CHAPTER 18 WILLIAM BEAUCHAMP

CHAPTER 18 WILLIAM BEAUCHAMP

Among the bright stars which shone in the galaxy of Methodism in the close of the eighteenth century, was the Rev. William Beauchamp. After filling several important stations, such as Pittsburgh, New York, Boston, etc., he removed to the west, and settled on the Little Kanawha, in Western Virginia. Having, in early life, received a good English and classical education, he devoted himself, in his local sphere, to literary pursuits. With but few exceptions, there were not many literary men in the itinerant ranks in those days. Those were called, as a general thing, into the ministry, who belonged, like the early founders of Christianity, to the toiling classes of community. They were taken from the plow, the loom, the bench, and the anvil, and, with the broad seal of heaven’s commission written on their hearts, they went forth to draw from their own experience, and the uncommented word of God, those soul-saving truths which brought the sinner to the dust, and raised the fallen to the blessings of pardon and salvation.

Still, as it was in the days of the apostles and the Reformation, there were some who were distinguished for profound literary attainments, and of this number was William Beauchamp. In the wilds of Virginia, removed from the toil of itinerant life, in which he had worn himself down, he passed his time in the congenial pursuits of a literary life, while his Sabbaths were occupied in preaching the Gospel to the scattered inhabitants in all the region round about. As the fruit of his literary toils, he published "Essays," in Marietta, in the year 1811, "on the Truth of the Christian Religion, or Evidences of Christianity." This work was written in a graceful, flowing style, and would do honor to the head and heart of any man. It gave evidence of genius and piety of a high degree, and was extensively read and deservedly popular. His production gained him a name as a writer in the west, and it was not long till his services were required as an editor of a religious periodical. A correspondence was opened between him and the Rev. Thomas S. Hinde, of Chillicothe, on this subject, an account of which, together with other circumstances, furnished by the latter, we will give in his own words:

"The writer of this memoir, with a number of his religious friends and acquaintances, had long lamented the prevalency of Arian and Pelagian doctrines, with which the Methodist societies at this time, in places, were much infested. The Rev. Samuel Parker, in 1811, 1812, and 1813, had traveled through the interior of Ohio. The distinguished talents of this minister of grace, connected with the sweet temper and disposition of the man, had enabled him to wield the scepter of the Gospel with such signal success that those doctrines, wherever he went, received a fatal blow; to make the victory full and complete, a periodical publication was thought to be absolutely necessary; through which medium the doctrines of the Church might be disseminated. Our Methodist Magazine had long since been discontinued, and no disposition appeared to be manifested to revive it. These circumstances had induced the writer, upon his own responsibility, to issue a prospectus for a periodical religious publication, to be published in Chillicothe, which was designed to batter down those absurd notions, so prevalent at this period.

Brother Beauchamp was solicited to undertake it, and this, connected perhaps with other circumstances, induced him to remove to Chillicothe, Ohio, some time in the year 1815. The year following — 1816 — that excellent periodical work, ’The Western Christian Monitor,’ was published monthly. Publications of this kind had sprung up in various parts of the United States, and the name of this forestalled; so that ’Western’ was added by way of distinction. In this publication brother Beauchamp was aided by the writer of this memoir, but more by compilations and selections than in original matter; and at his request brother Beauchamp wrote a short commentary on the articles of religion of the Methodist Episcopal Church, which was published in numbers. The Monitor was extensively circulated, has done much good, and the bound volumes are now, and always will be, a valuable acquisition to any library. The infant state of the western country, the difficulties attending the distribution of the work, and, worse than all, the very ill state of brother Beauchamp’s health at this time, all tended greatly to discourage him in the prosecution of it; and from these and other circumstances, which it is now needless to mention, at the end of the first year it was wholly discontinued.

"While brother Beauchamp resided in Chillicothe, he became extensively known, and to the Church in that place very useful; his persuasive eloquence and his solid piety gained him many friends both among professors and non-professors, who were so generally impressed with a sense of his real worth, that his name is now, and will long be had in remembrance; and but little doubt is entertained that his labors in this place paved the way for that great and glorious revival of religion, which commenced soon after he left it to remove to Mount Carmel, in Illinois.

