. Henry Ward Beecher. By Lyman Abbott. (Hodder and Stoughton.
'Is. 6d.)—Dr. Abbott gives in this volume a careful appreciation of H. W. Beecher, whose place at Plymouth Church he was called to fill. Some thirty years before he had become a hearer, and describes himself as having been profoundly im- pressed by what he heard. "He revolutionised my theology by revolutionising my life," and he proceeds to give a summary of the new theology, as he has given before a summary of the old. The old we may roughly compare to the theology of Jonathan Edwards ; the new to that of F. D. Maurice. It is quite clear that Dr. Abbott has the best of titles to speak. Our readers will do well to note what he says. He gives a chapter to the painful episode of the Tilton case. Here, again, he had special oppor- tunities for judging, and his verdict of absolute acquittal must be allowed great weight. Very important, too, is the fact that the membership of Plymouth Church suffered no diminution even in the crisis of the affair. But there is one chapter to which every English reader should give a close attention ; it is that which describes the "Campaign in England." Dr. Abbott says with truth that in England it is considered perfectly fair, so long as no physical violence is used, to prevent a speaker from being heard. It is a discreditable practice, used by both parties, and especially by that with whose theories it least consists. Within the last few weeks it has been used just as freely as it was used forty years ago against H. W. Beecher. The story of how he wrestled with, and practically vanquished, this kind of opposition is most interesting. His weapons were indomitable courage, absolute readiness to seize every chance, and unfailing humour. One word, however, we must say. "Feudal England," writes Dr. Abbott, "had always looked with both suspicion and aversion on her democratic daughter." The England of 1862 was not "feudal." Mr. Gladstone was not a feudal politician. That the popular sympathies were deplorably misdirected is true—the Spectator is certainly free to say so—but it must not be forgotten that these sympathies were somewhat moved by not a few threats and affronts that the United States Government had used to this country. English people felt—the feeling was selfish, but natural —that the States split into two nations would be less formidable, exactly as a few years afterwards they felt that the defeat of France meant a period of freedom from anxiety.
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