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Updated: May 21, 2025
Beecher's overzealous followers unwisely gave the impression that the Plymouth preacher resented sharing with another the pulpit fame which he alone had so long unquestioningly held. Nothing, of course, was further from Mr. Beecher's mind. As a matter of fact, the two men were exceedingly good friends. Mr.
For instance, he accepts Beecher's confidence, which may have been unavoidable, and betrays it by telling various people, from time to time, of the several incidents of Beecher's trouble, which is something of which a weak or loose-tongued person vain of the task in which he was engaged, as it seemed to him, i.e., of keeping the peace between two great men might readily be guilty.
Wherever he might be, whatever life might have in store for him, he knew that his heart would go back to her restlessly, and remain unsatisfied without her. He understood that he loved her. Canon Beecher's voice came to him as if from an immense distance: 'O God, make speed to save us. Then he heard very clearly Marion's sweet voice replying: 'O Lord, make haste to help us.
I only say that she was not modest, and that the way she stood on the Patten's dock and pozed for Mr. Beecher's benafit was unecessary and well, not respectable. She was nothing to me, nor I to her. But I watched her closely. I confess that I was interested in Mr. Beecher. Why not? He was a Public Character, and entitled to respect. Nay, even to love.
There was in circulation during Henry Ward Beecher's lifetime a story, which is still revived every now and then, that on a hot Sunday morning in early summer, he began his sermon in Plymouth Church by declaring that "It is too damned hot to preach."
There have been more famous musicians engaged for Plymouth Church Choir during the past fifty years than in any other church in this country, if not in the world. Among the names I may mention are Zundel, Burnet, Stebbins, Wheeler, Thursby, Toedt, Sterling, Lasar, Damrosch, Warrenwrath, Camp, and many others. Of them all probably John Zundel came the nearest to Mr. Beecher's ideal.
The sentiments are his and he uttered them, and he should stand by them. He threatens to bring you into court, I see from to-day's paper. Wait until he does so." Bok, chancing to meet Doctor Talmage, told him Mr. Beecher's advice, and he endorsed it. "Remember, boy," said Doctor Talmage, "silence is never so golden as when you are under fire.
Beecher's passionate eloquence, but by-and-by this will tell as a working-force. The non-voter's conscience will reach the Privy Council, and the hand of the ignorant, but Christianized laborer trace its own purpose in the letters of the royal signature. We are living in a period, not of events only, but of epochs.
Beecher's preaching, falling on such a mass of disorder, should not have had a more purifying and organizing effect, is due, we think, to the absence from it of anything in the smallest degree disciplinary, either in the shape of systematic theology, with its tests and standards, or of a social code, with its pains and penalties.
His first striking performance was that wonderful address at the twenty-fifth anniversary of Henry Ward Beecher's pastorate in Plymouth Church, at the close of which Mr. Beecher gave him a grateful kiss before the applauding audience. Not long after that Dr. Storrs delivered those two wonderful lectures on the "Muscovite and the Ottoman."
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