Henry Ward Beecher

October 4th, 1887, I delivered, by

request, an eulogy on Mr. Beeclier in the Academy of Music, Brooklyn. In some resjiects that was the greatest public occasion in which I have ever taken part. The eulogy extends to thirty-five quarto pages and attempts to deal with all the prominent points in Mr. Beecher’s great career. I asked the President of the United States to accept the dedication of the eulogy. This is President Cleveland’s reply:

“Rev. Joseph Parker, D.D.
“My Dear Sir, —

“Rev. Henry Ward Beecher was my loved and honoured friend; and I readily consent to the dedication you

“Executive Maxsiox, Washixcjtok
‘’June, 14, 18S7.

A PEEACHER’S LIFE

request of your contemplated Eulogy
on his Life and Work.

“Yours very truly,

“Grover Cleveland.”

I asked Mr. Gladstone to allow me to associate his name with the President’s, in order that the eulogy might assume somewhat of an “international” character. Mr. Gladstone replied as folloAVS:

“Dear Dr. Parker, —

“I should consider the Dedication, which you offer so kindly, to he a very great honour. But there are two serious difficulties in the way. (1) It appears to me that a private individual like myself ought not to be, as it were, bracketed or placed upon a footing with the President, who is the head and representative of a great nation, and it occurs to me also that this view might be taken by many in America. (2) The President, by virtue of personal knowledge, is able to speak of Mr. Beecher as his ’ loved and honoured friend.’ But as I never had the advantage of seeing him but on two occasions, neither of them special with reference to personal intercourse, any letter that I could properly write must seem cold by the side of the letter written by the President.

“I venture to add that the international character of the work you have in hand seems to me amply asserted by your English nationality, when it is taken in connection with the DPJ^ication to the President and with ^1 subject.

the telieve me,
to H” Very faithfully yours,
idon is, E. Gladstone.

“)rofound., n.w.
o convd’

1 account approbajp ^yg greatest honours and privile^ life to have known Henry Ward ‘PP I had long admired him from afai equal j came near to him in his Own hoi’ith ^. he came to be my guest in London for’^ weeks, my admiration became affectionate and grateful in no ordinarj’’ degree. In one of the last letters we had from Mr. Beecher, written from Baltimore, where he had been lecturing, he said, “I am perfectly well; I wonder if I shall ever grow old.” He knew not how soon that question would be answered in a glorious “Never.”

At seventy-four Mr. Beecher was young in thought and heart and hope, and young he will he evermore. I noticed in the papers which immediately followed the announcement of his decease, which occurred on March 8th, 1887, at 9.40 a.m., that Mr. Beecher had “certain faults, which were largely, indeed, the faults of his fellow countrymen.” This was, no doubt, very wrong on Mr. Beecher’s part. What right had he to h p any faults? His critics had none, — why aid he have any? His critics have a cree- heology, an ecclesiastical theory, a stair the Ireputation, infinite prudence, and midlv, to an divine sagacity: what right liar, there 3eecher to have one solitary fault 2n the wa critics said that his sermons were la” a privatf’ojectious of his own personality.” not to heat a personality it was to project! ;d upon a-ny-sided and radiant! how sympatheo is tlw human! I noticed at the time that :>reat leecher was to he memorialised in a statt. th What a miscarriage of justice! His critics ought to have had a statue. They certainly ought to have something, and I would as soon see them in stone or in salt as in anything else. They are such wonderful men, and have a shooting license over the total acreage of the universe. I expect they will shoot themselves some day, in consequence of their always aiming at somebody else. It is thus that the avenging heavens attach their penalty to the evil squint.

Mr. Beeclior, though an American in and out, having some of the faults of his countrymen, forsooth, had a strong affection for England which he never hesitated to express. During his last visit he was more than ever impressed with the greatness of England and the vastness of London. Driving on the top of a four-in-hand from Piccadilly to Hammersmith, he quaintly said, “London is some pumpkins, I tell you” — a profound .Americanism which is supposed to convey wholly unutterahle surprise and approbation. Continuing his drive through the green lanes of Surrey, lie said, “I suppose this kind of scenery is hardly to 1)e equalled in the world.” A day’s drive with him showed how large and minute was his ol)servation, though he was far from being one of those fussy travellers who are always jumping from side to side, and are wearing the life out of you by pointing to something that is behind you, or something that you might have seen ])ut for a stone wall twenty feet high, or something twenty miles oif Avhicli you might have soon if the day had not been so misty. Trees, hedge-flowers, birds, floral climbers round the cottage windoAY, novel farm implements, unaccustomed methods of tillage, farmyards, roadside schools, all attracted his attention and elicited some apposite remark, without one word of disparagement in all his genial annotation. Disparagement, he evidently thought, was a department of human labour already well supplied with skilled hands, so he went in other directions for occupation. When he came from Liverpool to London, in his final visit to England, he came to my house, and there remained with his venerable and charming wife for six sunny and delightful weeks. In one of our first conversations he dwelt with rapture on the merits of Mr. Gladstone’s great speech, just delivered in Hengler’s Circus, Liverpool, saying that taking it from end to end he had never listened to anything to be compared with it. When he expressed his appreciation to Mr. Gladstone himself, immediately on the conclusion of the speech, that great statesman replied with characteristic grace, “There is no better judge in all the world of such an effort than yourself.”

