A Biography of Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Scoville Samuel
Читать онлайн книгу.
God, the very glimpses of whom fill us with such joy here. I believe that if I had not somewhere to lay my troubles, if Christ had not invited all those that are ‘weary and heavy laden’ to come unto Him, that I should have long since been discouraged, for I do not think that my instructors do right with me; for although they know that my lessons are double those of any other boy, still they scold and ridicule me during recitation, and, what is worse, the principals will at the close of the week, when the reports are read, read off my reports and all the remarks which are made of me by the under-instructors, and yet will not even say (I can say it with my whole heart) that I exert myself all in my power. And the deficiency is not for want of study. Nevertheless, if it will do me any good, if it will break down my proud spirit, if it will make me depend more upon help from above than earthly help, I will suffer it—yes, rejoice in it.
“I write to you, Harriet, just as I would speak with you; and if it seems to you that I am childish in feeling thus, I can say perhaps I may be, but there are feelings which I have long had, and have wished to relate to some one whom I loved and who could advise me. I have said little or nothing to any of my schoolmates concerning these things. You inquired something concerning card-playing, etc. I don’t know what to think about it. I believe that there are little societies which meet at certain places for the purpose of playing. It is not among the large boys only, but among those of ten or twelve years of age, and most all the boys say ‘they would not play, because it is forbidden by Mr. Colton; but they don’t think there is any harm in it any more than there is in playing chess.’ Mr. Colton knows that the boys play, and all that he has found out he has punished in some way or other; but there are many that he has not found who still continue to play in secret places, and it is not uncommon to hear little boys of eight or nine years old swearing most shockingly.
“The bell is ringing and I must begin my studies now. Write soon.
Your most affectionate brother,
“Henry.
“P.S. Will you send me a few questions that will be good for a debating society? We wish to get the best one we can for a public debate.”
Occasionally in some moment of frolicsome reminiscence he would tell one of his grandchildren of another kind of experience that belonged to these days. Bashful as he was and retiring by nature, he was not by any means proof against the tender passion—in fact, such a nature as his was just the one that its arrows would reach the earliest, and into which they would strike deepest.
She was the sister of a schoolmate, and her name was Nancy. All this vacation he had developed great fondness for this school friend; was often at his house. “And there,” he said, “I would lean against the window and watch Nancy sew, she had such little pink fingers—how I wanted to take hold of them! And then once in a while she would just glance up, and I would be covered with hot and awkward confusion.”
On one evening in particular he had spruced up his dress and screwed up his courage preparatory to making an evening call, when, as the family sat around the fire, “Lyman,” said the mother, without looking up from her lace knitting, “Mount Pleasant is an excellent school. Henry is improving very much. He has grown tidy, blacks his boots and brushes his hair, and begins to pay a proper attention to his clothes.”
“At this point,” says Mr. Beecher, in telling the story, “Charles gave an explosive giggle and punched me slyly. Father lowered his newspaper; glancing over his glasses in our direction, seeing me covered with confusion and Charles full of suppressed laughter, said dryly:
“ ‘Oh! it is the school, is it? Humph! I guess the cause is nearer home.’ ”
“How did it turn out, grandpa?”
“Oh! she was older than I, and married another fellow soon after. A short time ago, after a lecture in Boston, a little old lady introduced herself to me as ‘Nancy———.’ But the charm was gone. I shook the once tempting hand and felt neither awkward nor hot.”
To some of his letters of this school-boy era he signs the initials H. C. B. instead of H. W. B. The adoption of this letter C came about from that enthusiasm of friendship which was always one of his marked characteristics. The following is the history of the matter:
On the back of a sheet of letter-paper which we have before us, folded as if for filing, is written:
“Henry W. Beecher
&
Constantine F. Newell,
Mount Pleasant Collegiate Institution,
Amherst, Mass.”
Opening it we read:
“We do, in the presence of God and his holy angels, by our signatures, mutually pledge ourselves to be and perform all things subjoined:
“(1) We do pledge ourselves to be real, lawful, and everlasting brothers; and that we will perform toward each other all the duties of brothers, whether present or absent, in health or in sickness, in wealth or in poverty, in prosperity or adversity; and that we will love and watch over one another, seeking by all means in our power to aid and make each other happy.
”H. C. Beecher,
“Constantine F. Newell.
“(2) If parted hereafter we pledge ourselves to write to one another once in two months, provided we are both in the United States. But if either shall remove or reside in any foreign land, we will write four times each year, that is, once in three months, unless we shall alter the arrangement.
”H. C. Beecher,
“Constantine F. Newell.
“(3) If we hear one another’s character evil spoken of, we pledge ourselves fearlessly to defend it and shield it from reproach.
”H. C. Beecher,
“Constantine F. Newell.
“(4) We will pass over the little faults which we may observe in each other, nor will we reproach one another of any little misstep.
[Signatures omitted here.]
“(5) Our sorrows and joys shall be common, so that we may rejoice in mutual prosperity and assist one another in adversity.
”H. C. Beecher,
“Constantine F. Newell.
“And now we consider ourselves as brothers, and we are bound together by ties and obligations as strong as can be placed upon us. But we rather rejoice in the relationship, as now it has converted our former friendship into brotherly love. As formerly we were connected by nothing save voluntary friendship, which could be broken off, so now we are connected by a love which cannot be broken; and we have pledged ourselves before God and his angels to be as written above. But we do not sorrow on this account—far from it, we greatly rejoice—for we have not done this thoughtlessly, but being convinced by three years’ friendship that we mutually love one another; and from this time are now assumed new duties and obligations. And to all the foregoing we cheerfully and voluntarily subscribe our names. And now may God bless us in this our covenant and in all our future ways, and receive us both at last in heaven.
“H. C. Beecher,
“Constantine F. Newell.
“Amherst, April, 1832.”
The explanation of this singular paper is found in a very romantic history and friendship.
Constantine Fontellachi was a Greek from the island of Scio, in the Grecian Archipelago. His parents were killed by the Turks in that terrible massacre of the Sciotese which horrified the world in 1822. Constantine, who was six or eight years old, escaped and hid among the rocks upon the coast until he was discovered and taken off by a coasting vessel. He made his way to the New World and was adopted by Mrs. Newell, of Amherst, as her own, and sent to the Mount Pleasant school. His romantic but sorrowful history, his great beauty and grace of person, captivated Henry Ward; as he said: “He was the most