As a letter-writer, Henry Ward Beecher was a constant wonder.He never wrote a commonplace letter.There was always himself in it--in whatever mood it found him.
It was not customary for him to see all his mail.As a rule Mrs.Beecher opened it, and attended to most of it.One evening Edward was helping Mrs.Beecher handle an unusually large number of letters.He was reading one when Mr.Beecher happened to come in and read what otherwise he would not have seen:
"Reverend Henry Ward Beecher.
"Dear Sir:
"I journeyed over from my New York hotel yesterday morning to hear you preach, expecting, of course, to hear an exposition of the gospel of Jesus Christ.Instead, I heard a political harangue, with no reason or cohesion in it.You made an ass of yourself.
"Very truly yours, __ __.
"That's to the point," commented Mr.Beecher with a smile; and then seating himself at his desk, he turned the sheet over and wrote:
My Dear Sir:--
"I am sorry you should have taken so long a journey to hear Christ preached, and then heard what you are polite enough to call a 'political harangue.' I am sorry, too, that you think I made an ass of myself.In this connection I have but one consolation: that you didn't make an ass of yourself.The Lord did that.""Henry Ward Beecher.
When the Reverend T.De Witt Talmage began to come into public notice in Brooklyn, some of Mr.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.Beecher once met Doctor Talmage in a crowded business thoroughfare, where they got so deeply interested in each other's talk that they sat down in some chairs standing in front of a furniture store.A gathering throng of intensely amused people soon brought the two men to the realization that they had better move.Then Mr.Beecher happened to see that back of their heads had been, respectively, two signs: one reading, "This style $3.45," the other, "This style $4.25.""Well," said Mr.Beecher, as he and Doctor Talmage walked away laughing, "I was ticketed higher than you, Talmage, anyhow.""You're worth more," rejoined Doctor Talmage.
On another occasion, as the two men met they began to bandy each other.
"Now, Talmage," said Mr.Beecher, his eyes twinkling, "let's have it out.My people say that Plymouth holds more people than the Tabernacle, and your folks stand up for the Tabernacle.Now which is it? What is your estimate?""Well, I should say that the Tabernacle holds about fifteen thousand people," said Doctor Talmage with a smile.
"Good," said Mr.Beecher, at once catching the spirit."And I say that Plymouth accommodates, comfortably, twenty thousand people.Now, let's tell our respective trustees that it's settled, once for all."Mr.Beecher could never be induced to take note of what others said of him.His friends, with more heart than head, often tried to persuade him to answer some attack, but he invariably waved them off.He always saw the ridiculous side of those attacks; never their serious import.
At one time a fellow Brooklyn minister, a staunch Prohibitionist, publicly reproved Mr.Beecher for being inconsistent in his temperance views, to the extent that he preached temperance but drank beer at his own dinner-table.This attack angered the friends of Mr.Beecher, who tried to persuade him to answer the charge.But the Plymouth pastor refused."Friend -- is a good fellow," was the only comment they could elicit.
"But he ought to be broadened," persisted the friends.
"Well now," said Mr.Beecher, "that isn't always possible.For instance," he continued, as that inimitable merry twinkle came into his eyes, "sometime ago Friend -- criticised me for something I had said.Ithought he ought not to have done so, and the next time we met I told him so.He persisted, and I felt the only way to treat him was as Iwould an unruly child.So I just took hold of him, laid him face down over my knee, and proceeded to impress him as our fathers used to do of old.And, do you know, I found that the Lord had not made a place on him for me to lay my hand upon."And in the laughter which met this sally Mr.Beecher ended with "You see, it isn't always possible to broaden a man."Mr.Beecher was rarely angry.Once, however, he came near it; yet he was more displeased than angry.Some of his family and Edward had gone to a notable public affair at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, where a box had been placed at Mr.Beecher's disposal.One member of the family was a very beautiful girl who had brought a girl-friend.Both were attired in full evening decollete costume.Mr.Beecher came in late from another engagement.A chair had been kept vacant for him in the immediate front of the box, since his presence had been widely advertised, and the audience was expecting to see him.When he came in, he doffed his coat and was about to go to the chair reserved for him, when he stopped, stepped back, and sat down in a chair in the rear of the box.It was evident from his face that something had displeased him.Mrs.Beecher leaned over and asked him, but he offered no explanation.Nothing was said.
Edward went back to the house with Mr.Beecher; after talking awhile in the study, the preacher, wishing to show him something, was going up-stairs with his guest and had nearly reached the second landing when there was the sound of a rush, the gas was quickly turned low, and two white figures sped into one of the rooms.
"My dears," called Mr.Beecher.
"Yes, Mr.Beecher," came a voice from behind the door of the room in question.
"Come here one minute," said Mr.Beecher.
"But we cannot," said the voice."We are ready for bed.Wait until--""No; come as you are," returned Mr.Beecher.
"Let me go down-stairs," Edward interrupted.
"No; you stay right here," said Mr.Beecher.