Speakinjj: of Mr. Beochcr’s affection for the mother country, I am reminded how strongly he felt upon the question of Home Rule. He had no misgiving whatever as to the necessity and utility of Mr. Gladstone’s Bill. His knowledge of the Irish in America enabled Mr. Beecher to speak with confidence respecting the Irish character generally, Avlien it is developed under favourable conditions; and I have heard him invariably bear testimony to the effect that the Irish were marked by the very highest qualities of head and heart when they had a fair chance of showing their real disposition. It was feared by some that if he went to Ireland he would express himself too strongly upon this exciting subject, and a delicate endeavour AA’as made to mitigate the possible directness of his statements, but to no such proposition would he listen. He said, “I have not come to this country to hold my tongue, and when suitable opjjortunity arises I shall say exactly what I feel upon the questions of the day.” When he went to Scotland it was feared that he might offend the traditional orthodoxy of that country. When a hint to that effect was given to him he replied that he could not consider any suggestion in that direction because his mind was made up on certain issues, and he was determined to bring under discussion questions of the most vexed theological character. He did not come with any notion of projiounding final lines in religious thinking, l)ut he was determined that the minds of those who heard him should be brought up to date so far as his own intelligence and conviction could secure that end. Had Mr. Beecher been a mere popularity-hunter he would have trimmed his sails accordingly. What Mr. Beecher was in one direction he was in every other direction. A purer politician probably never lived in America. He had risked everything in order that he might fully explain and vindicate what he believed to be the only true principles of political life. He never made any selfish use of his great political position. President Lincoln did not hesitate to say that Henry Ward Beecher’s was the finest mind in America. Yet never once did Mr. Beecher use his reputation as a means of helping any of the applicants for promotion who continually besieged him. “No,” said he, on one occasion, “I never introduced any one to Governor or President with a view to obtaining office for my friends, and T will never do so; I have worked for pul)lic ends, not for personal interests.”

With regard to his public work I have pleasure in stating that Mr. Beeclier valued his preaching far above his lecturing as a means of doing the widest and deepest good. To lecture was a merely intellectual effort, though not without much moral inspiration. But when Mr. Beecher came to preach, his whole nature was enlisted in the holy service; and although he supposed himself never to be excited, it was evident to those who looked closely into the matter that every sermon cost him an immense expenditure of nervous force. I once sympathised with him under the stress to which his public efforts exposed him, saying, “Each of the efforts is so exciting.” Whereupon he instantly replied, “No, I am never excited.” So he might think; l)ut no man could feel as he felt, and expend the emotion which he exijended, without being enfeebled by the severe taxation. Mr. Beecher, though he claimed to have strong scholarly instincts, was not meant for arduous literary work. He must be always in activity, out in the fresh air, driving on to the Far West, plunging into the distant South, coming home on Friday afternoon to his evening prayernieetinfi’, prei)aring’ himself on Saturday for his great Sunday duty; off again, prol3al)ly, by the midnight train, on Sunday, to go tlu’ough another circuit of lecturing. This, which would kill most men, seemed almost essential to the preservation of his health. When he came to sit down to his daily task of literary work the confinement soon told upon him. Hence, according to the telegrams, cerebral ajjoplexy was induced, and the great worker was withdrawn from our sight at the very time when he was working hard on what would have been the most graphic and most helpful life of Christ ever published in the English language.

