Part 1 — Mrs. Rebecca Steward BY BENJ. T. TANNER, D.D.
Reading edition
Exactly when or where the writer first made the acquaintance of the subject of this memoir, is forgotten; but he deems himself exceedingly fortunate in the fact itself. To know Rebecca Steward now, may not seem much; but in after years, when the real greatness of her character will have become known, as we doubt not it will, to have known her, will be accounted a most happy incident in one's life.
It is so easy to talk of personal greatness, when the fact is, the truly great are as rare as purest diamond. Not one in a thousand approach it; not one in ten thousand attain to it, or, more properly speaking, possess it—for it is a thing of possession, rather than of acquirement. Be it born in you, you have it. If not, not. For while there may be a tide in the affairs of men, which lead on to "fortune," there is no such tide to a greatness that is real.
Of the few really great souls whom it has been our privilege to know, Mrs. Rebecca Steward was the peer of any. In a very broad sense she was a great woman. As a daughter she was great in dutiful affection; as a sister, in the very broadest sympathy; as a wife, in her incomparable fidelity; and as a mother, in a patience that knew no bounds.
It need not, however, be expected, that any stranger could sound the depth of her nature, in the above mentioned spheres. The qualities we have presumed to mention, were those that floated upon the surface of her life, and, like sweetest water lily, must need attract the attention of the passer by.
It is as a friend and as a member of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, that the writer himself knew her, and in both which spheres she was eminently great. So vivid, indeed, are the remembrances of the friendship that existed between her and ours, in view of her sudden demise, we find most pertinent the words of Montgomery:
"Friend after friend departs, Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end; Were the frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest."
When the sad announcement of her death was made at our own dear fireside, "Dead! Dead, Papa!" were the only words that first passed from lip to lip, while a silence ensued that was painful.
But the real greatness of soul we purpose noticing, was that that evidenced itself in regard to the Church of her choice. A more zealous African Methodist never lived. She had convictions in regard to the work and the economy of the Church organized by Allen, and these shaped her every course in life. Nothing could turn her against the organization itself. Her love towards it was proof against episcopal misjudgment or pastoral insufficiency. She looked from men to principles. Though exceedingly intelligent, she shrank not back from identifying herself with a class, known to be generally ignorant. Well to do in the affairs of this world, she was content to remain as the equal of the poor. And lastly, it might be in place to mention a peculiarity of the locality in which this very attachment to a despised Church was evidenced. The reader of this volumn will already have learned that Gouldtown, N. J., is a peculiar place. Of descent in blood by no means low, and of the strongest Presbyterian proclivities, the Goulds have ever been thought exceedingly conservative—utterly free from that fire which many suppose to be the substance of Methodism. Upon the correctness of this thought it is no intention of ours to pronounce. Sufficient is it to say, that the general bearing of the community, secular and spiritual, is in keeping with their recognized descent and religious bias. Such being the case, the wonder is that they should have maintained their identity with the African Methodist Episcopal Church. Nor is it certain that they would, had it not been for the uncompromising zeal of the subject of this volume, who ever stood like a very breakwater in its defence.
When we call to mind the scores of our people who have left us, on account of our ignorance, our poverty, and our color, the fidelity of Rebecca Steward is but an indication of that greatness of soul with which we credit her, and which is yet to be the admiration of generations unborn.
From our heart we say:
"Requiescat in pace."