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To add to the tumult, from time to time, an Englishman would climb on his chair and shout, "I am ashamed of Liverpool and my country," and the confusion would break out afresh. It took one hour to wear the voices out. When Beecher told the reporters that he would speak slowly so they could hear, and thus he could reach all England, the audience grew quieter.
Beecher was one of the few preachers who was both most effective in the pulpit and, if possible, more eloquent upon the platform. When there was a moral issue involved he would address political audiences. In one campaign his speeches were more widely printed than those of any of the senators, members of the House, or governors who spoke.
He got in, facing them a little ruefully with his damaged countenance, and subtly aware that this accession of friendliness was not a gush of airy impulse. "You know Miss Beecher then?" said Miss Falconer with brisk directness. "Slightly," he said aloud. To himself he added, "So far." "Ah in America?" "No, in Cairo." Miss Falconer looked disappointed. "But perhaps you know her family?"
He was a fascinating companion, with the rollicking freedom of a schoolboy. I never shall forget an immense meeting in behalf of a liquor prohibition movement held in Triplet Hall. Mr. Beecher was at his best. In the midst of his speech, he suddenly discharged a bombshell against negro slavery which dynamited the audience and provoked a thunder of applause.
The Indians rallied in force and closed in about Fort Beecher, driving the survivors to shelter within its guarded lines, and then, when Plodder needed every man of his force to keep the foe at respectful distance, so that his bullets could not reach the quarters occupied by the women and children at the post, there reached him by night a runner from the stage station far over to the southeast, on a dry fork of the Powder, saying that the north and south bound stages had taken refuge there, with only ten men, all told, to stand off some fifty warriors, and therefore imploring assistance.
Beecher has been censured for irreverence, when what was called his irreverence has seemed to us but the tenderness engendered of close connection. Cannot one live so near to God as that His greatness shall he merged in His goodness? What would be irreverence, if it came from the head, may be but love springing up warm from the heart. One of the strongest characteristics of Mr.
H. Beecher Stowe, to whom he wrote on June 18th, 1860, from Geneva: "It takes a great deal, when I am at Geneva, to make me wish myself anywhere else, and, of all places else, in London; nevertheless, I very heartily wish at this moment that I were looking out on the Norwood Hills, and were expecting you and the children to breakfast to-morrow.
Besides my old Ohio-time friend Moncure D. Conway, who paid us a visit, and in his immediate relations with literary Boston seemed to bring the mountain to Mahomet, I saw no one else more literary than Henry Ward Beecher.
Still it was very rare that there was any hard feeling, and certainly no expression of it was manifest when pewholders to whom a sermon by Mr. Beecher was the great treat of the week, but who for one reason or another were delayed, found their seats occupied, and were compelled themselves either to stand or withdraw entirely. The hospitality, too, was thoroughly democratic.
I'd give ten thousand dollars towards paying expenses; that is, if they could do what they was a mind to with him." "I reckon a little more'n ten thousand dollars'd do it," grinned Georgian First. "They'd cut him up into little bits," pursued the New-Yorker. "They'd worry him first like a cat does a mouse," added the Carolinian. "I'd rather serve Beecher or what's his name?
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