The “Silver Wedding” of Plymouth Church—Children’s Day—Services in the
Church—Reunion of old Members—Historical Reminiscences—Dr. Storrs’s
Tribute.
As in nature violent storms are often succeeded by peaceful calms, and
as the sun shines brightest and the air seems clearest and most purified
after the thunder-storm has broken and passed away, so in Mr. Beecher’s
life we find that the stormy trials that beset him, at different
periods, were followed by calms, in which the sun of popular favor shone
the brightest; by periods of peace, during which he seemed endowed with
increased power for useful work.
It was his lot to be generally a few years ahead of the times, but it
was his good fortune to live to see his views accepted, and to find his
hottest critics standing on the very ground, that they had so fiercely
assailed him for occupying, but just a short time before.
So, for some years after 1866, we find him working with increased power
and usefulness in his church, from the lecture platform, and through the
columns of the press. His church had never been more prosperous, his
people never more active in all departments of good work; never had he
had so wide a field in which to labor. His sermons, which at first had
only been printed in certain papers, were now issued in book-form, and
were read wherever the English tongue prevailed.
From his pulpit went forth words of cheer, of hope and love, that lifted
up weary hearts, that infused new life in desponding souls, that shed a
new light in upon spirits that had lived in the darkness of sin,
throughout the civilized globe. His sermons were translated into German,
French, Spanish, and Italian. No four walls, no State boundaries, nor
the limits of any one nation, held his congregation.
In this period he undertook, in addition to his ordinary duties and
labors, the principal literary work of his life, writing “Norwood,”
completing the first volume of “The Life of Christ,” organizing and
carrying on the _Christian Union_ as its editor-in-chief.
Though the shadows of the coming trouble began, during the later part of
this period, to fall across his path, at times darkening and oppressing
his inner life, yet to the world, to the church, and to his friends it
seemed as if a lasting season of peace and prosperity had settled down
upon Plymouth Church, and its pastor, promising many years of
uninterrupted and blessed usefulness.
October 10, 1872, completed the full quarter-century of Mr. Beecher’s
pastorate at Plymouth Church. His people determined to celebrate in
fitting manner this “Silver Wedding,” as it was called. It was decided
to devote the week in which the anniversary occurred to the celebration
of this jubilee.
In the minds of his people there might well have been some little
feeling of pride and triumphant jubilation. They had seen Plymouth, from
the little handful, twenty-one in all, whose organization had awakened
prophecies of a speedy death, grow to the great church of over
twenty-seven hundred, with its three large Sunday-schools—Plymouth,
Bethel, and Mayflower—the nurseries of the church, where nearly three
thousand scholars gathered every Sunday to learn the way of life. They
had seen its influence extended throughout the entire nation, throughout
the civilized globe, a power for good. They had seen churches by the
score spring from its loins, and not a few had they seen, in periods of
weakness when liable to fail, kept alive, nourished, and sustained by
its strong hand until strong enough to stand alone.
Its history formed a part of the nation’s history in the dark days of
slavery, in the struggle for national existence, and the exciting period
of reconstruction, as has been well said: “For the better part of a
generation Plymouth Church, under the influence of Mr. Beecher, has been
a conspicuous light among the churches of the land. It has been the
birthplace of countless good works which have blessed the whole
community. It has been the nursery of noble impulses, of free thought,
of patriotism, of generous and inspiriting actions. Its pupils have gone
out into all parts of the country, carrying its fresh spirit with them,
to infect other communities. Its influence is felt from Maine to the
Pacific, and its memory is to-day affectionately cherished by thousands
who were never within its walls and never saw its preacher.”
But in Mr. Beecher’s heart, while not forgetful of the glorious record
of his church, the predominating feeling was one of profound gratitude
to God.
In his Friday night prayer-meeting preceding the jubilee he expressed
his feelings to his people:
“If I thought next week was to be a kind of historical glorification of
this church; still worse, if I thought it was to be a sort of personal
glorification, I should shrink from it with more than dislike—with
positive loathing. It has pleased God to recognize the instrumentality
of this church in the work it has done for the last quarter of a
century; but, after all, the reason of its success, the absolute cause
of its moral power, has been the presence of God, and the preaching of
the Lord Jesus Christ, here during the last quarter of a century; and if
we have a celebration, it ought to be a celebration of what the Lord has
done among us. The feeling ought to be that of gratitude, and of the
most profound recognition of the goodness and mercy and loving-kindness
of our Lord and Saviour, who has walked in our households and in the
midst of this artificial Christian family, and has not ceased to do us
good, for the past twenty five years.
