Drawing-Room Meetings, 1852-53.
From that time I did not confine myself so much to my own church, but
frequently went out to preach in other places, as opportunities
occurred; and these were, for the most part, brought about by remarkable
and unsought-for incidents.
One Sunday a lady and gentleman came to my church from one of the
neighbouring towns; they were professors of religion, and members of
some Dissenting body. My sermon that evening was upon wheat and
chaff--the former was to be gathered into the garner, the latter burned
with fire unquenchable. I said that we were all either one or the
other--to be gathered or burned. They went away very angry, and
complained one to another of my want of charity; they also remarked that
I took good care to let the people know that I was not amongst the chaff
which was to be burned. The arrows of the Lord had evidently found them,
and had pierced the joints in their harness. They could not sleep all
night for anger and distress. In the morning the gentleman rose early,
and before breakfast had his horse out, and galloped over eight miles to
see me. He came with the intention of finding fault, but instead of this
he burst into tears, and told me that he was the greatest of sinners.
He was in sore distress, which increased all the more as he gave vent to
his feelings. I could not help rejoicing, and told him that God had
wounded him, but that He only wounds to heal, and kills to make alive.
"Ah," he said, "that is the first thought of comfort I have had; it is
like balm to my soul."
We knelt down and prayed; then I had the privilege of leading him to
Christ, and we praised God together.
I gave him some breakfast, and after that rode back with him to see his
wife, whom he had left in the morning in great trouble of mind. We found
her up, and rejoicing. It was most touching to witness the mutual
surprise and joy of these two loving ones, when they discovered that
they were now united in the Lord.
She told us, that after her husband's departure she was in such terrible
trouble that she got up to pray, and that while she was on her knees she
saw a vision on the bed-cover. Before her was printed, in large visible
letters, "Thy sins be forgiven thee;" she could scarcely believe her
eyes, but with her own finger she traced the letters, and was sure they
were there. Taking them as a message from Christ, she rose and thanked
Him, and now felt quite sure she was saved. I could not help telling her
not to believe in her eyes or her visions, but in Jesus, and the fact
that He had died for her. Having thanked God together, they next began
to think of their servants; so we sent for them, and both master and
mistress told them what the Lord had done for their souls; and while we
were praying, they all three cried aloud for mercy, and found peace.
This was the commencement of a good work in that town by drawing-room
meetings, and many were gathered to the Lord. Amongst the number was the
mayor of the town, who in his turn wished to have a meeting at his
house. As soon as I was able to fix the day, he invited his friends, but
on finding that so many more desired to come than he could accommodate,
he announced that the meeting would be held at the Town Hall. Great
interest was excited, and it was soon evident that even this building
would not be large enough, so it ended in the Temperance Hall being
selected. The vicar hearing about it, wrote to protest, and asked me to
call on him before I went to the place of meeting. He said it was bad
enough for me to come to his parish to private houses, but to come to a
public room, and that a large one, was quite out of the question.
I endeavoured to show him that the lecture or address I had come to give
was not an official or ministerial act; but he would not see that. I
also suggested that there was no law against it. He, begging my pardon,
said "The 'Conventicle Act' had not been repealed yet, and that no one
could lawfully hold a meeting of more than twenty persons."
"But surely," I replied, "that is virtually repealed by the 'Toleration
Act.' A clergyman ought not to be in greater bondage in England than a
layman, or more restricted. Anybody else can come and preach the Gospel
in your parish, and you cannot hinder it. Do not hinder me. It will do
you no harm."
He said, "I cannot conscientiously allow it. It is against the Canons."
"Which Canon is it against?" I asked.
He took down a book and showed it me, but casting my eyes on the one
before, and another which followed, I found that we neither of us
observed the one or the other. Why, then, be so zealous about this?
"Besides," I said, "you are not responsible; you have not asked me, nor
have I asked your consent. Your conscience need not be troubled about
the matter."
"But," he said, impatiently, "I am determined that you shall not preach
in this parish. I will inform the Bishop."
