FROM GIPSY TENT TO PULPIT.
In March, 1860, a family of gipsies camped on a piece of land near
Epping Forest, in the south of England. They were shiftless people
moving here and there over the country according to their whims.
They were not made welcome anywhere, for gipsies have a reputation
for dishonesty, and probably this family named Smith were very much
the same as other members of their tribe. But one day during their
stay in that place--to be exact it was March 31st--a baby boy was
born in that gipsy tent, to whom his parents gave the name of Rodney.
Rodney's parents earned their living very much as other gipsies.
They travelled up and down the country making and selling baskets,
tinware, clothespegs, and recaning cane chairs. Rodney's
father--whose name was Cornelius, also made a business of buying and
selling horses. Of course, young Rodney grew up without education.
He travelled with his parents and soon learned to go from house to
house selling clothespegs and other things. He was a bright lad and
together with his brothers and sisters, soon knew more about the
flowers and birds than most folks. His parents could neither read or
write and so he was not burdened with any kind of lessons. He was
too young to understand the value of education and so did not worry
over that. He was a happy, care-free little fellow, when something
happened which changed his whole life.
Rodney's eldest sister was taken ill and the father drove the gipsy
wagon to the door of the doctor's house. The doctor climbed the
steps of the wagon, leaned over the door and called the sick child to
him. "Your daughter has small-pox," he said to Rodney's father.
"You must get out of the town at once." The sorrow-stricken man
drove his wagon about two miles out of the town to a place called
Morton Lane. There he erected a tent and then drove the wagon
farther down the lane with the sick child in it. He remained in the
wagon with the child while the mother and the other four children
lived in the tent. Soon one of the boys was taken ill and he also
was removed to the wagon. Those were hard days for Rodney's mother.
She would prepare the food for her sick children, then carry it
half-way from the tent to the wagon, then give some signal and the
father would come for it. In her anxiety the poor mother seemed to
approach a little nearer to the wagon each day. One day she came too
near. She too, was taken ill, and when the doctor saw her, he said
it was smallpox.
For several days the man watched tenderly over his wife and cared for
her, but it was of no avail; she gradually sank. Rodney was walking
in the lane with his sister Tilly, when his eldest sister called him.
"Rodney," she said, "mother's dead." The little gipsy lad fell on
his face as though he had been shot. Rodney's mother was only a poor
gipsy woman without any education, but she was mother, and the little
fellow knew that without her life would be much harder.
After his mother's death Rodney continued to help his father by
selling the homemade clothespegs and tinware. He was very proud of
the amount of business he could do. Some days he sold nearly nine
hundred pegs. He was a bright-eyed little fellow, not at all
bashful, and he became a favourite in the towns which the gipsies
visited. When women did not wish to buy or seemed to hesitate, he
would say: "Come, now, Madam, here you have the best pegs on the
market. They will not eat and will not wear clothes out. They will
not cry nor wake you up in the middle of the night." If they still
hesitated, Rodney would tell them that he had no mother. It was no
wonder that with his humour and determination he generally managed to
do a good business.
When Rodney was in his early teens his father became a Christian. It
made a great change for the better in Cornelius Smith and life in
that gipsy wagon became happier. The father was tremendously in
earnest. He gave up his habits of drinking, stealing and swearing,
and wherever the wagon went he sought some place of worship where he
and his family might learn more about God. The change in Cornelius
Smith soon impressed the children and Rodney decided to do as his
father had done, and committed himself in simple trust to God.
Although he was at this time about fifteen, Rodney Smith could
neither read or write. He had never been to school a day in his
life. When he opened the Bible to try and read it, he often had it
the wrong way up. As he passed along the streets of towns where the
wagon was he tried to read the signs over the shops, but it was hard
work, and unless they were very simple words he could not make them
out. By trying in every spare moment, however, he soon learned to
read; slowly at first, but gradually getting on better each day. He
bought a dictionary, and it was in constant use. Whenever he came to
a word he did not understand, down came the dictionary. He had a
good memory, and once he looked up the meaning of a word he seldom
forgot it. He read the Bible a great deal and soon he began to hope
that some day he might be able to preach. He knew that for ten years
he had been roaming about the fields and streets, when he ought to
have been at school, but that was not his fault, and he resolved to
try and make up for lost time. He was a good singer and he often
sang at religious meetings in the towns and villages they visited.
Then he became bold enough to deliver short addresses. As he had
very little education, and had scarcely read anything, these
addresses were very simple, but he was in earnest and did much good.
Just at this time Rev. William Booth--later known as General
Booth--began a movement which was known as the Christian Mission.
Mr. Booth heard about Rodney Smith, and persuaded him to become a
worker with him, and Rodney agreed. This was in 1877, when he was
seventeen years of age.
There was tremendous excitement in the gipsy wagon when Rodney stated
his intention of becoming a preacher. Rodney strode up and down in
front of the wagon with his three or four books under his arm. On
the morning of his departure Rodney dressed himself up in the new
clothes which he had bought with what little money he had. All his
belongings he packed into a box which he had bought for sixty cents.
