MOODY AND SANKEY IN LONDON.
LONDON, June 10th.
To an American, visiting London just now, the object of most interest
is the meetings of his countrymen, Moody and Sankey. He has heard so
much of them, that he is curious to see with his own eyes just what
they are. One thing is undeniable--that they have created a prodigious
sensation. London is a very big place to make a stir in. A pebble
makes a ripple in a placid lake, while a rock falling from the side of
a mountain disappears in an instant in the ocean. London is an ocean.
Yet here these meetings have been thronged as much as in other cities
of Great Britain, and that not by the common people alone (although
they have heard gladly), but by representatives of all classes. For
several weeks they were held in the Haymarket Theatre, right in the
centre of fashionable London, and in the very place devoted to its
amusements; yet it was crowded to suffocation, and not only by
Dissenters, but by members of the Established Church, among whom were
such men as Dean Stanley, and Mr. Gladstone, and Lord-Chancellor
Cairns. The Duchess of Sutherland was a frequent attendant. All this
indicates, if only a sensation, at least a sensation of quite
extraordinary character. No doubt the multitude was drawn together in
part by curiosity. The novelty was an attraction; and, like the old
Athenians, they ran together into the market-place to hear some new
thing. This alone would have drawn them once or twice, but the
excitement did not subside. If some fell off, others rushed in, so
that the place was crowded to the last. Those meetings closed just
before we reached London, to be opened in another quarter of the great
city.
Last Sunday we went to hear Mr. Spurgeon, and he announced that on
Thursday (to-day) Messrs. Moody and Sankey would commence a new series
of meetings for the especial benefit of the South of London. A large
structure had been erected for the purpose. He warmly endorsed the
movement, and spoke in high praise of the men, especially for the
modesty and tact and the practical judgment they showed along with
their zeal; and urged all, instead of standing aloof and criticizing,
to join heartily in the effort which he believed would result in great
good. In a conversation afterward in his study, Mr. Spurgeon said to
me that Moody was the most simple-minded of men; that he told him on
coming here, "I am the most over-estimated and over-praised man in the
world." This low esteem of himself, and readiness to take any place,
so that he may do his Master's work, ought to disarm the disposition
to judge him according to the rules of rigid literary, or rhetorical,
or even theological, criticism.
This new tabernacle which has been built for Mr. Moody is set up at
Camberwell Green, on the south side of the Thames, not very far from
Mr. Spurgeon's church. It is a huge structure, standing in a large
enclosure, which is entered by gates. The service was to begin at
three o'clock. It was necessary to have tickets for admission, which I
obtained from the Hon. Arthur Kinnaird, a Member of Parliament, who is
about as well known in London as Lord Shaftesbury for his activity in
all good works. He advised me to go early to anticipate the crowd. We
started from Piccadilly at half-past one, and drove quietly over
Westminster Bridge, thinking we should be in ample time. But as we
approached Camberwell Green it was evident that there was a tide
setting toward the place of meeting, which swelled till the crowd
became a rush. There were half a dozen entrances. We asked for the
one to the platform, and were directed some distance around. Arrived
at the gates we found them shut and barred, and guarded by policemen,
who said they had received orders to admit no more, as the place was
already more than full, although the pressure outside was increasing
every instant. We might have been turned back from the very doors of
the sanctuary, if Mr. Kinnaird had not given me, besides the tickets,
a letter to Mr. Hodder, who was the chief man in charge, directing him
to take us in and give us seats on the platform. This I passed through
the gates to the policeman, who sent it on to some of the managers
within, and word came back that the bearers of the letter should be
admitted. But this was easier said than done. How to admit us two
without admitting others was a difficult matter; indeed, it was an
impossibility. The policemen tried to open the gates a little way, so
as to permit us to pass in; but as soon as the gates were ajar, the
guardians themselves were swept away. In vain they tried to stem the
torrent. The crowd rushed past them, (and would have rushed over them,
if they had stood in the way,) and surged up to the building. Here
again the crush was terrific. Had we foreseen it, we should not have
attempted the passage; but once in the stream, it was easier to go
forward than to go back. There was no help for it but to wait till the
tide floated us in; and so, after some minutes we were landed at last
in one of the galleries, from which we could take in a view of the
scene.
It was indeed a wonderful spectacle. The building is somewhat like
Barnum's Hippodrome, though not so large, and of better shape for
speaking and hearing, being not so oblong, but more square, with deep
galleries, and will hold, I should say, at a rough estimate, six or
eight thousand people. The front of the galleries was covered with
texts in large letters, such as "God is Love"; "Jesus only"; "Looking
unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith"; "Come unto Me, all
ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." At each
corner was a room marked "For inquirers."
