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MEMOIRS OF _Mrs. Rebecca Steward_,
CONTAINING:
A FULL SKETCH OF HER LIFE, WITH VARIOUS SELECTIONS FROM HER
WRITINGS AND LETTERS; ALSO CONTRIBUTIONS FROM BISHOP CAMPBELL,
D.D., PROF. B. F. LEE, OF WILBERFORCE UNIVERSITY, B. T. TANNER,
D.D., EDITOR OF THE _Christian Recorder_, REV. T. GOULD, MRS.
ELIZABETH LLOYD, AND WM. STEWARD,
BY REV. T. G. STEWARD.
The motto I taught my boys was "Aim at the Sun! If you do not
bring it down, you will shoot higher than if you had aimed at
the earth."--REBECCA STEWARD.
"Her children shall rise up and call her blessed."
PUBLISHED AT THE
_Publication Department of the A. M. E. Church_,
No. 631 Pine St., Philadelphia, Pa.
1877.
_Copyright, 1877, by Rev. T. G. Steward._
To DANIEL A. PAYNE, D.D.,
Senior Bishop of the African Methodist Episcopal Church:
IN RECOGNITION OF HIS LEARNING, TALENTS AND PIETY: AND AS A
TESTIMONIAL TO HIS HIGH APPRECIATION OF FEMALE EXCELLENCE, THIS
LITTLE VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
Introduction,
In Memoriam, Poem,
PART I.
CHAPTER I.--Ancestory and Parents,
CHAPTER II.--Birth, Home, etc.,
CHAPTER III.--Wife, Mother, Writer,
CHAPTER IV.--Children all married,
CHAPTER V.--Retrospection,
Reminiscences, by Bishop Campbell,
My Recollections,--Prof. B. F. Lee,
Mrs. Rebecca Steward, by Dr. Tanner,
Mrs. Rebecca Steward, by Rev. T. Gould,
Aunt Rebecca Steward,--Mrs. E. Lloyd,
PART II.
"Two years on the Brink of Jordan,"
Sanctification, by Mrs. R. S.,
" " "
" conclusion " "
Story, " "
Poetry, " "
INTRODUCTION
A life finished, is a proper subject for contemplation and study. To
the Christian, whose eye is ever turning to the end of life, nothing
can be more interesting than the life and death of the saints. It is
never difficult to secure a large congregation to the funeral services
of a well known Christian.
In looking upon a life closed, from a Christian standpoint, we see the
Divine and the human blended. We see human nature moulded by divinely
cast circumstances; we see character developed and displayed through
these occasional circumstances. The "hidden man of the heart" is
brought out, and we are able to see the _inner_ through the _outer_
life.
To this pleasant and profitable study, the reader of these pages is
invited. He will be brought in contact with a life, humble and perhaps
commonplace, but interesting at every step, because always earnest
and real. He is invited to follow that life through a responsible,
laborious and thorny pathway; and to see manifest, a character always
glowing in brightness and stronger than any emergency.
He may learn the secret of that brightness and strength if he will. It
is not of man but of God. He may hear a faith express itself before
great difficulties (as I have often times) in these words: "Who art
thou O great mountain? before _Zerubbabel_, thou shalt become a
plain." Zech. IV. 7.
And, if his eyes are cleared to see the things of God, as were those
of Elisha's servant, as he and his master stood in the midst of the
Syrian hosts at Dothan, he will see, not the mountains round about
full of horses and chariots of fire; but a heavenly light streaming
down upon the toiler, and a crown of resplendent glory held in her
full view;--an angelic hand guiding her as she slowly pursues her way,
sometimes weeping but often singing, through the inspiration of the
hope set before her.
In presenting a sketch of this life I attempt to fulfill a threefold
duty. First, it is an act of obedience to the feelings of my own
heart. An imperious sentiment forces me to the task. This book is the
tribute I bring to cast upon the tomb of a loved mother! Secondly, I
essay to discharge this duty in obedience to the wish of many
relatives and dear friends. I feel myself honored in a very high
degree in being thus called to so delicate a responsibility, and I can
but deeply feel my inabilities. Knowing, however, their sincere regard
for the person whose name I endeavor to commemorate, I feel somewhat
encouraged to entrust to their generosity my best efforts. Lastly, the
interests of Christianity seem to demand this at my hands. A voice
from above which I regard as that of the Master urges me to lay before
the Christian world this life, as a help and solace to the many
struggling ones. Reverently bowing to this call, and imploring His
blessings upon the humble effort, I assume the pen. May the Lord own
the work! And here I desire also to express my profound thanks to
those distinguished Christians, who have contributed most essentially
to this volume, and to the many more, whose letters of sympathy and
love have furnished inspiration to the performance of this sad, yet
pleasing duty.
T. G. S.
In Memoriam.
BY WILLIAM STEWARD ("WILL.")
"They are love's last gifts, bring ye flowers, pale flowers."--MRS.
HEMANS.
