclusions

as Palmer and Stanton. The three African American men who encouraged violence against

their perceived enemies appeared to have done so, at least in part, by engaging the Old

Testament apart from any interaction with the suffering Christ. It does appear to hold that

when individuals from three vastly different groups (South, North, and African Americans)

failed to read the Old Testament Christologically, a path toward justification for violence was

more easily justified.

We then contrasted this hypothesis by examining representative writings and songs of

African Americans who actively and thoroughly sought to understand the Scriptures and

their circumstances through suffering Israel and suffering Jesus. We saw that a desire for

justice or call for God to defeat the evildoer was most certainly present. Jesus was perceived

as at once suffering savior, as deliverer Moses, and as glorious judge. However, we also

observed that when Jesus was incorporated in their understanding of the Old Testament

(even a rudimentary understanding, which some of the slaves certainly only possessed as

many had no access to a written Bible) and to their circumstances that the outright call for

violence against their oppressors, at least in the present world, was not nearly so great. (It is

not that they did not seek justice, but that God would be the one to avenge.) We see in these

responses that when African Americans rooted themselves in the figural world of suffering

Israel and Jesus their reaction toward their enemies became decidedly different. For many

slaves the image of a warrior Jesus was also bound up with the passage of the suffering

community of Israel through the wilderness. Jesus was a rightful king who would protect his

people, but also a crucified king travelling with an exiled people.

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We conclude this chapter by returning to Frederick Douglass and his brilliant speech on July

5, 1852. He was asked to speak at the fourth of July commemoration by the Ladies’ Anti-

Slavery Society in Rochester, New York.151 He started the speech by acknowledging that the

fourth of July represented a singular day in America’s history for hope and liberation. Then

he began to make a subtle turn through the use of the second person plural pronoun, (using it

eight times in five sentences: “your National Independence . . . your political freedom. . . .

your great deliverance,” etc.152) Waiting until the first quarter of his speech was fully over,

he then shockingly stated, “Why am I called upon to speak here to-day? . . . I am not

included within the pale of this glorious anniversary! . . . The sunlight that brought life and

healing to you, has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth July is yours, not mine.”153

Then, in sentence after sentence, he went on to assert that the vast majority of what white

Christianity taught was a cruel lie. The church, North and South, “has made itself the

bulwark of American slavery.”154 White preachers and their complicity in slavery so

disgusted Douglass that he stated, “For my part, I would say, welcome infidelity! welcome

atheism! welcome anything! in preference to the gospel, as preached by those Divines!”155

Douglass confidently stated that if one were to truly stand with God, then one must also

stand with “the crushed and bleeding slave.”156 Douglass then melded his suffering African

American people into suffering Israel, quoting Psalm 137, “I can to-day take up the plaintive

151 Frederick Douglass, “The Meaning of July Fourth for the Negro,” in Frederick Douglass: Selected

Speeches and Writings, ed. Philip S. Foner (Chicago: Lawrence Hill, 1999), 221–40. 152 Douglass, Selected Speeches and Writings, 222, emphasis mine. 153 Douglass, Selected Speeches and Writings, 227. 154 Douglass, Selected Speeches and Writings, 233. 155 Douglass, Selected Speeches and Writings, 233. To Douglass, slavery was producing quite the

opposite of the progress that Palmer proclaimed. Douglass said, “It fetters your progress; it is the enemy of improvement.” Douglas, Selected Speeches and Writings, 236. One might also observe in the speech that Douglass never made mention of Providence. For Douglass, the Lord seemed to be far too involved with the African American people to abstract him into a theological concept.

156 Douglass, Selected Speeches and Writings, 228.

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lament of a peeled and woe-smitten people! ‘By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down.

Yea! we wept when we remembered Zion.’”157

There was nothing in Douglass’ speech to imply that the proper response to the treatment of

his wronged people would involve violent confrontation. In fact, even in the country that

oppressed his people and in the liberating fourth of July that they could not share, he said, “I

do not despair of this country. . . . I, therefore, leave off where I began, with hope.”158 We

see two things illustrated here: the imaginative and figural identification of the African

American community with suffering Israel, and a call for hope. We are suggesting that this

figuration and response are linked and that the opposite allows for a much easier path of

violence against wrongdoing. Clearly, Douglass had a strong sense of justice and abolishing

evil (not unlike the perceived concerns of Palmer and Stanton). However, his suffering

Israel-centered figuration appears to have pushed him toward a conclusion that allowed for

far more mercy, patience, and hope.

This concluding example from Douglass lends further support for our thesis that a

Christocentric figural reading of the Bible (especially the Old Testament) best allows for a

corresponding Christ-like response to problematic issues. The opposite also appears to hold

true: the absence of Jesus from the Old Testament allows an all too easy violent reaction to

perceived injustice. This appears to be a simple conclusion with obvious application.

However, as we have seen with the popular and influential rhetoric of Palmer, it was neither

simple nor obvious. In fact, the supposed clarity of his Baconian hermeneutic seems to have

allowed for wide and destructive consequences. Moreover, it appears that African Americans

often intentionally read the Bible with the hope of personally encountering God and his

savior, Jesus Christ. In contrast to Palmer, this desire changed how they interacted with the

images of the Old Testament.

157 Douglas, Selected Speeches and Writings, 228. 158 Douglass, Selected Speeches and Writings, 237–38. Even in Douglass’ 1864 wartime speech he did

not wish to see the South trampled and ruined but to see “liberty for all, chains for none; the black man . . . a voter at the South as well as at the North; America his permanent home, and all Americans his fellow-countrymen.” “The Mission of the War” in Frederick Douglass: Selected Speeches and Writings, ed. Philip S. Foner (Chicago: Lawrence Hill, 1999), 632.