As we had entered by mistake the wrong door, instead of finding
ourselves on the platform beside Mr. Moody, we had been borne by the
crowd to the gallery at the other end of the building; but this had
one advantage, that of enabling us to test the power of the voices of
the speakers to reach such large audiences. While the immense
assemblage were getting settled in their places, several hymns were
sung, which quietly and gently prepared them for the services that
were to follow.
At length Mr. Moody appeared. The moment he rose, there was a movement
of applause, which he instantly checked with a wave of his hand, and
at once proceeded to business, turning the minds of the audience to
something besides himself, by asking them to rise and sing the
stirring hymn,
"Ring the bells of heaven! there is joy to-day!"
The whole assembly rose, and caught up the words with such energy that
the rafters rang with the mighty volume of sound. A venerable
minister, with white locks, then rose, and clinging to the railing for
support, and raising his voice, offered a brief but fervent prayer.
Mr. Moody's part in this opening service, it had been announced
beforehand, would be merely to _preside_, while others spoke; and he
did little more than to introduce them. He read, however, a few verses
from the parable of the talents, and urged on every one the duty to
use whatever gift he had, be it great or small, and not bury his
talent in a napkin. His voice was clear and strong, and where I sat I
heard distinctly. What he said was good, though in no wise remarkable.
Mr. Sankey touched us much more as he followed with an appropriate
hymn:
"Nothing but leaves!"
As soon as I caught his first notes, I felt that there was _one_
cause of the success of these meetings. His voice is very powerful,
and every word was given with such distinctness that it reached every
ear in the building. All listened with breathless interest as he sang:
"Nothing but leaves! the Spirit grieves
Over a wasted life;
O'er sins indulged while conscience slept,
O'er vows and promises unkept,
And reaps from years of strife--
Nothing but leaves! nothing but leaves!"
Rev. Mr. Aitken, of Liverpool, then made an address of perhaps half an
hour, following up the thought of Mr. Moody on the duty of all to join
in the effort they were about to undertake. His address, without being
eloquent, was earnest and practical, to which Mr. Sankey gave a
thrilling application in another of his hymns, in which the closing
line of every verse was,
"Here am I; send me, send me!"
Mr. Spurgeon was reserved for the closing address, and spoke, as he
always does, very forcibly. I noticed, as I had before, one great
element of his power, viz., his illustrations, which are most apt. For
example, he was urging ministers and Christians of all denominations
to join in this movement, and wished to show the folly of a
contentious spirit among them. To expose its absurdity, he said:
"A few years ago I was in Rome, and there I saw in the Vatican a
statue of two wrestlers, in the attitude of men trying to throw each
other. I went back two years after, and they were in the same
struggle, and I suppose are at it still!" Everybody saw the
application. Such a constrained posture might do in a marble statue,
but could anything be more ridiculous than for living men thus to
stand always facing each other in an attitude of hostility and
defiance? "And there too," he proceeded, "was another statue of a boy
pulling a thorn out of his foot. I went to Rome again, and there he
was still, with the same bended form, and the same look of pain,
struggling to be free. I suppose he is there still, and will be to all
eternity!" What an apt image of the self-inflicted torture of some
who, writhing under real or imagined injury, hug their grievance and
their pain, instead of at once tearing it away, and standing erect as
men in the full liberty wherewith Christ makes his people free.
Again, he was illustrating the folly of some ministers in giving so
much time and thought to refuting infidel objections, by which they
often made their people's minds familiar with what they would never
have heard of, and filled them with doubt and perplexity. He said the
process reminded him of what was done at a grotto near Naples, which
is filled with carbonic acid gas so strong that life cannot exist in
it, to illustrate which the vile people of the cave seize a wretched
dog, and throw him in, and in a few minutes the poor animal is nearly
dead. Then they deluge him with cold water to bring him round. Just
about as wise are those ministers who, having to preach the Gospel of
Christ, think they must first drop their hearers into a pit filled
with the asphyxiating gas of a false philosophy, to show how they can
apply their hydropathy in recovering them afterwards. Better let them
keep above ground, and breathe all the time the pure, blessed air of
heaven.
Illustrations like these told upon the audience, because they were so
apt, and so informed with common sense. Mr. Spurgeon has an utter
contempt for scientific charlatans and literary dilettanti, and all
that class of men who have no higher business in life than to carp and
criticise. He would judge everything by its practical results. If
sneering infidels ask, What good religion does? he points to those it
has saved, to the men it has reformed, whom it has lifted up from
degradation and death; and exclaims with his tremendous voice, "There
they are! standing on the shore, saved from shipwreck and ruin!" That
result is the sufficient answer to all cavil and objection.