“So, that all the services of the week may be infused with a more
reverent and loving sense of the Lord’s mercy to us, I hope you will
give yourselves to prayer in your closets and in your homes. May it be a
week, not for the laudation of men or of churches, but for a grateful
recognition of God’s way with us, and of that dear name which should be
dearer to us every day that we live, until we shall see Him in His glory
for ever.”
Monday, October 7th, was the first day of the jubilee. This was
“Children’s day,” the exercises being devoted principally to the
Sunday-schools.
In the afternoon the three schools united in one column and marched past
Mr. Beecher’s house; as they filed by, the schools gave their pastor, as
he stood upon his doorstep, a marching salute. Each child as it passed
cast a flower at his feet, until he stood literally embanked in flowers.
The day was wondrously beautiful, sunny, clear, and crisp—as though
glorious October, nature’s painter, catching the prevailing enthusiasm,
was consciously contributing its share to make the occasion a success.
Mr. Beecher was deeply touched. “We gave Monday to the children—and a
beautiful day it was—and a sight brighter than which I shall not see
until I look in the New Jerusalem, and see all the children who have
left us for that better land.”
Tuesday, as “Teachers’ day,” was devoted to a reunion of the teachers
and officers then serving or who had done duty in either of the three
Sunday-schools.
Wednesday, as “Members’ day,” was like a great family reunion: it was
the home day.
The church auditorium, the lecture-room and Sunday-school rooms,
decorated with flowers, were thrown open to the members. We quote a
description of the decorations: “What with the warbling of sweet-voiced
birds, the profusion of leafy and floral decorations artistically
arranged, the many beautiful paintings, the liquid, melodious strains
from a band of musicians with stringed instruments stationed in the
gallery, the picturesque though sober dresses of the lady-promenaders,
but, above all, the vocal sound of animated, sparkling conversation, a
kaleidoscopic picture was presented which awakened and gratified all the
senses, and which, however, could only be appreciated by an
eye-witness.”
The exercises were eminently social, a part of the evening being devoted
to humorous reminiscences, by the older members, of the “early days.”
Music and a lunch helped to increase the general enjoyment.
Thursday, “Historical day,” was, more perhaps than any other, a public
day. As the name indicates, it was devoted to a review of the church,
its growth in size, in works, and its ever-extending influence for good.
From Mr. Beecher’s speech we give only the opening and closing
paragraphs, which briefly review the beginning of his pastorate in
Plymouth Church, his purpose in his work, and its continuance to that
time:
“At my first coming I had no plans; I had marked out no future; I had no
theories to establish, no system to found, no doctrines to demolish, no
oppugnation of any kind. I remember distinctly that over and over again
I held account with myself; and I came into this field simply and only
to work for the awakening of men, for their conversion to Christ, and
for their upbuilding in a Christian life. I had almost a species of
indifference as to means and measures. I cared little, and perhaps too
little, whether I had or had not a church-building. I thought of one
thing—the love of Christ to men. This, to me, was a burning reality.
Less clearly than now, perhaps, did I discern the whole circuit and orb
of the nature of Christ; but with a burning intensity I realized the
love of God in Jesus Christ. I believed it to be the one transcendent
influence in this world by which men should be roused to a higher
manhood, and should be translated into another and better kingdom. My
purpose was to preach Christ to men for the sake of bringing them to a
higher life. And though I preferred the polity and economy of the
Congregational Church, yet I also felt that God was in all the other
churches, and that it was no part of my ministry to build up sectarian
walls; that it was no part of my ministry to bombard and pull down
sectarian structures; but that the work of my ministry was to find the
way to the hearts of men, and to labor with them for their awakening,
and conversion, and sanctification.
