CHAPTER 34 RUSSEL BIGELOW
CHAPTER 34 RUSSEL BIGELOW
Among the number of the gifted, devoted, and zealous preachers of his day stands the name of Russel Bigelow. He was received on trial in the Ohio conference in the year 1815, and appointed to the Hinkston circuit, in the bounds of the Kentucky district, the Rev. Samuel Parker being his presiding elder. He was at this time in the twenty-third year of his age. The history of his early life, and the circumstances connected with his conversion, are not known; and however interesting their detail might, and, doubtless, would be, we are sorry that our readers can not be gratified. So marked a character as was Bigelow’s during his ministerial career, must have been distinguished in early life by some striking peculiarities. In the year 1810 he was removed from Kentucky to Ohio, and stationed on the Miami circuit as the colleague of the Rev. Alexander Cummins. His early association with the master spirits of the Church doubtless had a happy effect upon his character, in developing those traits which distinguished him, in the maturer periods of his ministry. The succeeding year he was sent to the adjoining circuit of Lawrenceburg, where he continued till the next conference, at which he was sent to Oxford, where he remained two years. In 1820 he traveled Mad River circuit, and the following two years Columbus. At the expiration of this period he went to Whitewater, and from thence he came to Cincinnati, which place he occupied with the Rev. Truman Bishop. Here he remained one year, and from hence went to Union circuit. The next two years he traveled the Scioto district, and at the expiration of this time was sent to the mission at Sandusky. Here he engaged in the work of preaching to the Wyandott Indians, superintending the farm and mission school. The tedious process, however, of preaching through an interpreter was wholly unsuited to his nature, and at the expiration of the year he retired from the work to seek a more congenial sphere. The four succeeding years he was sent to preside over the Portland district, and in the year 1833 he was stationed in Columbus, where he remained two years, giving full proof of his ministry, beloved and respected by all both in and out of the Church. Indeed, such was the esteem in which he was held that, during the next year, in which it was necessary for him, on account of his feeble health, to take a superannuated relation, he was appointed by the Board of Directors of the Ohio Penitentiary, as chaplain to that institution.
He entered upon his labors in the Penitentiary with a zeal and devotion characteristic of his truly benevolent heart. He visited every cell, and conversed with every prisoner, and his prayers and exhortations were not lost upon the hearts of the convicts. Many an obdurate and sin-steeled conscience was touched by the eloquence of his tears and entreaties to win them from the ways of sin. The fruits of his labors in this field eternity can alone disclose. He might have avoided much labor, and incurred no charge on the ground of non-attendance of duty; but the worth of souls uncared for, as is usually the case with the inmates of a prison, pressed heavily upon his heart, and awakened all his sympathies. Under these labors he broke down, and before the year had expired it was necessary for him to resign his post.
About this time he visited our house on his way to Indiana. He had rigged up a jumper, there being snow on the ground, and in that backwoods conveyance he came into Ridgeville, the place where we resided. He seemed to be laboring under a melancholy, which had, for some time, been settling upon him, and his friends were somewhat apprehensive of the consequences. He was evidently passing through one of those severe trials with which God purifies his saints and fits them for heaven. There was a cause, however, for his despondency. He had given all to the Church — his time, his talents, and all — and while he was able to preach all was well. Bright faces and open hands greeted him in all his walks; but, alas when disease preyed upon his system, and he was no longer able to preach the Gospel, faces were hidden and hands were turned away. A man must have had more faith than mortal can exercise under such circumstances, not to feel depressed. Before his enfeebled mind rose his helpless family — a wife and seven children — and they, in all probability, soon to be left without any to provide for their wants. His sad experience too thoroughly convinced him how cheerless would be their condition when he was gone; and to the Rev. J. C. Brooke he opened freely his mind upon the subject. Never did we feel more intensely for a poor itinerant than we then felt for Bigelow.