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Chapter 6

Hermeneutical Implications and Suggestions Forward

Throughout this thesis I have attempted to examine the hermeneutical practices of Palmer,

Thornwell, and representative examples from Northern preachers and African Americans

from the years around and during the Civil War. The hope was that writings produced during

a time of extreme national stress might reveal with greater clarity the most important

interpretive approaches used in reading and applying the biblical text. We saw that figuralism

was pervasive in interpretive readings of the Bible during this period. While the historical

context of the texts remained important for many, we have also seen that readers of Scripture

easily imported their concerns and those of their community into the text. That is, it was

understood that Israel was important for Israel’s sake, but it seemed to be of greater concern

to understand how the South was Israel, figuratively; this guided what sort of response was

allowed for in the face of Northern hostilities. We suggested that the presence or absence of

Jesus in one’s interpretive framework when reading the Old Testament figurally was decisive

for how Christians at this time responded to the perceived wrongdoings related to slavery,

threats of violence, and war. In this conclusion, we will first summarize our findings in

relation to the use of figural interpretation. Second, we will take one last look at Palmer from

an angle we gave too little space to above: that of pastor. And finally, we will offer some

suggestions on a figural hermeneutic for the contemporary church.

6.1 Reading the Old Testament Apart from Christ First, as we saw, men like Palmer and Thornwell disdained the supposedly non-scientific or

non-historical reading of the Bible common prior to the Enlightenment that they associated

with traditional biblical figuralism. We saw, however, that Palmer nevertheless engaged in a

pervasive figuralism of a sort which was divorced from a scientific and historical foundation.

Thornwell more consistently seemed to avoid the use of figuralism when reading the Old

Testament. Second, we argued that the Baconian hermeneutic, so influential upon Southern

theologians of the time who were aiming at defining universal principles that could be

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observed and assented to by anyone, proved incapable of meeting the demands placed upon

it. That is, despite Palmer’s and Thornwell’s advocacy of a Baconian scientific hermeneutic,

they were not able to produce scriptural readings that were universally acceptable. Moreover,

when Palmer reflexively began reading the Old Testament figurally, his avowed

Baconianism further displayed its weakness. Third, we observed then that the use of

figuralism is necessary for interaction with and broad application of the biblical text. Palmer

intuitively knew this and used it to apply the scriptural text to many ecclesial and social

situations. Conversely, we saw that Thornwell, being a more consistent thinker, never

engaged in significant figural appropriation of the Bible, employing instead a stricter and

more limited literalism. Thornwell also seems to have applied the biblical text far less when

pressed by the national crisis for a response. Instead, he relied on political and philosophical

constructs to advance his arguments.

A significant shortcoming in the use of figuralism that we observed among the Southern

preachers we examined, and some Northern representatives, was the consistent lack of

interaction with the person of Christ, especially his suffering, when reading the Old

Testament. Moreover, even when these white preachers read the New Testament, they often

did so without reference to the Passion narratives. We viewed this as a broken figuralism,

and deeply problematic since it allowed the Old Testament to be brought into contemporary

life without connection to the redemptive thread of Scripture most clearly revealed through

the person of Jesus Christ. If Church is the body of Christ and the Bible is his very Word,

then the most appropriate hermeneutic for a Christian reader would require a consistent

interaction with the person of Christ. To do otherwise (reading the Old Testament apart from

an interaction with Jesus) was to be in danger of reading a Bible that was not his Word. That

is, if the Bible is the Word from Christ to Israel and the Church, then to read that Word apart

from Christ is, in effect, to read a different book. Further, we observed that the use of this

problematic, broken figuralism engendered a tendency toward advocacy of violence against

one’s enemies.

We highlighted how some within the African American community were the only notable

ones offering a figuralism filtered through the person of Jesus Christ. We did not imply that

their readings eliminated all violence since they certainly expected God to judge the wicked

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(and some saw the war as a historical manifestation of that judgement). However, on the

whole, in a time of extreme crisis, their reading of the Bible seemed to be one of the few that

allowed for a more Christ-like (i.e., Christ-figured) response to the injustice. It appears that

the central way that many African American readers bridged the two testaments was linking

figures across time: suffering Israel and the suffering Christ; victor Moses and warrior Jesus.

By viewing themselves as partaking in the full history of Israel (not merely the moments of

conquest that Palmer cherry-picked), they found space to both endure suffering with

Moses/Jesus and demand justice from Moses/Jesus. However, we also saw that when the

Bible was figurally appropriated without any reference to Jesus Christ in the African

American community, their call for retributive violence was similar to the call issued by men

like Palmer, Thornwell, and Stanton.

In conclusion, we would now argue that a figural reading of the Bible is necessary (as

contrasted with the shortcomings of Thornwell); that a figuralism of the Old Testament ought

to interact with the person of Jesus Christ (as contrasted with the failures of Palmer); and that

a useful way to do this was for the church to begin by identifying with the suffering

community of Israel (as seen in the readings of many African Americans).