"Those lucid intervals during the ministry of the writer’s friends, Mr. Samuel Parker and Mr. William Beauchamp — the one immediately succeeding the other in Chillicothe — in his associations with them around the country in different places, at various meetings, he now retrospects as the happiest period of his life! The tremulous motions of the late calamitous war had subsided, peace reigned, the Gospel spread most astonishingly; and it was his delight to hear, at one time, Parker as the Cicero, and at another Beauchamp as the Demosthenes, of the Church in the west. Pleasing, yet melancholy thought! their race is run, and these two ministers of the Church have left us to mourn for ourselves! One slumbers in the valley of the Mississippi, the other sweetly — for the present reposes on the heights of Peoli, in Indiana!

’Thus the men whom nature’s works instruct, with God himself Hold converse; grow familiar; act upon his plan; And form to his the relish of their souls!’

We have already seen that the subject of our narrative had closed his editorial labors and removed to Mount Carmel, Illinois. Having undertaken the agency of the new settlement, where a society was to be formed on the principle of elective affinity, he commenced the work of surveying the land, laying off the squares and streets, and public places of the town. The lands belonging to the company were exceedingly fertile, and the inducements offered were such that in a short time large numbers sought this El Dorado of the west. All was a wilderness, but active preparations were made for clearing and building. On the holy Sabbath the sound of a trumpet would bring the people together, and the eloquent Beauchamp would charm his listening auditors with the Gospel of Jesus. And they were a highly-favored congregation; for no preacher in the splendid churches of the large cities could discourse more eloquently. On winter evening. he would collect together the youth of the neighborhood and instruct them in the various branches of a solid education. His information was extensive and general, embracing all the useful departments of knowledge, and his services were sought on almost every subject involving the different professions, as well as the mechanic arts. He labored to make himself useful in all the departments of life, and his chief aim seemed to be to advance the happiness of all. Added to all, his services were gratuitous, and none could complain of exorbitant professional fees when his opinion or services were required. He literally preached and toiled for nothing, finding himself.

We once knew a preacher who was sent to a poor circuit in Ohio, where, at the first quarterly meeting, there was not money enough raised from all the classes to pay the traveling expenses of one of the preachers. The prospect was so gloomy, in regard to support, that the presiding elder gave him a dispensation that he might teach a school. He accordingly gathered together about sixty scholars, ranging from A B C up to mineralogy and Latin. From each scholar he received a small sum, to be paid in store goods at an exorbitant price; but as he had no rent to pay, being permitted to occupy an old log cabin that was tenantless, he managed to get along. On Sabbath he would preach to the people of the neighborhood in the school-house. It happened that there came along a Universalist preacher, who was anxious to enlighten the people on the subject of religion, and he requested the privilege of preaching in the school-house which was granted. The burden of his discourse was to expose the priestcraft of the orthodox clergy, and to convince the dear people that they were terribly priest-ridden; that these fat, sleek Methodist preachers cared more for the fleece than they did for the flock. On the next Sabbath, after the school-teacher had preached, an old local preacher, who lived in the neighborhood, and had been a colleague of Bishop Hedding on a New England circuit, was invited to close the exercises. He had heard the Universalist the Sabbath before, and was making a reply, at the Universalist’s invitation, which would have completely demolished him, had not the meeting been broken up by a drunken man, who came in and ordered him out of the pulpit. On rising to give out a hymn, he said he wished to make a remark. "Last Sabbath," said he, "we heard much about priestcraft, and about our being priest-ridden, and all that sort of thing. Well, I don’t think we have much reason to complain of being priest-ridden, for our preacher teaches our children, furnishes wood and candles, builds the fire, sweeps the house, attends our sick, buries our dead, and preaches for nothing — all for nothing — lives in a log-cabin and funds himself."

Thus it was with Beauchamp. He was surveyor, lawyer, physician, school-teacher, mechanic, and preacher; and his services, like the blessings of the Gospel, were without money and without price. His arduous labors preyed heavily upon his delicate constitution, and he was obliged, in 1821, to retire to his farm, about three miles from Carmel. Shortly after this he was called to part with his son — his only son — in the thirteenth year of his age. He was a bright and beautiful boy, tender and affectionate in his disposition, and beloved by all; but Death, who loves a shining mark, claimed him as his own, and he fell a blighted flower, and was gathered to the tomb. After this deep affliction, brother Beauchamp re-entered the itinerant ranks in the Missouri conference, and was stationed in the city of St. Louis. In this station he labored with great success for one year, at the expiration of which time he was appointed presiding elder of the Indiana district. His district was large, embracing eleven circuits, and covering a wide extent of territory, where he labored with zeal untiring in cultivating the vineyard of his Lord and Master.