After remaining with us a week on his return, he made ready for his departure. The snow had melted, and there being no further need for a jumper, Mr. Brooke furnished him a saddle and fitted him up. He was loath to leave, and lingered about; and when with tears we bade him farewell, never to see him again in this world, Mr. Brooke gave him all the money he had. After riding off some distance on the road he returned, and taking his horse collar and hames, he threw them into the yard, all he had to leave as a memento, the remains of which we have on the farm to this day. His work was done, and that devoted, self-sacrificing missionary went home to die. For more than twenty years he had toiled in the hard field of itinerant life, filling, with a zeal and fidelity characteristic of a faithful soldier of the cross, every post assigned him by the authorities of the Church. For a period of nineteen years it was said of him, that he had not missed a single appointment.
Frequent exposures in traveling the hard circuits and districts of those days made heavy drafts upon his constitution, and ere he had scarcely reached "manhood’s middle day" he was called from the field of his toil and conflict on earth to the scenes of his reward and triumph in heaven. In the midst of his sufferings he realized a perfect resignation to the will of God, and in the language of faith and joy he was enabled to shout the praises of his heavenly King. While a brother in the ministry was pouring out his heart in prayer to God in his behalf, the responses of the dying man illustrated the truth that The chamber where he met his fate, Was privileged beyond the common walks Of life — quite on the verge of heaven." Our sketch would be entirely too meager and unsatisfactory did it end here; and such, unfortunately, would have been the case, to a very great extent, had it not been for the very graphic and faithful pen of Dr. Thomson, who has given a most truthful and beautiful analysis of the sainted Bigelow’s character. To this description we invite the attention of our readers.
"Russel Bigelow was an extraordinary man, and his merits were never fully appreciated even by the Church. Of his early history the writer has no knowledge, further than that he emigrated, at an early age, from New England to the west, and that, from his youth, being accustomed to read the Bible upon his knees, he soon became remarkable for piety. It is probable that he was favored with no more than a good common school education, before he entered the itinerancy, of which he was so conspicuous an ornament. I was a student in the beautiful village of W. when I first heard of him. Opposite our office was a coppersmith, a man of remarkable mind and character. He had been reared without any education, and had been unfortunate in his business relations; but having spent his leisure in reading and in conversation with persons of better attainments, he had acquired a stock of valuable knowledge, which his grappling intellect well knew how to use. He was an active politician. In times of excitement he gathered the multitude around him, and often arrested our studies by his stentorian voice, which could drown the clatter of his hammers and the confusion even of Bedlam. I think I may safely say that for many years he wielded the political destinies of his county. Never in office himself, his will determined who should be. This man had imbibed skeptical sentiments, which he often inculcated with terrific energy. He rarely went to the house of God, and when he did, I supposed he might as well stay at home; for I should have thought it as easy to melt a rock with a fagot, as to subdue his heart by the ’foolishness of preaching.’
"One Saturday evening he came into our office with a peculiar expression of countenance — the tear started from his eye as he said, ’I have been to meeting, and by the grace of God I will continue on as long as it lasts. Come, young gentlemen, come and hear Bigelow. He will show you the world, and the human heart, and the Bible, and the cross in such a light as you have never before seen them.’ I trembled beneath the announcement; for if the preacher had prostrated a fainting multitude at his feet, he would not have given me as convincing a proof of his power as that which stood before me. This was the first account I ever heard of Bigelow; and from that time I avoided the Methodist church, till he left the village.
"One morning of the ensuing summer, my preceptor came in and said, ’T., come, mount old black, and go with me to campmeeting.’
"T. ’Excuse me, sir, I have no desire to go to such a nursery of vice and enthusiasm.’
"P. ’O, you are too bigoted. Presbyterian, as I am, I confess I like campmeetings. There man can forget the business of life, and listen to the truth without distraction, and then ponder on it, and pray over it, and feel it. Good impressions are made every Sabbath; but they rarely bring forth fruit; they are worn away by the business of the week. At campmeeting the heart can first be heated, and then, while yet warm, placed upon the anvil and beaten into shape.’
"T. ’I was once at campmeeting two hours, and that satisfied me. The heart may be warmed there, but I doubt the purity of the fire which heats it.’