6.2 Palmer as Pastor This thesis uncovered significant inconsistencies in the hermeneutics of leading Southern

theologians. These inconsistencies allowed for problematic views on how to deal with threats

(from the perspective of either the slave community or the North). As a final example from

the life of Palmer, we could observe the inconsistencies between his polemical and pastoral

writings. Thus, perhaps Palmer was unsurprisingly more aggressive in his sermons and

writings when addressing difficult national issues. One might wonder whether these

inconsistencies were also evident in his pastoral writings. We will see that the failure of

Palmer’s hermeneutic extended here as well: Christ is present, but not a suffering Christ; and

he does not apply this Christ to social issues, but exclusively to the soul.

Most of Palmer’s early writings and sermons were destroyed in a fire during the war, with

the notable exception of the essays in the Southern Presbyterian Review and the documents

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collected by his biographer Thomas Cary Johnson (which were utilized in this thesis). These

are, on the whole, fairly polemical. Beyond what Johnson records, there are no “Sunday

sermons,” from before the war. However, there are a large number of nonpolemical/pastoral

sermons collected after the war that had been preached during the mid-1870’s, as well as a

small collection of pastoral essays written for The Southwestern Presbyterian during 1869–

1870.

The pastoral writings provide another important source of information about a figure who

seems to be a shameless racist, xenophobe, nationalist, and warmonger (if one were to read

only the polemical writings). The striking difference between the polemical writings and the

pastoral writings seems extreme. In fact, had one begun with the pastoral sermons and

essays, it is highly likely that one would view Palmer as a thoughtful, kind, and generous

Christian. Indeed, there are multiple books whose forwards and prefaces from as recently as

2002 and 2014 laud the example Palmer sets in his preaching and sincerity. One wonders if

the gentlemen writing these pieces ever read his acerbic tirades against the North or his

purportedly divinely inspired views on slavery. In an afterword written in 2014 for a

collection of pastoral essays for The Southwestern Presbyterian, Richard D. Phillips (a South

Carolina pastor) recognizes that “some readers might think Benjamin Morgan Palmer an

unlikely man to serve as a model for Reformed ministers and scholars in the twenty-first

century . . . his name is strongly associated with the Southern cause in the War between the

Sates, which many will consider a liability.”1 However, having acknowledged this apparently

minor fault, Philips goes on to say, “Palmer is a shining instance of a servant of Christ who

conquered through faith over great hardships and crushing disappointments in life.”2 In the

foreword to the same book, John R. De Witt (former pastor in South Carolina and professor

at Reformed Seminary) writes, “[Palmer] was a powerful preacher and a remarkably able

pastor. He can have few peers as an evangelist and a wise physician of souls.”3

1 Richard D. Phillips, Selected Writings of Benjamin Morgan Palmer: Articles Written for The

Southwestern Presbyterian in the Years 1869–1870. Ed. C. N. Willborn (Carlisle: Banner of Truth Trust, 2014), 201.

2 Phillips, Selected Writings, 201.

3 John R. De Witt, Selected Writings, ix.

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In the 2002 collection of Palmer’s sermons (1,128 pages gathered from the mid-1870s), C. N.

Willborn of Greenville Presbyterian Theological Seminary wrote a commendatory preface of

Palmer, which was followed by an extensive seventeen-page introduction by Joe Morecraft

III (pastor in Georgia).4 Morecraft states that Palmer perceived the war as a “religious war

fought, not primarily over slavery, states’ rights or tariffs, but fought primarily by the South

in defense of Christendom.”5 In an amazingly bold move, Morecraft supports his point by

quoting extensively from Palmer’s infamous and inflammatory “Thanksgiving Sermon” of

November 28, 1860. In this sermon where Palmer explicitly states that the war is about

slavery and Providence desires to protect and propagate the institution, Morecraft quotes

from a section concerning atheism’s root in abolitionism. This allows Morecraft to reframe

the entire sermon (in a shorthand attempt to ameliorate Palmer’s legacy) and suggest that

Palmer’s real concern was driving back atheism. Such a reading of Palmer seems deeply

confused. Palmer never entertained Morecraft’s attempt to separate slavery and Christianity.

In Palmer’s mind, racial slavery and cultural dominance were essential to white-European

Christianity.

In this volume of sermons, Palmer does not display any politically charged opinions,

although we know that he was still very active during this time spreading his combative

social views throughout the South and pitting himself against any efforts of reunion with

Northern Presbyterians. In these sermons, there is only the image of a pastor endlessly

concerned about souls. There are sermons titled, “Love to an Unseen Christ,” “Knowledge of

Christ, Essential to Holiness,” “Reconciliation with God, in Christ,” “Certainty of the

Promises in Christ,” “Eternal Life, the Gift of God.” In contrast with our examination of

Palmer in chapters two and three, the reader is immediately struck with the apparent presence

of Christ in these sermon titles. Palmer gives the reader no reason to suspect affectation or

duplicity, as he presented himself and the gospel with exacting genuineness. The sermons

were so exclusively concerned with the soul’s relationship with God that they could have

been preached in front of a white or a black audience.

4 Benjamin Morgan Palmer, Sermons: Volumes 1 and 2 (Harrisonburg, Sprinkle Publications, 2002). 5 Morecraft, “Introduction” to Palmer, Sermons, xviii.