He bade good-bye to his father and his brothers and sisters, and then
this young gipsy lad, with very little education and scarcely any
money, took the train for London to engage in Christian work. He
arrived in London that same evening and went to the people with whom
he was to live for the time being. That evening Rodney sat up to a
table for a meal, and used a knife and fork, for the first time in
his life. He was terribly embarrassed, and when a piece of linen was
placed beside his plate he did not know what to do with it. He
thought it must be a pocket handkerchief and said so to his hosts.
He could see at once that he had made a mistake, and overwhelmed with
confusion he said: "Please forgive me, I do not know any better. I
am only a gipsy boy, and have never been taught what these things
are. I know I shall make lots of blunders, but if you correct me
whenever I make a mistake I will be grateful. I will never be angry,
and never cross."
A serious difficulty confronted Rodney when he had to conduct his
first services alone. He could speak, pray, and sing, but as yet he
could read only with difficulty. However, he did his best. He would
commence to read a chapter and if he came to big words that he could
not pronounce, he would stop and talk a little, then begin to read
again at the other side of the big word. He soon became known as a
good speaker and an earnest worker. The fact that he was a gipsy
attracted people's attention and before long he was speaking
regularly to large gatherings.
During the few years following Rodney made great progress. He soon
learned to read with ease and his addresses were listened to with
great interest. He rose early in the mornings and spent several
hours in reading and in devotions. During the afternoons he visited
those in need, and in the evenings he addressed meetings both in the
open-air and in halls. He was often sent to towns where the work of
the Christian Mission was at a very low ebb, but wherever he went it
was the same, his earnest preaching and sweet singing attracted the
people.
While he was stationed at Hull his congregations were greater than
ever. Often fifteen hundred people would be gathered at the
Sunday-morning prayer meeting at seven a.m., and the crowds at the
regular services were so great that often thousands would be unable
to get into the large building. Rodney was by this time married and
known as "Gipsy Smith", and the Christian Mission had become the
Salvation Army. Under his care the work at Hull grew so that 15,000
copies of the _War Cry_ were sold each week.
From Hull Gipsy Smith was sent to Hanley. Here he found a small
number of people worshipping in a large building which had been a
circus. Soon the old circus which held 2,500 people was crowded to
the doors, and crowds as great, if not greater, than those which had
gathered at Hull, came to hear the gipsy. There was a great revival
of religion and the influence of it was felt for many miles around.
Soon after this Gipsy Smith began work as an evangelist among the
churches, and he has continued to do this with great success up to
the present time. In 1886, at the earnest request of some friends,
he paid his first visit to America. When he arrived in New York he
was scarcely known to any and the idea of a gipsy preacher rather
startled the ministers and members of the churches. After some
hesitation the minister of a large church agreed to have Gipsy Smith
conduct a mission in his church. It was a large building, holding
fifteen hundred people, but it was packed from the first service, and
continued so for the three weeks that the gipsy was there. Soon more
requests came in for services than the Gipsy could grant. The
newspapers contained glowing accounts of his work, and from all sides
came testimonies to the great good that he had done. Thousands of
people were blessed under his earnest preaching, and when the time
came for him to return to England a vast number of people wished him
god-speed.
People who heard Gipsy Smith preach could scarcely believe that he
had been born in a gipsy tent and had never spent a day in school.
His use of the English language was so good, and his thoughts so fine
and clear, that it seemed as if he must have received his training in
a university. But he never forgot, himself, nor did he wish any one
else to forget, what a very lowly beginning he had.
After his return to England Gipsy Smith became an assistant to the
Rev. F. S. Collier, of Manchester. Here he continued to be a means
of blessing to great numbers of people. Sometimes he preached to
congregations of over five thousand, and always with good results.
He soon became known as one of the greatest evangelists of Great
Britain and wielded a great influence for good.
Gipsy Smith has paid several visits to America, and each time he has
risen higher in the respect and love of the people. Wherever he goes
crowds flock to hear him, and they are never disappointed. Americans
have learned to look upon his visits as red-letter days for the
churches, and if he could be spared from the Homeland, he would be
warmly welcomed on this side of the Atlantic.
Gipsy Smith has preached in nearly all parts of the British Empire.
He has been, for many years now, one of the great evangelists of the
homeland. Thousands of people have been made better by his simple,
direct message. Many great men have recognized in him a prophet of
God, and they have been glad to honour him as such. He has counted
among his friends some of the greatest men living, yet he has never
lost his simplicity and gratitude to God for making him what he is.
Not long ago he said: "I have had rich and strange experiences. I
have lived in many houses, the guest of many sorts and conditions of
people. I have been presented to two presidents of the United
States, dined with bishops and archbishops. In my study hangs a
letter from her late Majesty, Queen Victoria, and another from a
royal duchess, but the most treasured things in my home are two
pictures which adorn the walls of my bedroom. One is the picture of
the wagon in which my mother died, and the other is a picture of a
group of gipsies. I never sleep in that room without looking at
these pictures and saying to myself: "Rodney, you would have been
there to-day but for the grace of God. Glory be to His name for
ever."