"P. ’A truce to argument, I have a patient there I want you to see. You have no objection to go professionally.’
"T. ’No, sir, I will go any where to see a patient.’
"It was a lovely morning. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky, and the fresh breezes fanned us, as we rode by well-cultivated and fertile fields, waving with their rich and ripening harvests. After a short journey we came to the encampment. A broad beam of daylight showed things to advantage; and I could but think, as I gazed from an elevated point, and drank in the sweet songs that reverberated through the grove, of some of the scenes of Scripture. My rebel heart was constrained to cry within me, ’How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, O Israel. As the valleys are they spread forth: as gardens by the river’s side.’
"Having visited the sick whom we had come to see, we were invited, with, great kindness and cordiality, to partake of refreshments. The warmth of our reception excited my gratitude, and instead of starting home, when the horn blew for preaching, I sat down respectfully to hear the sermon. Bigelow was to preach. I dreaded the occasion; but had always been taught to venerate religion, and had never seen the day when I could ridicule or disturb even the Mohammedan at his prayers, or the pagan at his idol. In the pulpit were many clergymen, two of whom I knew and esteemed — the one a tall, majestic man, whose vigorous frame symbolized his noble mind and generous heart; the other a small, delicate, graceful gentleman, whom nature had fitted for a universal favorite. Had I been consulted, one of them should have occupied the pulpit at that time. All was stillness and attention when the presiding elder stepped forward. Never was I so disappointed in a man’s personal appearance. He was below the middle stature, and clad in coarse, ill-made garments. His uncombed hair hung loosely over his forehead. His attitudes and motions were exceedingly ungraceful, and every feature of his countenance was unprepossessing. Upon minutely examining him, however, I became better pleased. The long hair that came down to his cheeks, concealed a broad and prominent forehead; the keen eye that peered from beneath his heavy and overjutting eyebrows beamed with deep and penetrating intelligence; the prominent cheek-bones, projecting chin, and large nose, indicated any thing but intellectual feebleness; while the wide mouth, depressed at its corners, the slightly-expanded nostril, and the tout ensemble, indicated sorrow and love, and well assorted with the message, ’Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ As he commenced I determined to watch for his faults; but before he had closed his introduction I concluded that his words were pure and well chosen, his accents never misplaced, his sentences grammatical, artistically constructed, and well arranged, both for harmony and effect; and when he entered fully upon his subject, I was disposed to resign myself to the argument, and leave the speaker in the hands of more skillful critics.
Having stated and illustrated his position clearly, he laid broad the foundation of his argument, and piled stone upon stone, hewed and polished, till he stood upon a majestic pyramid, with heaven’s own light around him, pointing the astonished multitude to a brighter home beyond the sun, and bidding defiance to the enemy to move one fragment of the rock on which his feet were planted. His argument being completed, his peroration commenced. This was grand beyond description. The whole universe seemed animated by its Creator to aid him in persuading the sinners to return to God, and the angels commissioned to open heaven and come down to strengthen him. Now he opens the mouth of the pit, and takes us through its gloomy avenues, while the bolts retreat, and the doors of damnation burst open, and the wail of the lost enters our ears; and now he opens heaven, transports us to the flowery plains, stands us amid the armies of the blest, to sweep, with celestial fingers, angelic harps, and join the eternal chorus, ’Worthy, worthy is the Lamb!’ As he closed his discourse, every energy of his body and mind were stretched to the utmost point of tension. His soul appeared to be too great for its tenement, and every moment ready to burst through and soar away as an eagle toward heaven. His lungs labored, his arms rose the perspiration, mingled with tears, flowed in a steady stream upon the floor, and every thing about him seemed to say, ’O that my head were waters!’ But the audience thought not of the struggling body, nor even of the giant mind within; for they were paralyzed beneath the avalanche of thought that descended upon them.
"I lost the man, but the subject was all in all. I returned from the ground dissatisfied with myself, saying within me, ’O, that I were a Christian!:
It was two or three years after this that, being introduced into the Church, I became acquainted personally with this excellent man, of whose character I propose to record what I recollect.