I stand alone beside the silent mound,
The dull, cold earth beneath me, and the sky
Dark blue o'er head.--The spacious hills around
Nor charms the gaze of my grief wearied eye;
Sad, tired, forlorn, I sink upon the sod,
With rev'rent awe and mournful bareed head,
I try to raise my thoughts to mother's God,
And with affection contemplate the dead.
I am a boy again--a lisping child,
With sunny face and merry prattling tongue;
I totter forth with joyous fancy wild,
And sing the lullaby we last night sung;
My young heart bounds with radiant happiness
As some new toy my angel-mother gives,
Or stoops to pat my head with sweet caress,
And my glad lips her cherished kiss receives.
Now I am grown to boyhoods first estate;
And thorns of life 'gin prick me one by one,--
Now aspiration's hopes, my thoughts elate,
And now by disappointments am cast down;
The daily avocations of the farm
Bring each in turn their elements of woe,
But mother's heart, its beatings always warm,
Is a sure haven where I ever go.
Th' unruly horse my youthful strength o'erpowers,
Or vicious cattle wear my patience bare,
Each is recounted of in evening hours,
In boyhood's confidence in mother's ear,--
Ah! we six childish ones with each our cares--
Bespeak we each ones place, in mother's heart,
Where we each pour our trouble, hopes and fears,
And mother, tenderly takes each one's part.
And at th' appointed hour the father comes;
His day's work o'er, prompt, day and day the same,
Then happiest ours of all the happy homes
Our lessons coning, or with sportive game,--
Oh would those days of childhood linger still--
The ev'ning game prolong--e'en daily task
Is welcomed linger! youthful years ye will
Be vanished and your stay in vain we ask!
Too soon with quickning steps the eager days
Bring manhood's strength--our childhood all outgrown
And then for life we take our sep'rate ways,
Each son and daughter choose a course their own;
Too soon, alas! the shadowy curtain falls
And sorrows, real, begin to cast their gloam,
Our consciences' tickle with increasing galls
As each new silv'ry hair comes to our home.
Dear cherished ones, thy load we now wish lighter,
Since we are grown, and see thy waning years,
Thy daily walks we would see fair and brighter,
But ev'ry effort still augments thy cares;
Affliction's hand, spares not the burdened mother,
But suff'rings, long, great, are thy constant lot;
Nor stintless hand divides it with another
Who'd die for thee and for thee be forgot.
Grown, stalwart boys and buxome girls we all are
And fain would bring renown to thy dear name--
Pride to thy heart, and comfort to thy leisure
By some good noble deeds, and worthy fame,
Alas, how short we've come! When thou complaisant
Looked on expectant for some virtuous act,
How Self appeared like some fierce tigress couchant,
And we with evil motive seemed impact!
And thou art gone! Well do I remember
Our childhood's days again--I'd live them o'er--
When chilly blasts of sleeting, bleak December
Kept us, long ev'nings, close within the door,
We stories begged and then some Bible tale--
Of David's valor, or Saul's treachery
Of Moses meekness or Methus'lah hale--
Of Abraham's faith or Esau's jealousy.
Of Enoch's constancy in serving God,
Of Joseph, sold a slave; of Egypt's kings,
Of Pharaoh's plagues, and Moses' wond'rous rod,
And of the Psalms which ev'ry Christian sings,
Of John the Baptist, Christ the living Word
Which was made flesh, and came and dwelt with men,
Who was, and is, and shall be, God the Lord;
Of His disciples, Holy ones, and then
The Revelation, and the last Great Day,
Each in its turn, in loving tones, was given
And thus our mother thought to point the way
With truthful finger, to the gates of Heaven;
The great "Old Bible" then across her knee
Was tender laid,--I see her sparkling eye,--
With trem'lous voice she read the "Verily"
And hushed, we listen'd, 'till no eye was dry.
Then, kneeling, when the Word had well been read
In very confidence she talked with God,
And then with happy tears we went to bed,
Now Mother lies beneath the silent sod!
And thus, when father was away at toil
In fact'ry's buzz, his cherished ones to keep,
Giving his strength for them, in hot turmoil,
We, his dear ones, were wrapped in blissful sleep.
But she is gone! we've laid her down to rest
In a soft bed of satin, white and pure
We spread her o'er white rose buds on her breast,
And bade her soul, waft to the better shore!
Where mansions fair unnumbered stand prepared
For her and hers--her Lord had told her so
His Fathers house, to her he said, was shared
By those who loved as she had loved below.
And would I grieve? Yes, many a poisoned dart
Have I with wilful hand flung straight at thee,
Yet stood aghast, when it did prick thy heart,
I mourn in silence, now--thou'rt gone from me;
Father, and we, the six yet still are here
And for thy sake will serve each others good--
Grief answers grief, now comes the ready tear,
To bring thee back we'd weep thee tears of blood;
And would we weep for thee to call thee hence?
Again instate thee in this world of woe,
Would we rebel and murmur--dread offence--
Against the God whose mandate bade thee go?
Nay, wearied one, fly to thy hav'n of rest,
God wills it so; content we are to be
Without thee here, thou dwell'st among the blest
Forever safe in realms prepared for thee.
