CHAPTER XXXII.

1886—England Revisited—Speaking in the City Temple—Westminster Abbey—Lecturing through Great Britain—Addressing the Theological Students at City Temple—“Life of Christ”—Sickness—Rest.

For several years before his death earnest efforts were made to induce Mr. Beecher to revisit England. His manly fight against such odds, in 1863, had quite captured the heart of the English people, who always have a tender feeling for a good fighter.

What began as admiration steadily grew and deepened into affection. His sermons, his writings, and even the meagre reports of lectures and speeches, were eagerly read—quite as much so in England as in America.

And when the great cloud of scandal loomed up in 1873-6, none were any more steadfast and loyal in love and confidence than the friends in old England. Among the many testimonials treasured by his family are the resolutions of sympathy and confidence received from clerical associations in England, Scotland, Wales, and even from the distant provinces.

With each succeeding year the importunities that he should spend a summer in England increased, until, in the early spring of 1886, he finally decided to brave the discomforts of an ocean voyage—to him no slight trial—and visit again his English friends. This being a trip of peace and not of war, he determined to take Mrs. Beecher with him. His decision was made the latter part of May. The next Sunday he made the announcement from the pulpit. On the following Sunday he preached his farewell. The church was packed, if possible, fuller than usual, the throng crowding around the pulpit-steps at the close of the service to say farewell.

He engaged passage on the _Etruria_ for Saturday, June 19. The Friday night preceding the regular prayer-meeting night became a regular leave-taking. The services were over by nine o’clock, and from that hour until eleven Mr. and Mrs. Beecher were the centre of a circle of friends that filled the lecture-room and overflowed into the church auditorium, anxious to shake hands and say God-speed.

The _Etruria_ was to start early Saturday morning, so Mr. and Mrs. Beecher went aboard Friday night.

Promptly at six o’clock the hawsers were cast off, and the great steamer slowly drew out from the pier, and, gathering headway, turned her prow eastward and slowly steamed down the bay. Almost simultaneously the excursion steamer _Grand Republic_, with three thousand friends—whose enthusiastic affection had called them, before the sun was up, to pay their farewell tribute—left her wharf in Brooklyn to intercept the _Etruria_ in the Upper Bay. Just off Liberty Island the _Etruria_ slowed down and the _Grand Republic_ came alongside; her passengers, crowding to the nearer guards, gave vent to their feelings in ringing cheers. Mr. and Mrs. Beecher, standing on the upper deck, responded with hat and handkerchief. The band aboard the _Grand Republic_ played “Hail to the Chief,” the whistles of the steamers saluted, and as the _Etruria_, getting under way again, forged rapidly ahead, the choir of Plymouth Church sang the Doxology, the sweetly solemn notes growing fainter as the steamers drew apart.

Going below, they found their staterooms literally embanked in flowers. One enthusiastic friend had left twenty homing pigeons, with instructions to release them at stated intervals during the day. To these short notes were attached, and borne back by the swift, home-seeking wings, being the last words to many friends until the cable announced Mr. Beecher’s safe arrival at Queenstown on the 26th.

Our space forbids an attempt to give more than a very general account of this visit; a full account of the entire trip has already been published, with verbatim reports of the sermons and lectures delivered by Mr. Beecher in England.[18]

Footnote 18:

“A Summer in England with Henry Ward Beecher.” By J. B. Pond. Published by Fords, Howard & Hulbert, of New York City.

It would be impossible in cold words to express the deep and tender feelings with which Mr. Beecher put his foot again on English soil after an absence of nearly a quarter of a century. Memory, swift-flying, ran back through the twenty-three years past, and like some grand panorama the impressive events, both national and personal, moved by his mind’s eyes in silent procession.

Slavery, that blight upon America’s fair name, had been blotted out, and the places that had known it, knew it no more for ever. The struggle for national existence, which had been hanging almost on even balance when, twenty-three years before, he had raised his voice in this same land, and pleaded the nation’s cause, had ended in complete victory and triumphant vindication of those principles for which he had contended. It was with no little pride that he was able to stand again before an English audience and say “that every single substantial sentiment that was set forth in those several popular addresses had now become history.”

Within that same period he had himself passed through the flood of a personal persecution which, for persistent and malignant intensity and unchristian bitterness, exceeded anything recorded in the annals of history. He had seen his name, his life-work, all that he had lived and labored for, threatened with black destruction. Through this he had passed, emerging safely upon the firm shore of the continued love and confidence of his countrymen. Nor could he forget the assurances of fullest trust that came to him from public utterances and private letters of the many friends in England:

“For no other nation except our own have I such strong affinities as for Great Britain. My ancestors came from there. I have been bred on its literature. I have fed on the thought and feeling of its heroic men. I am a child, though born away from home, of the English people; and God forbid that I should be indifferent to those throes which are to bring forth the man-child yet! I look with profound sympathy, with the feeling of a child that venerates a parent in distress, upon that people; and I go there with a heart as warm for them as it was for its own country in the day of its division and trials. Twenty-three years—and what a space between! Twenty-three years! Darkness, thunder, tears, blood, and war—they have gone, and the white mantle of peace is spread over our shores, and the fields laugh and rejoice, and the heavens are propitious, and the earth is bountiful, and men are growing more and more into manliness. What hath God wrought!”