"1. He was modest. To receive the plaudits of thousands, without forming a high estimate of one’s talents, requires much grace. Hence, the orator is generally proud. Bigelow preached to audiences as large, and with results as astonishing, as we have ever witnessed. Though he could not have been insensible of his power, yet he appeared to set no high estimate on his superior qualifications or endowments; for he rarely alluded to them, or suffered any one else, unrebuked, to do so in his presence.
He was a perfect gentleman in his deportment — to his inferiors kind — to his equals courteous — to those who had the rule over him, submissive — toward those of elevated station independent, yet duly respectful — toward the civil magistrate conscientiously regardful, rendering unto ’Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.’ Though he scorned not the palace, he courted not its inmates; and while the circles of fashion delighted to honor him, he ’condescended to men of low estate.’ Capable of standing, like the cedar on Lebanon, he loved the place "Where purple violets lurk With all the lovely children of the shade.’
"Though modest, he was not bashful. Without any thing assuming in look, word, or action, he was a fine illustration of the truth, ’The righteous is bold as a lion.’ he was as far from diffidence as presumption. Never pushing himself beyond his post, he was always ready to maintain it. His eye knew not to quail, nor his knee to tremble before mortal man. He asked no one to stand in his place in the hour of trial or of duty. Yet after the sharpest conflict, and most glorious mental conquest, he was ready to wash the feet of the humblest saint. The lark is his emblem, which, after pouring its heavenly strains upon the upper skies, descends to build its nest upon the ground. It may be matter of surprise to some that such a man should be so modest; but the explanation is at hand. He knew that he had nothing but what he had received. When his wondering audience seemed to say, ’He can do all things,’ his spirit and manner breathed the addition, ’through Christ strengthening me.’ Moreover, he seemed to have a method of hiding and diminishing his own excellences, while he sought out and magnified those of every one else. he was, however, far from every thing mean or low; indeed, there was an exquisite delicacy about all his thoughts, illustrations, and manners.
"2. He was humble. If any man could boast of graces he could. In him they all abounded — faith that works by love, and purifies the heart — hope, the anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast — love that burns with an even, intense flame, consuming all that ’opposeth or exalteth itself against the knowledge of God’ — zeal, ardent and uncompromising, bringing body and soul to the altar; and yet he was ’of boasting more than of a tomb afraid.’
He worked out his salvation ’with fear and trembling;’ he was meek and lonely in heart; he inserted the petition ’forgive us our trespasses’ in all his prayers, and felt that his best actions needed the ’sprinkling of the blood of Jesus.’
"3. He was affable. His natural sweetness of temper, refined by the spirit of Christianity, gave him an unaffected politeness, which rendered every person perfectly easy in his presence. The young approached him as a father, the aged as a friend, and both felt encouraged, by his engaging air, to express their wants or inquiries without reserve. There are some whose affability invites familiarity, and leads to contempt; but he, mingled with his urbanity a dignity which imposed respect, and a solemnity which banished levity. In his public addresses he would go before you as a pillar of fire, but in private he would suffer you to lead wherever you desired, taking care to follow you like the smitten rock which followed Israel, to pour blessings at your feet. His mind, like that of Christ, seemed filled with beautiful analogies, by which he could rise from the material to the spiritual, and make an easy path to heaven from any point of earth he could charm even the worldly heart that would hold communion with him; for although he would direct it outward from its own defiled chambers, and upward to God, he would make the ascent so smooth and green, and would throw so much light and loveliness on all the paths of piety, that his retiring footsteps would call forth the assurance, ’At a more convenient season I will send for thee.’