PART I.
Life and Character.
CHAPTER I.
ANCESTRY AND PARENTS.
In Cumberland County, in the southern part of the State of New Jersey,
may be found a little settlement called "Gouldtown." It contains a
church, a school house, a blacksmith shop, a wheelwright shop, two
stores and a post office. The community is made up almost entirely of
farmers, and is of course very conservative as to modes of thought and
expression.
It takes its name from the large family of Gould's who have so long
occupied the place. There are, however, three other families more or
less intermixed with the Gould family; viz: The Pierces, the Murrays,
and the Cuffs; but the Goulds have usually maintained the leading
position, both in number and influence.
Tradition connects this family with the early settlers of the State.
John Fenwick, an Englishman, who had been a Major in the Parliamentary
army under Cromwell, and who had been specially appointed by Cromwell
to "see the sentence of death pronounced against the king, (Charles
I.,) executed, in the open streets before Whitehall," after the
Restoration emigrated to America. He had adopted the religious views
of George Fox, and became associated with William Penn.
He arrived in New Jersey (Caesarea) in the year 1675, accompanied by
his three daughters, two of whom were married, their husbands, five
grandchildren, and ten servants.
One grand-daughter, Elizabeth, aged at the time of their arrival in
America at eleven years, subsequently caused him much grief, and, it
is said did much to bring his gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. "He
does not disguise the sense of shame that hangs over him from her
course of life, and strives to make her understand his displeasure, by
depriving her of any part of his property, immediate or prospective,
but on certain conditions."--_Life of John Fenwick by John Clemens._
The crime committed by Elizabeth, was uniting herself in wedlock to a
_black man_. It may have been an informal wedlock; as perhaps no one
could be found in the colony who would have dared solemnize or record
such a marriage. For its legality it may have had to depend upon
Heaven's authority, and not upon the par-blind courts of men. The
"certain conditions" upon which Elizabeth might share a part of her
grandfather's property were, to leave "that Black," and repent of her
sins. (See Fenwick's will.)
A tradition universally accepted, connects the Goulds with the issue
of this marriage. The name of this man, however, is not found in any
of the family records, and in Fenwick's will he is simply
contemptuously called "that Black." A vague tradition says he was a
slave whom Fenwick purchased of some trading vessel, giving in
exchange for him a barrel of rum. If this should be true, the sequel
shows how large a trouble he bought with a small price.
Benjamin Gould, the first Gould of whom we have any record, is
declared to be the son of this Elizabeth. He is supposed to have had a
brother named Richard. The dust of Benjamin Gould and "Ann" his wife,
lies buried in the old family graveyard at Gouldtown.
To them were born Elisha, Abijah, Samuel and Anthony. Samuel died
January 26th, 1793, and Abijah in 1806. Very little, indeed, is known
of this generation.
It was simply an obscure family, struggling against terrible odds, and
yet possessing intelligence sufficient to preserve some records and
establish a graveyard.
The graveyard is a hallowed rallying place. Abraham's first possession
in the land of promise was a family burying ground; and to this sacred
spot as a last earthly resting place, his immediate descendants were
taught to look.
To Abijah Gould were born Benjamin, Richard, Abijah Jr., Furman,
Leonard and Hannah.
FURMAN GOULD was for many years a licensed local preacher in the
African M. E. Church and was an honored member of the Philadelphia
Annual Conference. The older members of that Conference will readily
remember his venerable appearance, coupled with his somewhat brusque
and positive manners. He was a man who had views of his own, and the
hardihood to express them.
BENJAMIN GOULD quite early in life married Phoebe Bowen, a young woman
brought up in the family of Reuben Cuff of Salem, N. J. To them were
born Oliver, Tamson, Lydia, Jane, Abijah, Sarah, Rebecca, Phoebe and
Prudence.
This Benjamin Gould, the brother of the Rev. Furman Gould, is
doubtless well remembered by the older itinerant preachers, who
labored in that section of the country, as for instance the Rev.
Richard Barney and Bishop Wayman. He was a man of recognized worth,
for many years chief steward of the church, of some literary culture,
quite a wag, and very fond of practical jokes. He was a thrifty farmer
for his times, and quite an extensive dealer in cordwood and hoppoles.
PHOEBE GOULD, his wife, was possessed of considerable intelligence
and evinced a fondness for learning. Deeply pious, her mind was well
stored with Bible truths and with choice hymns. She manifested a
fondness for children, and could repeat from memory to their delight
many long stories in verse; and she never failed to leave upon them an
impression for good. She seemed to live in a very holy frame, and did
not fail to bless all who came near her.
Benjamin Gould, the father of Rebecca Steward, passed away on the 18th
of May 1851, and twenty-six years after on the same day of the month
and at the same hour in the day, viz., May 18th 1877, Phoebe Gould,
the mother, followed him to that better land. The heads of the family
are gone over, and one by one the children who have walked in the
footsteps of their parents are being gathered home after them. The
latest grave is that which contains the precious dust of REBECCA
STEWARD, fifth daughter of Benjamin and Phoebe Gould.