After a short rest in Queenstown, Mr. and Mrs. Beecher went direct to Liverpool; there on the 28th he had an opportunity to hear Mr. Gladstone, meeting him after the address.

The next day they proceeded to London, where, on the following Sunday, Mr. Beecher was to preach for Dr. Parker at the City Temple. On Thursday he attended the regular weekday services held in that church every Thursday, intending to enjoy the unusual pleasure of listening to somebody else’s preaching. But after the sermon Dr. Parker insisted upon his addressing the meeting and closing it in prayer. On calling Mr. Beecher to the pulpit, the doctor spoke a few words in tribute to his friend, concluding with the much-quoted sentence:

“My brethren, I am sorry to break in upon a man’s singularity, so that the palm may, even for a moment, seem to be divided between two; I am, however, constrained to violate the sanctity of a definite personality, and to say that last week there was in England _a_ Grand Old Man: to-day there are two of them!”

On the 4th he preached for Dr. Parker, and on the 5th attended a dinner given to him by the lord mayor of London. On the 11th he preached for Dr. Henry Allen in London, and in the afternoon attended the service at Westminster Abbey, calling afterwards, by previous invitation, upon Dean Bradley, with whom were present a number of the clergymen of the Church of England, who had been invited to meet him. After tea the dean invited him to visit the various historical private rooms of the Abbey.

Many of the rooms were quite as familiar to Mr. Beecher, through his reading, though never seen before, as they were to the clergy of the church itself. These listened with intense interest to his familiar exposition and discussion, of what must have seemed to them to be their own peculiar province of history.

The “Jerusalem Chamber” greatly impressed him. “I am struck with awe. No room has greater interest to me, unless it be the ‘Upper Room.’”

He recalled with deep interest the many notable events that had there occurred intimately connected with religious history—the Westminster Assembly, the Confession of Faith, the two revisions of the Bible, etc. This was to Mr. Beecher a red-letter day, fuller of quiet, tender enjoyment, probably, than any other during his stay.

On the 19th, as he said, his play-day being over (he had preached every Sunday, generally twice, and delivered addresses every week), his work began. At Exeter Hall, London, where he delivered the last of the famous speeches in 1863, he delivered the first of his lectures in 1886. From that time on until the 21st of October he lectured, on an average, four nights a week, preaching every Sunday. A letter home gives some humorous experiences:

“... You would be amused at the way of public meetings in England and Scotland. After the lecture the chairman calls on some one, previously agreed upon, to move _a vote of thanks_, which he does, with a speech in which he pours out such a flood of compliments that before he is half through you lose all sense of personal identity, and wonder what heroic personage he is talking about, and then he moves the distinguished gentleman a vote of thanks. Thereupon the chairman informs the audience that Reverend or Professor So-and-so will second the motion. He takes up the thread of eulogy where the other bit it off, and winds you up with golden cords until you swing high in the heavens. Thereupon the vote is put by the chairman, the audience raise their hands, and then fall into a perfect tempest of clapping; as this subsides, you are expected to rise and, with modest self-depreciation, to explain how much you are elated and how grateful you are.... But it is after the assembly is dismissed that the most serious business of the evening begins. All on the platform shake hands; women climb up and shake you; at every step downward a host of hands—men, women, girls, and boys are reaching; the hallway is crowded with men that pull you, shake you, hustle you; the outward passage is lined with scores and scores, and finally, on the sidewalk, the rush to get your hand is fearful, and the police have to crowd them back to get you into the carriage, and then the windows bristle with more hands, and as the carriage moves on the crowd run along by its side still fiercely pushing each other to get a chance to shake.

“A ludicrous event happened at York. Just away from the hall is a bridge, for which foot-passengers pay a cent and carriages two cents. A woman or girl stands out on the sidewalk, extending her hand for the fee. After I had shaken hands at the hall, along the street, with scores, we came to the bridge, hardly yet shaking off the crowd. A hand was thrust into the window, which I shook; the woman said something indistinctly, which I afterwards learned was, ‘A penny, sir.’ Thinking it some affectionate blessing, I took her hand again, and gave it a more emphatic shake. She put her face in the window and said, ‘A penny, sir’; Pond meanwhile sitting by and laughing heartily.

“Your mother, too, frequently comes in for her share, and you can imagine how comical she looks as, with a modest smile and some surprise, she deals out her ‘thank you’s’ to the host of admirers.”

From July 4, when he preached first for Dr. Parker, until his departure, October 24, Mr. Beecher preached seventeen times, delivered nine public addresses and fifty-eight lectures. This was his summer vacation. From this period of _restful_ recreation, such was his peculiar capacity and enjoyment of mental activity, he derived great benefit; and on his return home, after a few days’ rest from the disturbing influences of the, to him, ever-unrestful ocean, he declared that he never felt stronger, or more vigorous, or better equipped for work in his life. In the course of his stay he visited and lectured in each of the cities, and generally in the same hall where he had “fought with the wild beasts of Ephesus,” as he used to say, in 1863.