“I have said that I had no theory; but I had a very strong impression on
my mind that the first five years in the life of a church would
determine the history of that church and give to it its position and
genius; that if the earliest years of a church were controversial or
barren it would take scores of years to right it, but that if a church
were consecrated, and active, and energetic during the first five years
of its life, it would probably go on through generations developing the
same features. My supreme anxiety, therefore, in gathering a church, was
to have all of its members united in a fervent, loving disposition; to
have them all in sympathy with men; and to have all of them desirous of
bringing to bear the glorious truths of the Gospel upon the hearts and
consciences of those about them....”
“I bless God when I look back. I have lived my life, and no man can take
it from me. The mistakes that I have made—and they are many—none know so
well as I. My incapacity and insufficiency none can feel so profoundly
as I.... And yet I have this witness: that for twenty-five years I have
not withheld my strength, and have labored in simplicity and with
sincerity of motive for the honor of my God, and for the love that I
bear to you, and for the ineradicable love that I have for my country
and for the world.
“My time is drawing near; but if I should fall to-morrow, I have lived.
I have seen this land rise up from its drunkenness and its shame. I have
seen the original principles of liberty, which had well-nigh been
buried, come like Lazarus forth from the grave. What if, for the first
few steps of the new life—bound hand and foot in grave-clothes, and with
a napkin about his head, staggering somewhat—it knew not how to find the
rightful path? Our country is free; and it has pleased God to give you
and me some part in the work of enfranchisement and the settlement of
this land on the old foundation of truth and justice and universal
liberty.
“I have lived through a quarter of a century, and had a free platform;
and you have sustained me in speaking just what I thought to be true.
You have never servilely believed anything because I said it; for you
have maintained opinions different from mine from the beginning to the
end....
“I am admonished that the best of my years are past and that my sun will
soon go down. Let it go down to-day, to-morrow, whenever it may please
God. I will not ask for the lengthening out of one single day. I have
lived a happy life. I have been a happy pastor. I have loved you and
been beloved by you. I have seen your children come up and walk in the
ways of life. I have gone down with hundreds to see the framework laid
in the dust, believing that the spirit was above. We have come down
together, without a quarrel, without a break, and without a shaking of
confidence, to this blessed hour. And now, in these closing words which
I address to you and to all who are present, join with me, not in
self-gratulation, nor in the interchange of compliments, but in
thanksgiving to Christ that has loved us, to the Spirit of God that has
inspired us, and to the dear Father that has kept us together in the one
household of faith, beloved and loving, thus far.”
Twenty-five years before Dr. Storrs gave the right hand of fellowship to
Mr. Beecher at his installation, then to encourage him to future labor.
Again he gives him the hand of fellowship, but now, in words tender and
eloquent, to dwell on the work done, to congratulate him on the rich and
abundant harvest he had garnered, and to testify his brotherly love and
admiration. The scene was a solemnly touching one, as Dr. Storrs, in the
words we quote, closed his glowing tribute to the man who, for
twenty-five years, had stood by his side laboring for a common cause,
and who had loved him as a brother:
“At any rate, we have stood side by side in all these years; and they
have been wonderful and eventful years.
“‘Our eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,
When He loosed the fateful lightnings of His terrible swift sword,
And His truth went marching on!’
“We have differed many times, but two men so unlike never stood side by
side with each other, for so long a time, in more perfect harmony,
without a jealousy or a jar! Though we have differed in opinion, we have
never differed in feeling. We have walked to the graves of friends in
company. We have sat at the table of the Lord in company. He knows, as
he has said, that when other voices were loud and fierce in hostility to
him mine never joined them. When other pens wrote his name, dropping
gall and venom as they wrote it, my pen never touched the paper except
in honor and admiration of him. And _I_ know that whenever I have wanted
counsel or courage given me from others, he has always been ready, from
the overflowing surplus of his surcharged mind, to give them to me.
“So we have stood side by side—blessed be God!—in no spirit but of
fraternal love, for that long space of twenty-five years which began
with the Right Hand of Fellowship then, and closes before you here
to-night.