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When one examines the polemical writings of Palmer, one sees a heavy reliance on the Old

Testament, especially Genesis. In his polemical writings, the New Testament was hardly ever

used, and passages on the death of Christ were never cited. Moreover, when Palmer read the

Old Testament in his polemical writings, these readings were discussed without any

interaction with Christ. However, in the pastoral writings, and in particular in this large

volume of sermons, instead of a reliance on the Old Testament we see Palmer almost

exclusively using passages from the New Testament. Also, in these pastoral sermons, when

Palmer did preach from the Old Testament, he would often incorporate Christ into the

reading. For example, when preaching on Job 36:17 and the wrath of God, he incorporated

Christ, who “became obedient to death, even the death of the cross” and was offered “freely

for us all.”6 When preaching a two-part sermon on Zechariah 6:12–13 titled “Behold the man

whose name is THE BRANCH [sic]”7, Palmer saw “a remarkable prediction of the

Messiah.”8 As he reached the end of his sermon, he drew the Church into the Old Testament

prophecy, writing,

The Church is no self constituted society, with laws and ordinances of her own devising. She has nothing do to with carnal policy, but is required simply to obey the authority of her Head and to promote His glory. She exists in Him, and He dwells in her by the presence of His Spirit. As she lives to execute His will, so is she directed by His wisdom. His truth is her only weapon, His cross her only banner, and His power her only defence.9

Thus, in these pastoral sermons, we see Palmer constantly engaging the New Testament and

also reading the Old Testament with Christ and the Church in view. Yet, interestingly, in this

same volume, Palmer never used a text from one of the gospel passion narratives. Also, there

are no pastoral sermon texts taken from Genesis, which was Palmer’s favorite biblical book

for his polemical writings.

6 Palmer, Sermons, 9.




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A modern reader struggles to make sense of Palmer. If one had the polemical sermons in one

hand and the pastoral sermons in another, one could easily believe they were written by two

different people. In our attempt to account for what seems like a glaring inconsistency to a

modern reader (but apparently was not so viewed by Palmer’s contemporaries—or even his

modern editors), we might say that it seems as though for Palmer, and many of his

contemporaries for that matter, Christianity applied itself differently to the soul than it did to

society. More specifically, a crucified savior was necessary for the soul, but he was of little

use in the organization of society. This distinction directly affected Palmer’s reading of the

Scriptures, especially the Old Testament. In the pastoral essays and sermons, he at times read

the Bible with Christ in view; yet, recall, even in his pastoral writings, he did not engage with

the Passion. However, when he turned his attention to the larger society, he read and applied

the Bible without a suffering Christ in view—almost without exception.

What is one to make of this? One could suggest a number of things: Palmer was inconsistent;

he was a product of his time and culture; or, perhaps, he was simply a racist. All of these

suggestions would have some element of truth. However, we would suggest another reason

connected to what we saw in the Introduction: when Christians hold political power, it is

incredibly difficult to organize society around the image of Christ as presented in the

Gospels. It is problematic, at best, to implement on an institutional level Christ’s call to die

to self, turn the other cheek, and take up one’s cross. There were Christians in medieval

society who encountered this challenge as they attempted to understand their relationship to

the Jewish people. Likewise, Palmer and Thornwell seemed to implicitly recognize how

difficult it would be to organize society around the sacrificial nature and role of the person of

Christ. So, they simply avoided the question. There was one Bible for the larger society

(largely an Old Testament Bible divorced from Christ) and one Bible for the soul (which

featured the salvation of Christ) in their flawed hermeneutic.

Palmer and Thornwell were fascinated with modern scientific discoveries, which were

observable, verifiable, and produced stunning results. They attempted to reproduce these

results in their interpretation of Scripture by using a Baconian method, rooted in empiricism

and filtered through Scottish Common Sense philosophy. In practice, what this meant was

that their starting point for reading the Bible was the raw data on the page in front of them. A

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seemingly commendable move, at least in terms of desired applicability, allowed the Old

Testament Scriptures to be read as a blueprint for societal organization based on supposedly

divine principles of race, slavery, and segregation. However, one does not need the Bible to

advance such an agenda. It can easily be done on other grounds— and Thornwell did exactly

that. Thus, the peculiarity of the Bible lost its edge. And, specifically to our argument here, a

hermeneutic was then developed that was ill-fitted to reading the Scriptures. To the great

harm of others, Palmer never recognized that the Bible cannot be read like a scientific fact of

nature waiting to disclose a universal law. The Bible primarily discloses a person (our

Trinitarian God) and his patient, suffering, loving relationship to other persons.

Christological figuralism is not, in itself, the hermeneutical answer to societal problems.

However, Christian interpretation necessitates a measure of hermeneutical struggle when

reading the Old Testament to keep the Old Testament message from becoming unmoored

from the person of Jesus. This dissertation’s argument comes down to a deeply potent claim,

stark in its simplicity, yet for all that, unavoidably pressed by the material we have surveyed.

In light of the constricted readings of Palmer (and more so, of Thornwell), one might suggest

this as a minimal starting point for any effort at scriptural “application” within the realm of

moral challenge. At the very least, this hermeneutical starting point would lay the

groundwork for preserving the unique voice of the Scriptures. The Bible, even in the eyes of

Palmer and Thornwell, is distinctive, and has something particular to say to humanity which

is not easily assimilated to or transcribed for specific societal problems. But one of its most

singular, if perplexing, calls is to die for one’s enemies. By holding Old and New

Testaments together in a fundamentally initiating logic, the question of how to organize a

society on this basis, while seemingly impractical in the extreme, cannot simply be brushed

aside as an ancillary aspect of the scriptural challenge.