I replied, that "the Bishop had not any jurisdiction in this case; there
is no law on the subject. The Conventicle Act only refers to worship,
not to service or preaching."
He said, that he "could see no difference whatever between worship and
service."
"But," I said, "I am sure the Bishop knows, and will acknowledge, the
great difference between these two."
Then, changing his tone, he said, "Now, come, there's a good fellow,
don't preach at the Town Hall."
"My dear man," I answered, "I am not a 'good fellow' at all I cannot
give it up."
"Then," he said, "at least please to defer your address for a week, till
we can get the Bishop's decision."
He asked so kindly and earnestly, and made such a point of it, that I
consented to wait for the Bishop's answer, and defer the preaching for a
week. He was very pleased, and said that I was indeed a 'good fellow',
but the praise I got from him barely satisfied my conscience, and I was
ashamed to meet my friends. I had not gone far before my courage failed;
so, going back, I said that "I must withdraw my consent to defer the
meeting. I will take the consequences and responsibilities, and go on."
"No, no." cried the vicar, "I will arrange for the Postponement of your
meeting. Look here, I have written out a notice for the crier; he shall
go round the town at once, and tell the people that the meeting is
unavoidably deferred for a week."
I was very reluctantly persuaded to yield, and then went to my friend
and told him what I had done. He was very much vexed with me, and said,
"Then we must go at once and tell the mayor before he hears the crier."
We did so, and found that this personage was disappointed too, and
advised me to go away out of sight of the people. Accordingly, my friend
and I went to a house which commanded a good view of the town and
principal streets, from whence we could see the people assembling and
dispersing. A large gang of them stood opposite my friend's house, and
asked if I would not preach to them in the open air; and when they
ascertained that the vicar had hindered the preaching, they were much
exasperated.
In the evening I went back to my own parish, and had the usual service,
which I found very refreshing after so much bickering about
technicalities.
The Bishop's letter arrived in due time. In it his lordship said, that
he "always had entertained a great esteem for me and my obedience to
authority, and highly commended me for postponing or giving up my
service at the above town." As he did not say a single word of
prohibition, I immediately wrote to the mayor to expect me on the
following Tuesday, "For the Bishop had not forbidden me," and I also
wrote to the vicar to the same effect. Large bills, with large letters
on them, announced that "the Rev. William Haslam will positively preach
in the Temperance Hall at three o'clock on Tuesday next."
The churchwardens of the parish were requested to attend the meeting,
and protest, on behalf of the vicar, and also to present the
archdeacon's monition. They stood beside me all the time, and after the
service was concluded they showed me the archidiaconal instrument, with
a great seal appended to it. They said that they "dared not stop that
preaching," and so they took their monition back.
This gave rise to a long correspondence in the newspapers, some taking
part on my side, and some against me. Thus the question was ventilated,
and finally concluded, by a letter from some one, who said, "The Bishop
of Exeter is one of the greatest ecclesiastical lawyers we have, and if
he cannot stop Mr. Haslam, the question is settled; for be sure his
lordship has all the will to stop this preaching, and would do so if he
had the power."
From that time I never hesitated to preach the Gospel in any parish or
diocese where I was invited. So few of the clergy asked me, that I was
obliged to go out in spite of them, or, at any rate, without asking
their consent, and in consequence of this, I am afraid I became
obnoxious to many of my clerical brethren. Since then things are much
changed. The Earl of Shaftesbury has succeeded in getting an Act passed
through both Houses of Parliament, to settle the question about such
services. Now any clergyman may preach in Exeter Hall, or any other
public non-ecclesiastical building, without consulting the vicar of the
parish. Besides this, a general disposition has arisen amongst the
clergy, from one end of the land to the other, to have "missions," so
that there is no need to work independently of clergymen, but with them,
and very cheering it is to be thus employed. It was not pleasant to
witness the scowl and the frown, nor to get the cold shoulder. Thank
God, times are changed now; but I must needs tell of some of the scenes
I was in, and the opposition I had to encounter, during the years that
are gone by.