"When he spent the night with a religious family, he was in the habit of conversing in a religious manner, without seeming to aim at it; and when his host lighted him to his chamber, he would take him by the hand when they were alone, and, alluding to the kindness bestowed upon him, would make his own gratitude an apology for inquiring into the highest welfare of his hospitable friend. He would speak of God’s goodness, man’s accountability, a parent’s influence, a Savior’s love, an approaching judgment; and when, with streaming eyes, he bowed down to plead with God for his friend, it would seem as though the heart of stone must melt. Wherever he went he was hailed as a messenger of God; and whenever he departed it seemed as though an angel was taking leave. His name still sheds fragrance from a thousand family altars. It is impossible to describe the estimate in which he is held by those with whom he was frequently called to hold communion in the discharge of official duty. He was the man whom his brethren in the ministry delighted to honor. At the conference, at the quarterly meeting, you might see them gathering around him to hear his counsel, receive his blessing, and present some token of their love. In such seasons he had no reason to envy the crowned or the mitered head. No incense offered to the conqueror of a hundred of earth’s battle-fields like the incense offered to him at such periods; but he was not vain, and when he was the object of kind attention his heart was overwhelmed, and he wept as a father in the midst of his children. The stranger who witnessed such a scene could not refrain from saying in his heart, ’Behold how they love him!’
"4. He was cheerful, notwithstanding his habitual seriousness. Bearing in his bosom a load which might make an apostle cry out, ’I have great heaviness and a continual sorrow in my heart,’ he nevertheless, stood aloof from melancholy or despair. The shades of his brow were generally like the flying clouds of a serene day, which, chasing each other, ’now hide and now reveal the sun.’ Meridian faith beamed from his countenance even in the storm, and threw the bow of promise over the darkest cloud. He illustrated the paradox, ’As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing’.
"5. He was frank. Perhaps this is the first characteristic which a stranger would notice on being introduced to him. He was far from everything like reserve, hypocrisy, or concealment. His thoughts, words, and feelings were at ease, his natural language under no restraint, and his lips ready to utter the uppermost thoughts of his soul. Indeed, his countenance seemed so transparent, that you could see his heart as plainly as his features. At the same time, he had none of the impertinence of freedom, nor the indiscretion of openness. He was more ready to confess his own faults, than correct another’s. If he opened his heart it was not from conceit, but from natural warmth ; and when he poured forth its treasures, it was not that they might flow any where, but only over those fields which thirsted for refreshment. When he saw a friend in danger, he did not hesitate to proffer counsel; but this he did in such a manner as to inspire respect, if not to secure salvation. There was no superciliousness or display of superiority — no aggravation of the offender’s faults — no tone of authority in his reproof; but he came upon you with such ’meekness of wisdom,’ such a kind estimate of your virtues, such a voice of tenderness, that you could not but bless him, even though he probed you to the quick.
"There is a frank man who is not to be depended on. He will smile upon you, and promise you a favor, and the next moment, if he meet with your enemy, can promise him the same; not that he would be false; he is only changeable. But his inconsistencies often involve his honor, and place his ingenuity upon the rack to rescue it. Bigelow’s promises were to be relied on. Of him we might say, ’His words are bonds — his oaths are oracles His loves sincere.’
"There is a character that can not be understood — a perfect mystery. The more you explore it, the more you are confounded. It is a Proteus; you know not whether to love or hate — whether to regard it as foe or friend, saint or devil. One moment you are allured by an excellence, and the next repelled by a blemish. But the greatest of all difficulties is, that it communicates with the world entirely by artificial language. You can not trace it; it seems to adopt its motives by stealth, and drag them to its heart as Cacus did the cattle of Hercules to his cave — by the tail instead of the horns; so that if you follow their tracks, you are sure to go the wrong way. It can hardly ’take tea without a stratagem;’ and, like the ancient warrior, if it thought its coat could tell what it was about, it would burn it. Its whole business seemed to be to elude the world, which it draws, like a pack of gray-hounds, to its scent. Now, the very reverse of all this was Russel Bigelow.
"I shall never forget the childlike simplicity with which, on one occasion, in conversation about the comparative advantages of extempore and written sermons, he having dropped the remark, ’My happiest efforts,’ added, ’O, pardon me for having used that term in speaking of any effort of mine.’ A stranger having taken him aside, and presented him with a suit of clothes, which he much needed, he seized his hand, and looking up to him with tearful eyes, said, ’O, doctor, I will pray for you as long as I live!’ If about to make a speech, he would tell you so, and perhaps explain to you the ground he was about to take, and the arguments he would employ; so that, if you chose, you might digest a reply before his effort was heard. Had he been in Joseph’s place, he, too, would have told his dreams, and looked for his brethren in Shechem or in Dotham.