The unique voice of the Scriptures interpreted through a Christological figuralism was

revealed in the ways that some African Americans were reading the Bible. Centralizing Jesus

in their hermeneutical approach did not strip away all sense of social justice (they did not feel

compelled to endlessly turn the other cheek). They recognized that Jesus himself (both as

coming judge and seen through the person of Moses) was concerned with justice. African

American Christians, in many ways then, seemed to be able to wed together present suffering

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with a sense of future justice. In the end, their approach appeared to be more Christ-like,

because they were more complete readers of Scripture. Thus, having Christ as a starting

point for one’s exploration of the Old Testament does not automatically consign one to a

position of passivity. At the very least, having Christ always in view allowed many African

Americans to have one Bible, not two, as Palmer had in practice, although their attempts to

procedurally apply that one Bible posed a significant struggle. Through Christ’s enfigurated

scriptural form that includes within it lessons from both the Old Testament and the New,

many African Americans preserved the peculiarity and beauty of the Bible. Perhaps it is no

great surprise that many of the slave autobiographies and spirituals are still read, precisely in

their scriptural register, while the writings of Palmer and Thornwell have lapsed into

obscurity.

6.3 Reflections for the Modern Church In the introduction, we said, “Interactions with the Scriptures, especially the Old Testament,

apart from recognition and acknowledgement of the body of Christ are incapable of

producing accountable readings and may seek to justify abhorrent applications. That is, one’s

method of reading and one’s ethical conclusions fit with each other.”10 However, we have

argued more specifically that even a well-intended hermeneutic removed from a figural

interaction with Christ in the Old Testament can become deeply problematic. We are seeking

a reading of the Bible that would allow for the greatest conformity to Jesus Christ. As a way

of considering what help this thesis could be to the modern church, we first would repudiate

the goal of the hermeneutical enterprise of Palmer and Thornwell. That is, we would not

suggest a hermeneutical approach that is universally verifiable. A “neutral” Baconianism or

Historical Criticism may provide some recognizable benefit, but they are inadequate as the

primary hermeneutic for the Church. Rather, we would suggest a hermeneutic that is

specifically addressed to the Church centered around the crucified person of Jesus Christ. For

the Church consciously and intentionally to read the Bible with a Christological figuralism

would best allow for the peculiarity of the Bible to assert itself. Christian engagement with

10 See page 26.

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the Scriptures is necessarily one of struggle. This is not to reduce the Bible to the function of

spiritual consolation alone. It is rather to say that, for example, while the Bible is concerned

with social justice, it is not attempting to provide a blueprint for societal organization. In an

effort to maintain a hermeneutic of struggle, a Christian might rightly feel like an exiled

Israelite. While this would admittedly leave the Christian reader in a vulnerable position,

without clear answers, it would also place them in the embodied position that much of the

New Testament speaks of. This was, likewise, the position that many African Americans saw

themselves as inhabiting, and would also fit with the biblical mandate of a vocation to

humility and servanthood that God has placed upon both Israel and the Church.

Thus, we are suggesting that a figural hermeneutic where Christ is engaged on every page of

Scripture is primarily a reading of the Bible that articulates how the Church should interact

with the world—not how a country run by Christians should function. When Christians are in

positions of political power, it is legitimate and expected that the Bible should be consulted.

However, we are saying the Bible’s primary role is in forming how the Church, as the

corporate embodiment of Christ, should act as it traverses this present age. Such an approach,

unquestionably, would have left someone like Palmer without the answers for which he was

pressing the text. Yet, in allowing the Bible to become virtually a Southern Christian political

manifesto, the Old Testament is altered into something unrecognizable, as it portends

something other than a saviour to whom all people are called to respond.

Second, we would repudiate not only the goal of Palmer’s approach, but also the exclusivity

of his hermeneutical data when reading the Old Testament. Palmer rejected a metaphysical

approach to Scripture as something artificially imposed on the text which would obscure the

meaning (and results) of exegesis. He brought this assumption from Enlightenment science.

After sloughing off ancient conceptions of the universe and instead dealing with the raw data

of nature, the Enlightenment had produced a startling increase in theoretical and mechanical

innovation. The modern historical-critical method of reading the Bible draws its source from

Enlightenment presuppositions just as Palmer did.

The history of the Old Testament text is important. Since God disclosed himself historically,

it is incumbent that interpreters attempt to understand the historical context of these accounts.

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However, it has been recognized that Israel and the Church were less concerned to describe

bare history and more concerned to describe God working in history in a way that is at last

only meaningful for a person in the community of faith.11 That is, approaching the data in

Scripture with a hermeneutic centered around Christ is necessary for rightly apprehending

that data when read within the Church.

Holding to a Christological figuralism means, at least in Christian terms, that one begins with

the Trinity. Thus wherever “God” is speaking in the Old Testament, the other persons of the

Trinity are present—or perhaps they are the voice itself. Either way, an appropriate Christian

hermeneutic would have to struggle with how Jesus, as God, is operating in the Old

Testament. Although seemingly an imposition on the Old Testament—an “extraneous”

metaphysic, some might say—holding to the assumption that the Trinity is operating in the

Old Testament might, for the Christian, actually do justice to the very Jewish origins of the

Christian faith. The Early Church, even as it became overwhelmingly Gentile, recognized the

importance of understanding how the Old Testament and the Trinity function in concert; that

is, how there could be one God (the Jewish claim that no orthodox Christian dares go

beyond) in three persons. For a Christian to bring a Trinitarian perspective to the Old

Testament is a way for the Church to be faithful to the Shema (Deuteronomy 6:4–5, part of

which reads, “The LORD our God, the LORD is one”). If the Trinitarian God is one in the

New Testament, then this Trinitarian God must similarly be one in the Old Testament. For

the Church to read the Old Testament apart from trinitarian presuppositions would be to treat

the Old Testament as a foreign text, describing a different god (in effect, an unintended

Marcionism). Thus, Christ must be present in the Old Testament—and not in an artificially

imposed way—or else the entirety of Christian faith becomes imperiled.