We can never forget Mr. Beecher’s visit to our house. There was no one jiarticular Mr. Beeclier; he seemed to be several men condensed into one. He would lecture to us on the “cat” as a “self-respecting animal,” pointing out that if you dropped a soda-Avater bottle in front of that animal he would make no stir, he would give no sign of excitement or fear, but if you dropped another bottle immediately behind him he would spring ten feet into the air. Mr. Beecher would tell with delight of the way in which he would excite a little dog that was following him in his carriage, and take delight in the little creature’s efforts to spring up to the seat which the driver was occupying. He would amplify such little incidents so as to make them into little dramas. Then some reference would he made to an event of a serious character, and instantly Mr. Beecher’s whole expression and attitude changed. He would confront an interviewer and speak to him for half an hour in the most fluent and most eloquent terms, and would then take up the service of family prayer as if he had just come out of the devoutest solitude. It seemed to us that Mr. Beecher always talked in parables, so illustrative was his style of conversational exposition. Whatever he said in argument he finally typified in parable. ‘TMr. SpurgeoiT has been known to say that Mr. Beecher was “as myriad-minded a man as Shakespeare.” In a large sense that was literally so. He often preached on the same text, but he never preached the same sermon. Even when he repeated an illustration it was with variation of colour or figure. Who has preached so often upon Paul’s eulogy of love, and yet who can produce two reports of Mr. Beecher’s many discourses that can, in any substantial sense, be regarded as identical? I can never forget the reception accorded to him when he preached his first sermon in the City Temple. But before preaching that sermon he made an appearance in that church which became quite historical. He was present at the Thursday morning service. When Mrs. Beecher and he stood up together to sing the hymn, he supported the venerable lady by putting his arm around her. There they stood, two striking monuments representing old age, yet with a strange light of youthfulness playing upon the head of one of them. I had promised Mr. Beecher that I would not expect him to say anything to the congregation, but that I should he very glad if he would conclude my sermon with prayer, which he graciously consented to do. I had to undertake the delicate service of explaining our arrangement, and I am afraid I was betrayed into expressing the hope that Mr. Beecher would not only pray with us, but say something to us. I am reported to have said: “I have no wish to disturb the uniqueness of any man’s position or reputation. I see Mr. Beecher in the audience. Last week there was in England one Grand Old Man, this week there are two of them.” The effect was electric. The whole audience sprang up and cheered again and again, creating a scene remarkable for significance and enthusiasm. When Mr. Beecher came to the pulpit he said: “When Dr. Parker was preaching I said, ‘He is a lion! ’ but as he sought to tempt me into some kind of speech to you, I said, ‘He is a fox! ‘” But he did speak, and in his speaking he created an epoch in the history of my Thursday morning service. On the following Sunday Mr. Beecher preached in the City Temple. The attendance was not so much a congregation as a flood. Every nook, corner, cranny, step, and window-sill was flooded. At one time it was feared that a panic might ensue. People were so thronged and crushed that it seemed impossible for them to breathe. In a few minutes, however, everything settled into order and expectancy. When Mr. Beecher rose

the thrilling scene was completed, as it were, pictorially. The noble figure, the flowing white hair, the radiant face, the planet-like eyes, all combined to create a picture never to be forgotten. Then the sermon, — long, wise, tender, full of illustration, and apposite application to daily life, the whole constituting a masterly and brilliant exposition of divine truth.

If we can never forget Mr. Beecher’s visit to London, neither can we ever forget our visit to his charming house at Peekskill on the Hudson. What family prayer we had on the Sunday morning! Mr. Beecher gave out the hymns, read the Scriptures, entered heartily into the singing, and prayed like the father of the house, after which he lovingly kissed every one who had knelt with him at the sacred altar. Next day he would bring out his chariot and horses and drive us up hill and down dale with Jehu-like fury. I am not ashamed to say that the recklessness of his driving made me quite nervous. When he came to know this, he said, “I am sorry I did not know it before, or I certainly would have taken you over some dangerous places.” Mrs. Beecher quietly added, “I never have any fear when Henry is driving.” I am hound to say that Henry was my only fear, and that I never was more thankful than when I alighted safely at his door.

“Where is Henry now P” would he Mrs. Beecher’s quiet question, and the answer would he that Mr. Beecher was dictating an article to a shorthand writer. Shorthand writers seemed to he coming and going all the time at Peekskill. Once we were talking about lecturing, and I expressed my surprise that lecturers in America were so highly paid.

HEXRV WAHi) BEECHER I said to Mr. Beeclier, “The best lecturer in England Avoiild be quite satisfied if he received fifty dollars for a lecture.” I can never forget Mr. Beecher’s reply, spoken in a low but significant tone. Said he, “In our country any man who would lecture for fifty dollars would not be allowed to lecture at all.” So much for the difference of value of money in one country and another. I am afraid “lecturing “as a profession is going down in America; yet so lately as ten or twelve years ago it would be nothing uncommon for lecturers of Mr. Beecher’s standing to receive two hundred and fifty to five hundred dollars a night. I remember being in the house of Mr. J. B. Gough, the noted temperance lecturer, when he turned to a visitor and said,” You are going to give me four hundred dollars for my lecture at Philadelphia, are you not ‘’ “Yes,” said the secretary; “Ave shall give you four hundred dollars and make four hundred dollars more for ourselves.” These astronomical prices are unknown in England, yet England could well afford to remunerate all her acceptable public men.

