Mr. Tilden will never be considered inferior in intellect and learning to the many great men of whom New York can proudly boast. He will ever be ranked with Daniel Tompkins, George Clinton, William L. Marcy, Silas Wright, William H. Seward, John A. Dix and many others, and it is not strange that it was with a feeling of deep and genuine regret that on the 4th of August, 1886, the people were told of his sudden death at 'Greystone.'
[Henry Ward Beecher.]
A sturdy tree, standing alone in a vast field, suggesting strength, growth and independence, and regarded both as a landmark and a shelter; withstanding alike the heats of summer and wrestling with and throwing off the blasts of winter; drawing from Nature her myriad stores of nutrition and giving back to Nature a wealth of power and grace in return; seemed Henry Ward Beecher, in his youth of old age, to the observation of men. Original orator, advocate, poet, humorist, agitator, rhetorician, preacher, moralist and statesman. The greatest preacher of modern times, possibly of all times, the man was one of the wonders of America; one of the marvels of the world.
Henry Ward Beecher's career has been phenomenal for the activity and variety of its achievements. Coming from a long line of mentally alert and physically vigorous ancestors, he was richly endowed with the qualities going to make up the highest type of human nature. He was handicapped only in being the son of a man whose fame was world-wide; a preacher of such intensity of spirit and eloquence of expression that he stood at the head of, if not above, all of his contemporaries. Yet, while Dr. Lyman Beecher will always hold an honored place in American history and biography, who can deny that his fame has been far outshone by that of his brilliant son? It may be truly said, therefore, that Henry Ward Beecher won a double triumph. He emerged from the comparative obscurity in which he dwelt, behind the shadow of his father's greatness, and he lived to see his own name emblazoned more brightly and engraved more indelibly upon the records of time than that of his noble father.
He was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, June 24th, 1813. His father was a busy minister, and the mother divided her time among several children, so that no especial attention was paid to Henry Ward, nor was he considered more promising than some of the others. He was not, by any means, fond of books in early life. He gives the following sketch of himself in one of his personal writings: 'A hazy image of myself comes back to me—a lazy, dreamy boy, with his head on the desk, half-lulled asleep by the buzzing of a great blue-bottle fly, and the lowing of the cows, and the tinkling of their bells, brought into the open door, across the fields and meadows.' Through the advice of his father, he attended Mount Pleasant Academy. Afterwards he attended Amherst College where he graduated in 1834. During his last two years of school, Beecher followed the example of many another young man who has since attained eminence in his chosen profession, and taught in district schools. With the money thus obtained he laid the foundation upon which he built that splendid superstructure which is recalled at the sound of his name.
Dr. Lyman Beecher meanwhile had accepted a professorship at Lane Seminary, Cincinnati, and having decided to follow the ministry, the son went West this same year and began the study of theology under his father. He finished his course three years later, married, and accepted the first charge offered him; a small Presbyterian Church in Lawrenceburg, a little town on the Ohio river, near Cincinnati. Of this dismal beginning of his illustrious career he said:
"How poor we were! There were only about twenty persons in the flock. I was janitor as well as pastor of the little white-washed church. I bought some lamps and I filled them and lighted them. I swept the church and dusted the benches, and kindled the fire, and I didn't ring the bell, because there wasn't any; did everything in fact but come to hear myself preach, that they had to do. It doesn't occur to me now that Lawrenceburg was remarkable for anything but a superabundance of distilleries. I used to marvel how so many large distilleries could be put in so small a town. But they were flourishing right in the face of the Gospel, that my little flock and I were preaching in the shadows of the chimneys. My thoughts often travel back to my quaint little church and the big distilleries at Lawrenceburg. Well, my next move was to Indianapolis. There I had a more considerable congregation, though I was still far from rich in the world's goods. I believe I was very happy during my eight years out there. I liked the people. There was a hearty frankness, a simplicity in their mode of life, an unselfish intimacy in their social relations that attracted me. They were new people—unharrowed and uncultured like the land they lived on—but they were earnest and honest and strong. But the ague shook us out of the State. My wife's health gave out and we were forced to come East."
From this it would seem that chills and fever were the means used by Providence for bringing Henry Ward Beecher and Plymouth Church together. The church came into existence on the 8th of May, 1847, when six gentlemen met in Brooklyn at the house of one of their number, Mr. Henry C. Bowen, the present proprietor of the Independent, and formed themselves into a company of trustees of a new Congregational Church, the services of which they decided to begin holding at once in an edifice on Cranberry street, purchased from the Presbyterians. The following week Mr. Beecher happened to speak in New York, at the anniversary of the Home Missionary Society. He had already attracted some attention by his anti-slavery utterances, and the fearless manner in which he had preached against certain popular vices.
The founders of the new congregation invited him to deliver the opening sermon on the 16th. A great audience was present, and shortly afterwards the young preacher was asked to become the first pastor of the organization. He accepted, and on the 10th of the following October he entered upon the term of service which lasted until the day of his death. And what a pastorate that was! The congregation readily grew in numbers and influence until Plymouth Church and Henry Ward Beecher became household words all over the land, and a trip to Brooklyn to hear the great preacher grew to be an almost indispensable part of a stranger's visit to New York.