11 See for example: the classic essay on the appreciation of figuralism by David C. Steinmetz, “The

Superiority of Pre-Critical Exegesis,” in Taking the Long View: Christian Theology in Historical Perspective, 3–14 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011); Brevard Childs, Biblical Theology of the Old and New Testaments: Theological Reflection on the Christian Bible (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1992), 382. Also note the form-critical approach by Gerhard von Rad, Old Testament Theology: Volume 1, trans. D.M.G. Stalker (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001); the importance of the biblical narrative as argued by Hans Frei, The Eclipse of Biblical Narrative: Studies in Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Hermeneutics (New York: Yale University Press, 1974); and the theological approach by R. W. L. Moberly, Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013).

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Third, in order for this thesis to be useful to the modern church, we must do more than

repudiate the goals and data of Palmer’s hermeneutic. We must, on the basis of what we have

learned, also repudiate the Southern preachers’ lack of caution in drawing sweeping

applications. Palmer and Thornwell had so thoroughly absorbed and assiduously propagated

the assumptions of their culture that they seem to never have stopped to ask if anything might

be wrong with their grandiose claims. In fact, although they recognized that the entire

civilized world stood against them, they soldiered on. Even when Thornwell hesitated, it was

only because he wished to avoid war, not because he believed that the Southern position was

wrong. In Palmer and Thornwell’s embedded positions of power, viewing themselves as

exiled Israel would have proven dissonant with their experience. Indeed, Palmer believed

that the South was faithful Israel re-founded in the promised land. One would expect that a

willingness to embrace the posture of Jesus, who had no place to lay his head, and Israel in

the wilderness, could potentially have provided a check on the speed and virulence of

Palmer’s reactions. We have seen how, in the African American community, assuming the

figural role of an enslaved or later exiled Israel did not diminish their sense of deserved

justice, but perhaps did help to slow reactions against those who could be counted as their

enemies.

In repudiating the goals, data, and uncontrolled sweep of Palmer’s approach, the Church

might also, positively, embrace some of the hermeneutical postures of the African American

community. We have already seen how the circumstances of African American slaves and

freedmen often created a fusion of multiple images and timelines (Jesus, Moses, Israel, the

Church, suffering, glory, etc.). African American interpreters did not seem to be overly

concerned with discerning the historical accuracy of Biblical events or how they, in their

current situations, stood in relation to them—they simply assimilated what they needed in

order to understand their circumstances and chart a way forward. This apparently

undisciplined and disordered manner of reading the biblical text seems to have helped some

African Americans to respond to troubling situations in a very faithful and Christ-like way,

since their organizing principle highlighted the suffering Christ and suffering Israel. This

helps confirm what we said above: the biblical text is best read in the believing community,

within which the Scripture is most thoroughly understood and applied. Palmer was, of

course, part of the believing community. However, he relied heavily on hermeneutical tools

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developed outside the church for quite different purposes, such as scientific investigation,

and his social commitments often drove him to read the Old Testament apart from Christ and

hence outside the scope and purview of the Church, despite what he may have thought.

Although they made fewer attempts to utilize sophisticated methodology, African Americans

seemed to be more faithful readers of Scripture by the simple hermeneutical move of

figurally identifying with Israel. Their readings covered nearly every biblical theme

(suffering, humility, and service, and divine justice, judgment, and retribution). Thus, their

hermeneutic was also capable of holding together the many threads and vast extent of

Scripture, in part because their Christological hermeneutical key was, by definition,

comprehensive of the entire Scripture.

Specifically, we would describe the hermeneutic which some African Americans employed

as a Christological figuralism. This involves more than simply being prayerful and pious

when reading the Old Testament (Palmer did as much). A Christological figuralism involves

certain concrete theological commitments: among other things, a crucified Jesus and

displaced Israel cannot be placed on the margins, but must be at the very center of biblical

interpretation.

It is apparent that the scriptural community with which one identifies can have a significant

effect on one’s ethical response to a situation. Circumstances can tend to push one to align

reflexively and uncritically with certain themes in Scripture. We are suggesting that a

scriptural identification (or figuration) is a necessary method for applying the Scriptures.

However, a check on a possibly erroneous figural hermeneutic is whether or not this

identification includes the suffering of Israel, which will then more easily be able to grasp the

suffering of Christ. In all our examples of engagement with scriptural texts and biblical

themes, whenever the suffering of Christ was missing from the hermeneutical framework,

violence found justification. In contrast, there was a tendency toward endurance and patience

among African Americans, where one perhaps might least expect to find it. These African

American interpreters who identified themselves with suffering Israel were a people led by a

suffering Jesus.

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Without figuralism the Bible loses imagery and relevance. Figuralism aids in bridging the

gap between text and reader. However, what sort of figuralism is employed makes a great

deal of difference. Palmer knew this. The startling power and promise of scientific advances

were too tempting to ignore. Palmer attempted to jettison a traditional figuralism and opted

for a more reliable scientific hermeneutic, but this proved impossible. As Thornwell

implicitly knew, the Bible demands some sort of figuralism in its application. Thus, although

Palmer began with the intent to bring greater clarity through his Baconian scientific

hermeneutic, he ended with an ill-conceived figuralism empty of Christ’s power, which

allowed the Old Testament to function mostly independent of the New Testament and the

Passion of Christ (except as a means of personal salvation). This appears to have allowed

him to react with great vitriol against his enemies, since there was little to no recognition of

the concept of dying to self for the sake of one’s enemies within his scriptural hermeneutic.