"6. He was benevolent and beneficent. Like his Master, he was touched with a feeling of human infirmities. He had learned how to weep with them that weep, and rejoice with them that rejoice. One needed but to see him in, the asylum, or the prison, or standing before an object of distress by the road-side, or uttering the sympathies of his broad heart at the pillow of the sick to be convinced, without argument, that there is such a thing as disinterested benevolence.
"His faith did not overlook the present world, in its concerns for the future; and while he struggled, and wept, and prayed for the sinful soul, he did not forget the suffering body. Nor was he content with knowing the sorrows of those who came in his way: ’The cause that he knew not he searched out.’ He was emphatically the good Samaritan. His expansive benevolence embraced the whole human family; not that he cherished the wild speculation that all mankind should be regarded alike; but warming his charity at the fireside of his sweet home, he bade it expand till it overleaped all national boundaries, and natural and artificial distinctions. He was not of those who content themselves with elevated views and warm sympathies, and who say to the shivering brother, ’Be thou warmed and clothed.’ His beneficence knew no limits but his ability. As he received presents wherever he went — and his brethren, knowing his worth, would not suffer him to be deficient in his allowance — if he had husbanded what he received, he would have accumulated money. But his resources were expended as fast as they were received, and he died poor. Indeed, to those who walk by sight, he did not seem to have a proper regard for the wants of his family; and when he approached the borders of the grave, the sight of his helpless children, whom he was soon to leave fatherless, sometimes induced self-reproaches, connected with a gloomy despondency in view of the future, which, however, were instantly banished by the recollection of some sweet promise of Scripture, and a view of God’s tender relation to the fatherless and the widow.
"7. He was liberal in his views. Never compromising or disguising the truth, warmly attached to his own Discipline, and firmly persuaded of his own doctrines, he was, nevertheless, as far from narrowness and bigotry as the east is from the west. He delighted to hail every Church that bore the banner of the Savior, under whatever uniform or name; and to the image of Christ his heart and hand turned as the needle to the pole. He looked with joy upon the prosperity of sister Churches; and notwithstanding he felt a deep interest in the welfare of his own department of Zion, he never could be accused of proselyting: his great aim was to bring honor to Christ, souls to heaven, and glory to God. But although he felt so little concern to attract converts into his Church, the people would follow him in flocks, as sheep follow a shepherd.
"8. His character was harmonious. We have heard of many a good man whose home was no paradise. Bigelow was to his family what he was to his congregation. Indeed, his spirit is said to have been, if possible, even more sweet and fragrant at the fireside than in the pulpit; and his prayers at the family altar were as fervent as those which were audible to the multitude. In short, his words and his works, his inner and his outer life, his public and his private character, were alike lovely and accordant.
"’Did you know Bigelow?’ said the writer to Chief Justice L. ’Yes,’ he replied; ’and it is one of the greatest regrets of my life that I did not know him better. Had I never known him, I should have loved him for the effects of his apostolic labors and holy example. We were a rude people when he was among us, and we never appreciated his worth.’ That he had his faults and imperfections, we do not deny; but they were almost lost amid his excellences. Let the poet look out upon the plain or the mountain, the gorgeous sunset or the thundering cataract; but let me look upon a good man. The artist may mold matter into forms of enrapturing beauty, and make us feel their elevating and purifying influences; but what is the marble Moses of Michael Angelo, or the cold statue of his living Christ, compared with an embodiment of the Hebrew law and the spirit of Jesus in the sculpture of a holy life? Goethe said that he was not half himself who had never seen the Juno in the Rondanini palace at Rome. Well, then, may we say, that he knows not to what race he belongs who has never gazed upon such a man as Bigelow. If an angel were to move among us in celestial sheen, with what sublimity would he inspire us! But how much more is it to see moral majesty and beauty beaming from human clay!"