The Testimony of Friends of Mount Holly monthly meeting concerning him.
Philadelphia: PRINTED BY JOHN RICHARDS, No. 129 North Third Street.
1834.
MEMOIRS AND ANECDOTES OF WILLIAM BOEN.
William Boen was a coloured man, who resided near Mount Holly, New Jersey. Like many of his brethren of the African race, in those days, he was from his birth held as a slave. But though poor and ignorant, in his early days, he was cared for, as all others are, by the universal Parent of the human family. He became a pious, sober, temperate, honest, and industrious man; and by this means, he obtained the friendship, esteem, and respect of all classes of his fellow-men, and the approbation and peace of his heavenly Father.
His industry, temperance, and cleanliness, no doubt, contributed much to his health and comfort; so that he lived to be a very old man, with having but little sickness through the course of his life. His character being so remarkable for sobriety, honesty, and peace—that it induced some younger people to inquire by what means he had arrived to such a state, and attained such a standing in the neighbourhood where he lived. Ever willing to instruct, counsel, and admonish the youth, he could relate his own experience of the work of grace in his heart, which led him into such uprightness of life and conduct. For his memory did not appear to be much impaired by reason of old age.
To a friend who visited him in the eighty-sixth year of his age, he gave the following account of his early life, and religious experience. On being asked, whether he could remember in what way, and by what means, he was first brought to mind and follow that, which had been his guide and rule of faith and life, and which had led and preserved him so safely along through time? William answered as follows: “Oh! yes; that I can, right well. In the time of the old French war, my master (for I was a poor black boy, a slave) my master sent me to chop wood, on a hill-side, out of sight of any house; and there was a great forest of woods below me; and he told me to cut down all the trees on that hill-side. When I went home, in the evenings, I often heard them talking about the Indians killing and scalping people: and sometimes, some of the neighbours would come in, and they and my master’s family talked of the Indians killing such and such,—nearer and nearer to us. And so, from time to time, I would hear them tell of the Indians killing, and scalping people, nearer and nearer: so that I began to think, like enough, by and by, they would kill me. And I thought more and more about it; and again would hear tell of their coming still nearer. At length, I thought, sure enough they will get so near, that they will hear the sound of my axe, and will come and kill me. Here is a great forest of woods below me, and no house in sight:—surely, I have not long to live. I expected every day would be my last;—that they would soon kill me, a poor black boy, here all alone.”
“A thought then came into my mind, whether I was fit to die. It was showed me, and I saw plain enough, that I was not fit to die. Then it troubled me very much, that I was not fit to die; and I felt very desirous,—very anxious that I might be made fit to die. So I stood still, in great amazement; and it seemed as if a flaming sword passed through me. And when it passed over, and I recollected myself (for I stood so, some time) it was showed me how I should be made fit to die: and I was willing to do any thing, so I might be made fit to die.”
“Thus, I was brought to mind and follow that, that has been the guide and rule of my life,—_that within me_, that inclined me to good, and showed and condemned evil. Now I considered I had a new master—I had two masters; and it was showed me (in my mind) by my new Master, a certain tree on the hill-side, that I must not cut down. I knowed the tree well enough. I had not come to it yet. But I did not know what I should do; for my old master had told me to cut all the trees down, on that hill-side. My new Master forbids me to cut a certain one. So I thought a good deal about it. I cut on; and by and by I came to the tree. I cut on by it, and let it stand. But I expected, every day, my old master would come, and see that tree standing, and say, ‘What did thee leave that tree standing for? Did not I tell thee to cut all the trees down, as thee went? Go, cut that tree down.’ Then, I didn’t know what I should do. But he never said any thing to me about it. I cut on, and got some distance by it; and one day my old master brought out his axe, and cut the tree down himself; and never said, William, why didn’t thee cut that tree down? never said any thing to me about it. Then I thought, surely my new Master will make way for me, and take care of me, if I love him, and mind him, and am attentive to this my guide, and rule of life. And this seemed an evidence and proof of it, and strengthened me much in love, and confidence in my Guide.”
After the respectable and goodly old man, had given this interesting account of the way and manner in which he was brought to follow the guide of his life, the following question was put to him: “Well, William, has thee, from that time, till now, been so careful and attentive to thy guide, as never to say or do amiss?” To which he replied, “Oh! no: I have missed it—I have several times missed it.” He was then asked, “Well, William, in that case, how did thee get along?” He answered, “Oh! when I missed it,—when I found I had said, or done wrong, I felt very sorry. I tried to be more careful, for time to come;—never to do so any more: and I believe I was forgiven.”
