not possibly have also written the humorous description of a house
with all the modern improvements. Sometimes grave, sometimes gay,
sometimes serious, sometimes sportive, concentrating his whole power on
whatever he was doing, working with all his might but also playing with
all his might, when he is on a literary frolic the reader would hardly
suspect that he was ever dominated by a strenuous moral purpose. Yet
there were certain common elements in Mr. Beecher's character which
appeared in his various styles, though mixed in very different
proportions and producing very different combinations. Within the
limits of such a study as this, it must suffice to indicate in very
general terms some of these elements of character which appear in and
really produce his literary method.

Predominant among them was a capacity to discriminate between the
essentials and the accidentals of any subject, a philosophical
perspective which enabled him to see the controlling connection and to
discard quickly such minor details as tended to obscure and to perplex.
Thus a habit was formed which led him not infrequently to ignore
necessary limitations and qualifications, and to make him scientifically
inaccurate, though vitally and ethically true. It was this quality which
led critics to say of him that he was no theologian, though it is
doubtful whether any preacher in America since Jonathan Edwards has
exerted a greater influence on its theology. But this quality imparted
clearness to his style. He always knew what he wanted to say and said it
clearly. He sometimes produced false impressions by the very
strenuousness of his aim and the vehemence of his passion; but he was
never foggy, obscure, or ambiguous.

This clearness of style was facilitated by the singleness of his
purpose. He never considered what was safe, prudent, or expedient to
say, never reflected upon the effect which his speech might have on his
reputation or his influence, considered only how he could make his
hearers apprehend the truth as he saw it. He therefore never played with
words, never used them with a double meaning, or employed them to
conceal his thoughts. He was indeed utterly incapable of making a speech
unless he had a purpose to accomplish; when he tried he invariably
failed; no orator ever had less ability to roll off airy nothings for
the entertainment of an audience.

Coupled with this clearness of vision and singleness of purpose was a
sympathy with m