A Biography of Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Scoville SamuelЧитать онлайн книгу.
of feeling throughout the whole West. Going into my work in the midst of that state of affairs, I made up my mind distinctly that, with the help of God, I would never engage in any religious contention. I remember riding through the woods for long, dreary days, and I recollect at one time coming out into an open place where the sun shone down through to the bank of the river, and where I had such a sense of the love of Christ, of the nature of His work on earth, of its beauty and its grandeur, and such a sense of the miserableness of Christian men quarrelling and seeking to build up antagonistic churches—in other words, the kingdom of Christ rose up before my mind with such supreme loveliness and majesty—that I sat in my saddle, I do not know how long (many, many minutes; perhaps half an hour), and there, all alone, in a great forest of Indiana, probably twenty miles from any house, prayed for that kingdom, saying audibly, ‘I will never be a sectary.’ I remember promising Christ that if He would strengthen me and teach me how to work I would all my life long preach for His kingdom and endeavor to love everybody who was doing that work. Not that I would accept others’ belief, not that I would embrace their theology, not that I would endorse their ecclesiastical organizations; but whatever their instruments might be, if they were sincerely working for the kingdom of Christ I would never put a straw in their way and never strike a blow to their harm. By the grace of God I have kept that resolution to this day. There was so much good that came from the discussions and quarrels of the Old and New Schools by which at that period of my ministry I was surrounded. So much for the influence on my mind of those early scenes and experiences, which were more, in some respects, a theological school to me than Lane Seminary itself was.”
Mr. Beecher at the Time of his Marriage.
Such was the beginning of his ministry.
We may now retrace our steps a little to take a look at the beginning of his domestic life.
For seven years, like Jacob of old, he had labored, waiting for the time when he could claim his wife. Of course, until he was settled somewhere with some definite income, it was folly to think of marrying. But when he began preaching on trial at Lawrenceburg, and it seemed probable that he might be called there, his mind ran forward to when, having a definite home, he might go East for his bride. In his journal we find one of his written reveries:
Mrs. Beecher at the Time of her Marriage.
“Spring, March 1, 1837.—The winter has gone. Spring has come—the time of the singing of birds. How vividly does that little expression call up the whole scene—the bright sun, the mild air, the heaven full of sweet influences, and the green sprouting grass among patches of snow, and the swelling buds! Every voice echoes in the air, and all sounds are mellow. The falling of a plank, the pound of a hammer or beetle, the rumble of a wagon, all, this morning, sound like joyful music. But I have one thought sweeter than any of these, which makes these sweet: it is that now only spring and summer are to fly before I meet my dear wife, not again to be parted, except by death!”
In July, 1837, having been formally called, though before his ordination—it then being apparent that he was to be definitely settled at Lawrenceburg—he wrote to Miss Bullard, suggesting that their marriage be celebrated shortly after his ordination, which was then expected to be in the following September. He had no sooner written and mailed the letter when he said to himself, as he explained to his wife later: “Why should I wait for my ordination? Why not have my wife present at it? And I started that very afternoon.”
His letter reached Miss Bullard in the morning of Saturday, July 29, and he himself appeared in the evening of the same day, to the great surprise of all. His plan was explained, and after a hasty discussion August 3 was fixed on for the wedding, and three o’clock in the afternoon the hour.
“I was expected to be ready to leave in the afternoon of August 3,” writes Mrs. Beecher. “The wedding-dress and wedding-cake were to be made—for what New England damsel could be married without wedding-cake? At one o’clock Monday morning I began my work, sewing until the family were up. After the breakfast was over the materials for the wedding-cake were brought from the village store, and Henry and I began the work for the cake. He picked over and stoned the raisins—taking abundant toll while doing it—beating the eggs, and in every way made himself useful, and kept the whole family in good spirits and cheerful, when, but for him, in such hurried preparations we might have felt the great exertion severely. But the work was done, and the 3d of August dawned bright and rosy.
“Very few guests were invited outside of the brothers and sisters, with their families, who were near enough to the old home to reach us. Both my sisters were married in a storm, and I had always said I would not be. Three o’clock was the hour appointed for the wedding. About two a heavy thunder-shower came on, and it began to rain, thunder, and lighten. At three o’clock we were summoned, but I said: ‘Wait until the storm passes,’ and, in spite of their remonstrance, they did wait. At four o’clock the clouds broke away and the sun appeared, and we were ushered into the parlor, Henry and I together. Just as we were entering the door (it was very warm, and door and windows all open) a rainbow, the most brilliant I ever saw, and so remarked by all in the room, seemed through the open window to span the parlor, and the spectators said we walked under its arch to our places. In his prayer the clergyman spoke of the ‘bow of peace and promise,’ which he hoped was the beautiful symbol of what our lives were to be.
“We rode to Worcester after the long farewells were said, not expecting to meet the home friends again for years.”
A few days later Mr. Beecher wrote from New York to his sister, Mrs. Stowe:
“My very dear Sister:
“Before this gets to you, you will have begun to look for us and wonder that we do not write or come. This is to certify that we are alive, safely and thoroughly married. Coming, and came as far as New York. Now, this damsel, my most comely wife, longing for the leeks and cucumbers of Boston, did freely eat thereof, and these, as in duty bound, did most freely hurt her. Three days she bore it, but on arriving at New York they had come well-nigh to the cholera morbus; and thus we are detained for a few days. The doctor’s prescriptions have acted like a charm. She is relieved, and rapidly grows better. Nevertheless, it being now Thursday, we shall tarry until Monday for her to gain strength, and then, God willing, we shall set our faces westward and travel like the wind. We were married on Thursday afternoon, at four o’clock, August the third. We went immediately to Worcester, to Mr. Barton’s. Nothing could surpass his delicate kindness to us.
“I preached a preparatory lecture to the three churches on Friday P.M., and preached twice for Mr. Peabody on Sunday. Monday left for Boston. Stayed until Tuesday of the week ensuing. Preached in Bowdoin church in the morning of Sunday, and at Park Street in the P.M. Was invited to preach all day at Bowdoin, and also all day at Odeon, but preferred my course. Left for New York on Tuesday noon; arrived next morning. Am at Rev. Mr. Jones’s (Mrs. Beecher’s brother-in-law), and very pleasantly situated. Lucy Ann is a dear, sweet sister, and Mr. Jones a most amiable and well-read, gentlemanly man. Probably I shall preach here on the Sabbath, but nothing has yet been definitely said.
“Shall return by Pittsburgh, leaving this place on Monday next, if God wills. At that rate you may calculate upon seeing us somewhere about the middle of the week ensuing.
“Ah! Harriet, how I long to see you and Calvin. I shall soon show you my dear, dear wife. I grow more and more proud of her every day. …
“Love to all—for I love you all, even to the little homely kitten—and love to all our folks, Margaret Hastings and all.
“Yours most affectionately, dear Harriet,
“H. W. B.”
Leaving New York, they started westward, partly by rail, partly by steamer, and not a little by the slow method of the canal; travelled day and night, until they finally reached Cincinnati the last of August.
From Mrs. Beecher’s