Another inquiry was made of William, how he and his old master got along together, after his change. He said, “Very well. Some time afterwards, one of the neighbours said to me, one day, ‘William, thy master talks of setting thee free.’ I didn’t think much about it—didn’t expect there was any thing in it; though I heard others say he talked of setting me free;—till, after some time, as my master was walking with me, going to my work, he said, ‘William, wouldn’t thee like to be free?’ I didn’t say any thing to it. I thought he might know I should like to be free. I didn’t make him any answer about it, but then I thought there was something in it. So after awhile, sure enough, he did set me free.”
There is no doubt his old master observed a great change in him; for his guide taught him to be dutiful, industrious and diligent in his business, careful in his words and actions, and sober, steady, and exemplary in all he said, and in all his conduct.
William Boen’s guide, and rule of life and conduct, his new Master, as he called him, that did so much for him, and raised him from the state of a poor slave, to be a free man, in good esteem—thro’ habits of temperance, sobriety, honest industry and integrity,—whereby he was enabled to become the respectable head of a family, and to acquire a house, and property of his own, sufficient for the comfortable accommodation of himself and family;—and who forsook him not when he became old, and grey-headed;—his new Master was the same Light that appears unto all; and it would guide every one in the right way, as it did him, if they would take it for their Master, and mind and obey it, as he did. It was the guide of his youth,—became his Lord and Master,—preserved him from evil,—and conducted him safely through the trials of life, to a good old age.
William Boen’s new Master was, and is the same thing that the apostle Paul, in his Epistle to Titus, bears testimony to, in these words; “the grace of God, that bringeth salvation, hath appeared to all men;—teaching us, that, denying all ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world.” Now, surely, if we don’t take it for our master, and mind its teachings, we cannot know it to bring our salvation, or save us from all ungodliness and worldly lusts, as he did, and as all do, that are obedient to this grace of God, the Light of Christ, within.
In William Boen’s simple account of the way and means, by which he was showed how he should be made fit to die;—that is, by minding and following that within him, which inclined him to good, and that showed and condemned him for evil,—the goodness, mercy, and condescending care of the Almighty Father, are strikingly manifest. How graciously he suits his dispensations to the weak and ignorant states of his children, who sincerely seek him, and inquire what they shall do to be saved! When William Boen thought of death, something showed him he was not fit to die. He “saw it plain enough,” and was troubled. In his anxiety to be prepared to die, he became still and quiet—and then he felt condemnation, as a flaming sword, pass through him. When this had its effect to bring him to a state of humility and watchfulness, the Divine Light in his soul showed him the way in which he should walk, in order to become fit to die. He became willing to do any thing required of him: so, to prove his obedience, it was showed him, by his new Master, that he must leave a certain tree standing, where he was felling timber. He began to reason upon consequences, but resolved to obey his new Master, in preference to his old one. It was sufficient to test his faith and love; and though a simple circumstance, it was probably of great use to him ever after; as by it he was taught to be faithful in little things, and thus became ruler over more.
It may be useful to survivors, who, like William, are desirous so to live, as that they may become fit to die,—to bring into view some anecdotes of his life, that show the principles by which his mind and conduct were regulated.
In his conversation among men, he was very careful to keep to the plain language,—the language of truth and sincerity—yet, through the help of his guide, he detected himself in a deviation from it, in the following circumstance. A wealthy neighbour, a white man, frequently availed himself of William’s obliging disposition, by using his grindstone, instead of procuring one for himself. On an occasion of this kind, his neighbour told him he was obliged to him for the use of his grindstone: to which, William returned the usual compliment of saying he was welcome. After the man was gone, William became uneasy in his mind, with his reply, as being insincere. He therefore went to his neighbour, and made an acknowledgment, that although he had told him he was welcome, yet it was only in conformity with custom, and was not the case; for he thought his neighbour was better able to keep a grindstone of his own, than he was.
How many customary compliments, by-words, and common expressions, would be dispensed with, as idle words, for which we must give an account in the day of judgment,—if a strict regard to truth and sincerity, were the ruling principle or guide of all our words and actions!
William Boen appears to have been as strictly careful in his adherence to the principles of justice, and the rights of property, as he was in regard to truth and sincerity in his communications. Being employed, with several others, to mow the meadows attached to the place called Breezy Ridge, on Lomberton creek,—William, with his scythe, accidentally struck a partridge that was concealed from his view, in the grass, and killed it. As it appeared to be in good order, his companions proposed that he should take it home, for his own use. William, however, was not easy to do so: he said the partridge did not belong to him, but to the owner of the meadow.