We can contrast this with many in the African American community who figurally took up a

hermeneutic that promoted a Christ who suffered for others and an exiled Israel waiting for

deliverance. In the grip of terrible injustice (far worse than anything the South was

experiencing from the North!), such a hermeneutic seems to have allowed for responses that

revealed great hope and patience. During the great drama and theater of the Civil War, it was

largely these African Americans who responded with the greatest Christ-likeness. If the

Church, as Christ’s body, ought to act in concert with Christ, our head, then we would do

well to read his Word in the most appropriate manner possible: likewise, in concert and

accord with Christ. The African American community of the mid-nineteenth century

suggests a way toward doing so even in the most uncertain circumstances and turbulent

times.

We conclude with a few observations of contemporary theological interpretation and an final

attempt to help the approach move one step forward. We have argued that the struggle to see

Jesus in the Old Testament in some manner has the potential to be able to read the text with a

degree of charity toward one’s perceived enemy and not to turn the text into a partisan

weapon. For example, both North and South employed a figural interpretation of the Exodus

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by using the trope of oppressing Pharaoh to describe each other.12 If the Scriptures are to be

relentlessly applied, then is not without merit to question who might be embodying the figure

of Pharaoh at any given time. Yet, we could ask: how is this figural image to be negotiated?

How are we to decide who is the proper referent? The poorly articulated figural hermeneutic

by people such as Palmer caused the text to become grab-bag of rootless figures, which could

be sharpened and deployed as needed. When Augustine attempted to describe the function of

signs and images in Scripture, he acknowledged that some signs are opaque. When this

occurs, he counseled that the interpretation of such difficult figures ought to be guided by the

teaching of the church and above all by charity: love of God and love of others. Yet, when

this cannot wisely be done, it would be better to leave the sign as something one is troubled

by rather than to rashly interpret it. Augustine wrote, “But it is better even to be oppressed by

signs that are useful though not understood than by interpreting them in a useless manner to

withdraw one’s neck from the yoke of slavery, only to insert it in the noose of error.”13

Similarly, Origen understood the Old Testament to present Christ in various garments

through the use of figures and images, writing, “Although our Lord Jesus Christ is one in his

substance he is represented as various and diverse in the figures and images of the

Scriptures.”14 With such a hermeneutic in hand, Origen’s first inclination was to see Pharaoh

and Egypt as an image of the evil within all of us.15 He did not limit his interpretation to such

allegorical references. He knew that Pharaoh was also an historical personage and he

believed that the Egyptians were linked to the corrupted line of “Cham,” which explained

their “discolored posterity.”16 However, this was a passing comment and Origen more

naturally said that all needed to beware of becoming “Egyptians.” He preached to his people,

12 For example, Henry Ward Beecher, Freedom and War (Boston: Ticknor & Fields, 1863), 83–110;

Henry Allen Tupper, "A Thanksgiving Discourse,” in Sermons in American History: Selected Issues in the American Pulpit, 1630–1967, ed. DeWitte Holland; (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1971), 236–238, 243.

13 Augustine, Teaching Christianity (De Doctrina Christiana), trans. Edmund Hill (Hyde Park: New City Press, 1996), 183.

14 Origen, Homilies on Genesis and Exodus, trans. Ronald E. Heine (Washington: The Catholic University of America Press, 1981), 196.

15 Origen, Homilies on Genesis and Exodus, 233. 16 Origen, Homilies on Genesis and Exodus, 215.

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“You also take heed, therefore lest perhaps you be found an Egyptian.”17 Being an Egyptian

was not, primarily, for Origen an issue of race, but an issue of the soul. Believing that the

image of Pharaoh or an Egyptian could be a personal problem that each Christian has to deal

with within oneself has the potential to radically change how one reads the Bible over and

against one’s perceived enemy.

For this reason, we find the conclusions by Frances Watson in a recent essay to be

insufficient. In conversation with other essays by Grant Macaskill, Wesley Hill, and Richard

Briggs, Watson seeks not to hamper the effort toward theological interpretation, but to keep

such an approach from having any sort of hermeneutical dominance. The three men Watson

interacts with all are proposing some form of theological interpretation as primary. Macaskill

would like to see greater competence in theological interpretation. Hill would ask biblical

interpreters to be conversant with theologians past and present. Briggs suggests that

ascriptive realism ought not be omitted when reading Biblical narratives (that is, seeking to

understand the narrative in the text as presented, despite its possible misalignment with an

accepted historical timeline). To all of these suggestions, Watson acknowledges the

usefulness. However, he remains hesitant about the perceived unnecessary criticism of the

historical-critical method (that method, in his view, often amounts to being a careful reader).

While he sees the value of theological interpretation, he lays no great stock in it. He

concludes by writing,

A theological interpretation can claim no special privileges. It is not inherently superior to other modes of interpretation, and it should refrain from criticizing them for their alleged theological insensitivity or irrelevance, but rather draw freely on the methodological resources they provide. There will, then, be no exclusively theological mode of interpretation, jealously guarding its ideological purity. Interpretation is a complex and demanding practice, and interpreters should be grateful for whatever help lies to hand.18

17 Origen, Homilies on Genesis and Exodus, 220 (cf., also: if you cannot cling to Christ and the things

eternal “know that you are of the Egyptian people,” 223). 18 Francis Watson, “Putting ‘Theological Interpretation’ in Its Place: Three Models and Their Limits,”

Journal of Theological Interpretation 14, no. 1 (2020): 65–73. Cf., also, Wesley Hill, “In Defense of ‘Doctrinal Exegesis’: A Proposal, with Reference to Trinitarian Theology and the Fourth Gospel,” Journal of Theological Interpretation 14, no. 1 (2020): 20–35.