Just before his departure he addressed one meeting which, on account of its peculiar significance, we must mention more fully ere we pass on. So much has been said of late in certain quarters respecting Mr. Beecher’s theology, so many criticisms upon his orthodoxy, that his standing among so conservative a body as the English clergy may not be uninteresting. He had already addressed the London Congregational Board, the Congregational School (for the sons of Congregational clergymen), and had preached nearly twenty times, so that there had been a tolerably fair opportunity to learn something of his religious views, when he was invited to address the theological students on the subject of preaching.

The meeting was held in the City Temple, October 15. Six hundred students attended, the remaining space in the body of the house being occupied by ministers, who came from all parts of the country to attend this meeting. It was understood that Mr. Beecher would, after the address, answer such questions as any might want to ask. As the hour fixed was eleven o’clock in the forenoon, all of the theological schools had to rearrange their school-hours for that day, in order to allow the scholars a chance to attend. This was done with great readiness. After an address of nearly an hour, he offered to receive such questions, pertinent to the topic discussed, as might be put by the scholars or any of the clergy present, and occupied the remainder of his time in answering them.

On the 24th Mr. and Mrs. Beecher boarded the _Etruria_ at Queenstown for their return home, reaching New York on the 31st.

In accordance with his expressed wishes no attempts were made to “receive” him, but he was allowed to go quietly home and rest, his people reserving their welcome until the following Sunday.[19] On that day the church was decorated with flowers and evergreen vines, the pulpit being literally a bank of flowers, which ran up along the face of the great organ, even to the ceiling. After the service his people thronged around the pulpit-stairs for one shake of the hand and one word of welcome.

Footnote 19:

The Common Council of Brooklyn voted him a public reception, which he declined. The resolutions were as follows:

“IN COMMON COUNCIL, STATED SESSION, Monday, Nov. 8, 1886.

“The following was presented:

”_Whereas_, This Common Council has heard with pleasure of the return from abroad of that distinguished American, our fellow-citizen, the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher; and

“_Whereas_, In recognition of the eminent services rendered to his country and mankind, both here and on the other side of the Atlantic, of the broad and generous nature of his manhood and of his genius, which has already shed its lustre for half a century; therefore be it

”_Resolved_, That his Honor the Mayor be, and he is hereby requested to offer to the Reverend Henry Ward Beecher, on behalf of the Mayor, Aldermen, and Commonalty of the City of Brooklyn, a public reception at the Academy of Music, at such time as may suit his convenience.

“_Resolved_, That a committee of five members be appointed by the chair, who, together with his Honor the Mayor, of which committee he shall be chairman, shall make the necessary arrangements for such reception, and to insure an adequate expression on that occasion of the honor and esteem in which the citizens of Brooklyn, without distinction of party or creed, hold this their distinguished and beloved fellow-citizen.

“The resolutions were unanimously adopted by the following vote:”

(Signed by the Mayor and Common Council).

Early in the winter he began to seriously think of completing the second volume of the “Life of Christ.” Friends and members of his family had for some years been urging that the book should be completed. A fatality seemed to have hung over that book.

At the time when the Tilton conspiracy first broke out he had written a considerable part of Volume II., and undoubtedly would have soon finished it, when that outbreak, with the church persecutions that followed, interrupted the work, and for a number of years kept his mind so engrossed in other matters as to make writing an impossibility. This was followed by the business embarrassments of his publishers, and then the care of reorganizing the _Christian Union_. At last, peace and quiet having been restored, he began again to arrange for the completion of the work, when a vexatious suit was brought against him by Samuel Wilkeson, who had bought the original contract for the book from the publishers at an assignee’s sale, and, claiming that Mr. Beecher had broken his contract, sued for $60,000. The pendency of this suit stopped all further work on the book. After some delay the cause was tried and the complaint promptly dismissed by the court.

Twice, after the suit, an attempt was made by Mr. Beecher to accomplish the long-deferred completion of the book, but on each occasion something occurred to interrupt and further defer the work.

Finally, in January, 1887, he determined to complete the book, and at the same time to write his Autobiography. No small part of the credit for this final determination is due to Major J. B. Pond, who for many years past had been Mr. Beecher’s lecture manager, and who joined with Mr. Beecher’s family in urging the undertaking of both works. Finally it was decided that he would deliver no more lectures during the year 1887, but devote all of his time outside of his church duties to these literary labors.

In February a contract was made with Charles L. Webster & Co., of New York—our present publishers—to publish both books. The “Life of Christ” was to be completed before July 1, 1887, and the Autobiography before July 1, 1888.

With great zeal Mr. Beecher began at once to re-read, revise, and complete the “Life of Christ,” sometimes resting his mind by changing his work and writing a little on his Autobiography. In this way, by March 1, he had revised all of his former manuscript of the “Life of Christ,” and had completed it down to chapter xxv. Eight chapters of