When Mr. Beecher lectured in England he was received in the most handsome manner.

Amongst those who wrote to him, or attended his lectures, or in some other way expressed their interest in him were Lord Iddesleigh, the Dean of Westminster, the Dean of Canterbury, the Archdeacon of Westminster, Professor Tyndall, Herbert Spencer, and innumerable members of Parliament. Of all the meetings which he held I think the assembly of students in the City Temple, London, on Friday morning, October 15th, 1886, was the most remarkable. The rain descended in torrents, yet nearly three thousand ministers, professors, students, and visitors thronged the building. College classes were suspended, professors and students crowded the same pew, and not a few venerable pastors had to be content with campstools in the aisles of the church. Never was Mr, Beecher more lofty in thought, more eloquent in expression, more tender in feeling, and never did I see a multitude of earnest men more thoroughly excited with Christian joy when in their name and at their bidding I. as chairman of the meeting, offered Mr, Beecher the right hand of fellowship in token of thankfulness for reverence and love. The men who then stood up knew Mr. Beecher, knew his ministry, his books, his public controversies, his honours, and his sorrows; they

knew who had stood by him, who had withdrawn from him, who had slandered him, and who had trusted him; — and knowing all, they recognised in him not only an eloquent speaker and a powerful thinker, but an able minister of the New Testament and a loyal follower of the Son of God.

The most exciting incident Avhicli I remember in connection with my relation to Mr. Beecher occurred upon one memorable Sunday evening in the City Temple. The great trial had just been concluded in Brooklyn, and Mr. Beecher had come out of it to the inexpressible satisfaction of his countless friends in all sections of the Christian Church. My oayu feeling distinctly was that it would be most fitting that in such circumstances one Congregational Church should offer its congratulations to another. Why should not the City Temple telegraph a fraternal message to Plymouth Church? I did not conceive the idea of my congregation telegraphing to Mr, Beecher personally; my simple feeling was that one congregation should sympathise with another. Accordingly I drew up a full resolution of sympathy and brotherly love, and took it down to my evening service. Even after I reached the

A PREAUHER’S LIFE

pulpit I hardly knew what I should do with the resolution. Would the people accept it? Would they be willing to pay for the transmission of the message? Would the feeling of the congregation be divided? Would there be a considerable minority? The value of such a resolution would be immensely affected by the conditions under which it was passed, if passed at all. The public feeling ran so high that possibly an enemy of Mr. Beeclier, if such existed in London, might happen to be present, and might attempt to create a scene. All these thoughts and feelings passed through my mind as if in one thrilling moment. The sermon was concluded and the last hymn was being sung by the congregation. At length we had come to the last verse of the last hymn, and this was the moment of agony! What should I do? I had to consider not only myself, but Mr. Beecher. If the resolution should be carried by only a small majority, the fact would be used against Mr. Beecher. If there was a considerable minority, that fact also would not be unknown in America. But not a moment was to be lost. In that crisis I resolved to state the case and leave the issue with God and my people. Having stated two or three facts regarding the trial, and quoted the issue from the public newspapers, I said I should like the congregation to send a cable Fifissage to Plymouth Church. Having read that message I asked those avIio were in favour of it to signify their assent and to pledge their co-operation by standing up. Hardly were the words out of my mouth before the entire congregation, not less than three thousand in number, answered by a standing vote. Conspicuous amongst those who were the first to rise was Dr. W. Lindsay Alexander, the most respected and honoured minister of our order in Scotland. My relief and my grateful joy may be imagined. I recall the incident with thrilling pleasure, and I thank God that I had the courage to ask my people to take so noAcl and so bold a step. The next morning various Congregational ministers, amongst whom were Dr. Allon, Dr. Raleigh, and Dr. Aveling, met in my vestry, and drcAv up a resolution oF congratulation to bo forwarded to Mr. lieecher, the resolution being afterwards subscribed by not a fcAv of the most influential Congregational ministers of this country. Many timid people are afraid to take a decisive stey), and consequently mair an opportunity of comforting and sustairs*^^^ tried men is for ever lost. To the end of my life it will be a peculiar joy that we took the tide when it was in flood. “Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” was. to sta God auy