198

We could agree with this statement in so far as Watson is right to say that “interpreters

should be grateful for whatever help lies to hand.” But that still leaves open the question, “To

what end?” That is, if there is a proper goal in biblical interpretation, are all tools useful to

attain that goal?

Our thesis has sought to demonstrate that this is manifestly not true. All methods of

interpretation are not equal for all goals are not equal. Palmer’s goal was enslavement of

African Americans and war with the North. He deployed methods to that end. Judged on that

line of logic, he was successful. But we can easily see that his goal was reprehensible, and,

likewise, his interpretive methods were distorted. We are suggesting that a proper biblical

goal (seeking the person of Christ) was missing in Palmer, and so his hermeneutic was

faulty. Thus, should it really be suggested that all methods equally lie before the biblical

interpreter and that the interpreter is only to choose the method that best unlocks the text?

But unlocks what precisely?

Perhaps the interpretation of the biblical text is destined to be partitioned in academia. The

goals of a historical study of the text will demand different methods. The goals of a

theological study of the text may employ some historical methods, but, in the end, other

methods must take priority since the goal is not the same. We argue that Watson is wrong

because one’s goal demands that a particular method or approach take priority. If one were

carving a statue, not all tools would be equally useful to that end. Some would inevitably

take priority over others.

We are suggesting that theological interpretation ought to assume that the goal of the text is

not accurate information (as important as that is), but a living encounter with Christ. As such,

certain methods must have priority over others (contra Watson). However, we are also

suggesting that these methods in theological interpretation have not been especially clear

(and neither has the goal of reading the Old Testament). Even the suggestions by Watson’s

interlocutors are too often defined as vaguely seeking to read the text “theologically.” But

what does that mean exactly? Too often it seems to mean that one is to read the text not in a

199

historical critical manner. So be it. But at least the historical critical method had a goal: the

attainment of textual clarity (who wrote it and when was it written). If these goals have been

shown to be difficult to attain, that is a methodological issue and no fault of the desired goal.

It has been an interesting and useful project even if often out of reach. The fact that the goal

of historical criticism has often been frustrated has caused many to seek an alternative

approach. The theological approach is one. But, as mentioned, the goal of this approach is

too often unclear. Sometimes it appears that theological reading means that one is to read the

Bible in the church (with a creedal framework) or that one ought to read the Bible

sympathetically (no scalpel in hand).19 However, we are suggesting that, while all these are

important considerations, searching for the person of Jesus, particularly in the Old

Testament, is often not clearly articulated as a goal of theological interpretation. We are not

necessarily suggesting that current theological approaches are leaving Jesus out. We are

suggesting that the goal is not as defined as it could be. This might appear to be such a

simplistic observation that it is not deserving of comment. But we believe that this is not the

case. Palmer made the seemingly minor mistake of leaving Jesus out of the Old Testament—

a mistake so obvious that it is easy to overlook when sifting through the massive amount of

his biblical citations and allusions—and this mistake compounded upon itself to amount to

significant errors. Likewise, we believe that the goal of “theological interpretation” ought to

have the simple and consistent clarity of saying that, among other laudable goals (perhaps

historical or ethical), above all else the goal is to encounter Jesus Christ in the Bible from

start to finish. We are certainly not trying to downplay the complexity of the issues involved

in discussing theological hermeneutics (especially since a pure retrieval project of reading

Scripture as the church fathers is not possible on this side of the Enlightenment), but, in some

ways, the hermeneutical issues can be harder than they need to be.

19 Beyond the essays listed above, see also: Nate Dawson, “Making the Shift to Theological

Interpretation of Scripture,” Anglican Theological Review 99, no. 4 (2017): 753–762; Brad East, “The Hermeneutics of Theological Interpretation: Holy Scripture, Biblical Scholarship and Historical Criticism,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 19, no. 1 (January 2017): 30–52; Stephen Fowl, “Theological Interpretation of Scripture and Its Future,” Anglican Theological Review 99, no. 4 (2017): 671–690; Robert Morgan, “Two Types of Critical Theological Interpretation,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 41, no. 2 (2018): 204–222; Daniel J. Treier, “Biblical Theology and/or Theological Interpretation of Scripture? Defining the Relationship,” Scottish Journal of Theology 61, no. 1 (2008): 16–31.

200

However, this thesis is not an attempt to write our version of Augustine’s De Doctrine

Christiana or Origen’s De Principiis.20 Our goal is to show, through a terrible moment in

American history, that the absence of Christ from the Old Testament can be linked to

regrettable thinking; and that somehow seeing the whole of the Bible as a witness to Christ

ought to be a priority—not merely as good hermeneutical practice, but as essential for the life

of the church.

20 However, even in these manuals, a step-by-step approach to figural reading was not prescribed. Such

an approach would be discordant (perhaps impossible) with the subject matter. If one is seeking a living encounter with Christ, then a static “figural method” is often not appropriate. Thus, figuralism is often best seen in the sermons of people like Augustine and Origen, where a prayerful seeking and questioning is employed as the interpreter longs to rise up toward a holy relationship with Jesus Christ.

202

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