“I am not here, my friends, to repeat the service which then I
performed. It would be superfluous. When I think of the great assemblies
that have surged and thronged around this platform, when I think of the
influences that have gone out from this pulpit into all the earth, I
feel that less than almost any other man on earth does he need the
assurance of fellowship from any but the Son of God! But I am here
to-night for another and a different service! On behalf of you who
tarry, and of those who have ascended from this congregation; on behalf
of Christians of every name throughout our city, who have had such joy
and pride in him, and the name of whose town has, by him, been made
famous in the earth; on behalf of all our churches, now growing to be an
army; on behalf of those in every part of our land who have never seen
his face or heard his voice, but who have read and loved his sermons,
and been quickened and blessed by them; on behalf of the great
multitudes who have gone up from every land which his sermons have
reached—never having touched his hand on earth, but waiting to greet him
by and by—I am here to-night [taking Mr. Beecher by the hand] to give
him the Right Hand of Congratulation, on the closing of this
twenty-fifth year of his ministry, and to say: God be praised for all
the work that you have done here! God be praised for the generous gifts
which He has showered upon you, and the generous use which you have made
of them, here and elsewhere, and everywhere in the land! God give you
many happy and glorious years of work and joy still to come in your
ministry on earth! May your soul, as the years go on, be whitened more
and more in the radiance of God’s light, and in the sunshine of His
love! And, when the end comes—as it will—may the gates of pearl swing
inward for your entrance, before the hands of those who have gone up
before you, and who now wait to welcome you thither; and then may there
open to you that vast and bright Eternity—all vivid with God’s love—in
which an instant vision shall be perfect joy, and an immortal labor
shall be to you immortal rest!”
“This magnificent concluding passage,” said the Brooklyn _Union_ of the
next day, “was uttered with an eloquence that defies description. At its
conclusion Mr. Beecher, with tears, and trembling from head to foot,
arose, and, placing his hand on Dr. Storrs’s shoulder, kissed him upon
the cheek. The congregation sat for a moment breathless and enraptured
with this simple and beautiful action. Then there broke from them such a
burst of applause as never before was heard in an ecclesiastical
edifice. There was not a dry eye in the house.”
Friday, “Communion day,” ended the jubilee. After a brief season of
prayer and remarks, the solemn service of the Lord’s Supper closed the
meeting, over two thousand persons participating in the communion.
The week was a blessed one for pastor and people, making stronger the
bonds of love, confidence, and mutual trust that united them into a
single church, and, no doubt, helped and strengthened both in the
crossing of that stormy sea of trouble, at the very shore of which they
were then standing.
Little could the people of Plymouth Church foresee as they crowded
around their pastor, striving, in loving emulation, to out-do each other
in marks of affection and confidence, that the most infamous conspiracy
of modern times was rapidly involving pastor and church in a network of
wicked lies.
None would have believed in those happy days that the very men who owed
most to their pastor, who had received at his hands aid and comfort when
most needed, whom he had nurtured and strengthened by his love, were
using the very power they had derived through him, to destroy their
benefactor; with the malignant ingenuity of the fallen angel, were
weaving webs of falsehood and misrepresentation about his feet, working
on his feelings, ever sensitive to any neglect of duty upon his part, by
false statements of injury done by his thoughtlessness or neglect;
cunningly interweaving his exaggerated outbursts of self-accusing grief
with their falsehoods, prepared by them, with cool deliberation, to fit
his words. They sought by his very horror of evil to give the appearance
of evil. Closing his mouth by a pledge they well knew his honor would
observe, they, disregarding their pledges, by busy whisperings strove to
fasten suspicion on him, who, they knew, would not speak in
self-defence.
The warmth of that heart that loved all mankind, that bore malice to
none, but sought by greater loving-kindness to overcome enmity,
returning good for evil, fell upon a serpent’s nest, warming into life
the malignant, venomous brood, the intensity of whose desire to injure
seemed in the proportion that each had been benefited. The eggs had
hatched, and the serpents were daily growing stronger and more
dangerous.
But least of all did Plymouth Church suspect that those whose hands they
had just grasped in fraternal love, who, by their own teachings and
their calling, should have been slow to believe evil of their brethren,
would in a few short weeks join hands with her bitterest enemies,
lending to them the moral support of their own blameless lives and high
reputations, giving them advice, aid, and comfort, opening their
churches as an asylum to the discontented and treacherous in Plymouth
Church; and, even while the words of brotherly love and deep, abiding
confidence, just flown from their lips, were ringing with joy and
comfort in the heart of their brother, would lend the ears of ready
listeners, to the base tales of baser men—men whom they themselves knew
to be tainted in honor and morals—holding their cloaks to screen the
would-be assassins.