While on this district he was elected a delegate to the General conference. Such was the estimate put upon his talents by the members of the General conference, that he came within a few votes of being elected to the Episcopacy. His journey to Baltimore and the severe labor connected with the district, which embraced almost the entire state of Indiana, were too great for his constitution to bear, and the old complaint, under which he had suffered, returned. In a very feeble state of health he was taken to his fourth quarterly meeting, which was on the camp ground near Peoli. Here he became worse, but gave advice and attended to some business. From this place he was removed to Mr. Craven’s, and from thence to Mr. Peek’s, at Peoli, where he would be more convenient to medical aid. All efforts that medical skill could make were, however, unavailing, and he continued to sink under the power of disease till, at the expiration of six weeks from the time of the attack, he yielded up his spirit into the hands of God. His death was tranquil, and, with the bright hopes of a faithful Christian, he passed over the swellings of Jordan. His funeral sermon was preached by Bishop Roberts from the text, "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." At the time of his death he was in the fifty-third year of his age. The following description of his person and address, from the pen of his intimate friend, T. S. Hinde, will give the reader a correct idea of the learned and talented subject of our sketch:

"He was a man of common stature, about five feet ten inches in height, light form, dark, or auburn hair, rather of a sallow complexion and thin visage. His features were remarkably regular and round; his head, forehead, and face were well proportioned; there was nothing striking in the appearance either of his nose or mouth, both exhibiting a quite common appearance, nor, at first view, was there any thing remarkable in the cast of his eye; like that of most geniuses it seemed to slumber in thought, till roused to action. But a strict observer, particularly a discerning stranger, would discover an indication there from of deep thought and a reflecting mind; and yet a reserve bordering on austerity. While his eye was watchful and vigilant, a strict and rigid observer of pasting events, it was apparently hid and retired where caution and prudence were deemed necessary. This was its cast to a stranger; but to an acquaintance or a friend he was free and open. His gait was generally slow, but when in health his motions were more rapid. He was very uniform in his conduct, and systematic in his deportment; yet no man was ever a more pleasant and agreeable member of society, adapting his language and conversation to the state and capacities of each, being perfectly at home among the high or the low, the rich or the poor. Though apparently pensive and reserved, yet there was no man more pleasant, communicative, and cheerful. In a company of select friends he was in his element, and his soul then appeared expanded as at a mental feast. His dark hazel eye would rise from its apparent languor, and sparkle with beams of light. His countenance, like the sun breaking forth from a parting cloud, would assume a lovely sprightliness, as if to cheer the spirits of those with whom he delighted to be associated; for he took great pleasure in the society of his friends.

"Mr. Beauchamp in his friendship was steady and uniform, on no occasion yielding his regard for one till he was well satisfied that his confidence was misplaced. He had a little stoop of the shoulders, and when speaking in public his gestures were natural and easy. His voice was very uniform, remarkably soft in social conversation, but in argument energetic. In his preaching, when holding out the promises and the invitations of the Gospel, there was a soft tenderness, a sweetness in his voice, produced frequently by gentle breaks, as if the rising sympathies of his soul obstructed, in some degree, his utterance; when a gentle, thrilling sensation appeared to move a listening multitude, all bending forward to catch every sentence or word as it fell from his lips. This circumstance has frequently been admired. But when he became argumentative, and discussed doctrinal points, or when false doctrines were attacked, the tone of his voice was elevated, his whole system became nerved, and his voice assumed a deep hollow tone, and then soon became elevated to its highest key, and fell like peals of thunder on the ears of a listening assembly. On one occasion the force of his powerful eloquence was fully demonstrated; it was on a subject of controversy. His antagonist, who had sat and listened for some length of time to arguments too powerful for him to answer, began to look as if the voice which he now heard came from another world, through the shadow of a man; he rose, apparently with a view to leave the house, but being so overcome he staggered, caught by the railing, reeled, and fell to his seat, and there sat, overwhelmed and confounded, till the discourse was concluded, when he quietly stepped from the house. His manner of preaching was plain, seldom dividing his subject into different heads, but took the natural division of the text. He would indeed branch out on his subject, but it was so natural and easy, and done in such a way as appeared to unfold new beauties in the Gospel. His sermons were deep, and made a lasting impression upon the mind, because they were both practical and doctrinal. Holiness was his theme; there was seldom a shout raised in the assembly under his preaching, but always strict attention paid to his discourses, and every eye fixed upon the speaker; and, frequently, the people all bathed in tears."