"And now," continued Mr. Spurgeon, applying what he had said, "here
are these two brethren who have come to us from over the sea, whom God
has blessed wherever they have labored in Scotland, in Ireland, and in
England. It may be said they are no wiser or better than our own
preachers or laymen. Perhaps not. But somehow, whether by some novelty
of method, or some special tact, they have caught the popular ear, and
that of itself is a great point gained--they have got a hold on the
public mind." Again he resorted to illustration to make his point.
"Some years ago," he said, "I was crossing the Maritime Alps. We were
going up a pretty heavy grade, and the engine, though a powerful one,
labored hard to drag us up the steep ascent, till at length it came to
a dead stop. I got out to see what was the matter, for I didn't like
the look of things, and there we were stuck fast in a snow-drift! The
engine was working as hard as ever, and the wheels continued to
revolve; but the rails were icy, and the wheels could not take
hold--they could not get any _grip_--and so the train was unable to
move. So it is with some men, and some ministers. They are splendid
engines, and they have steam enough. The wheels revolve all right,
only they don't get any _grip_ on the rails, and so the train doesn't
move. Now our American friends have somehow got this grip on the
public mind; when they speak or sing, the people hear. Without
debating _why_ this is, or _how_ it is, let us thank God for it, and
try to help them in the use of the power which God has given them."
After this stirring address of Mr. Spurgeon, Mr. Moody announced the
arrangements for the meetings, which would be continued in that place
for thirty days; and with another rousing hymn the meeting closed.
This, it is given out, is to be the last month of Moody and Sankey in
England, and of course they hope it will be the crown of all their
labors.
After the service was ended, and the audience had partly dispersed, we
made our way around to the other end of the building, and had a good
shake of the hand with Mr. Moody, with whom I had spent several days
at Mr. Henry Bewley's, in Dublin, in 1867, and then travelled with him
to London, little dreaming that he would ever excite such a commotion
in this great Babylon, or have such a thronging multitude to hear him
as I have seen to-day.
And now, what of it all? It would be presumption to give an opinion on
a single service, and that where the principal actor in these scenes
was almost silent. Certainly there are some drawbacks. For my part, I
had rather worship in less of a crowd. If there is anything which I
shrink from, it is getting into a crush from which there is no escape,
and being obliged to struggle for life. Sometimes, indeed, it may be a
duty, but it is not an agreeable one. Paul fought with beasts at
Ephesus, but I don't think he liked it; and it seems to me a pretty
near approach to being thrown to the lions, to be caught in a rushing,
roaring London crowd.
And still I must not do it injustice. It was not a mob, but only a
very eager and excited concourse of people; who, when once settled in
the building, were attentive and devout. Perhaps the assembly to-day
was more so than usual, as the invitation for this opening service had
been "to Christians," and probably the bulk of those present were
members of neighboring churches. They were, for the most part, very
plain people, but none the worse for that, and they joined in the
service with evident interest, singing heartily the hymns, and turning
over their Bibles to follow the references to passages of Scripture.
Their simple sincerity and earnestness were very touching.
As to Mr. Moody, in the few remarks he made I saw no sign of
eloquence, not a single brilliant flash, such as would have lighted
up a five minutes' talk of our friend Talmage; but there was the
impressiveness of a man who was too much in earnest to care for
flowers of rhetoric; whose heart was in his work, and who, intent on
that alone, spoke with the utmost simplicity and plainness. I hear it
frequently said that his power is not in any extraordinary gift of
speech, but _in organizing Christian work_. One would suppose that
this long-continued labor would break him down, but on the contrary,
he seems to thrive upon it, and has grown stout and burly as any
Englishman, and seems ready for many more campaigns.
As to the result of his labors, instead of volunteering an opinion on
such slight observation, it is much more to the purpose to give the
judgment of others who have had full opportunity to see his methods,
and to observe the fruits. I have conversed with men of standing and
influence in Dublin, Belfast, Glasgow, and Edinburgh--men not at all
likely to be carried away by any sudden fanaticism. All speak well of
him, and believe that he has done good in their respective cities.
This certainly is very high testimony, and for the present is the best
we can have. They say that he shows great _tact_ in keeping clear of
difficulties, not allying himself with sects or parties, and awakening
no prejudices, so that Baptists, like Mr. Spurgeon, and Methodists and
Independents and Presbyterians, all work together. In Scotland, men of
the Free Church and of the National Church joined in the meetings, and
one cannot but hope that the tendency of this general religious
movement will be to incline the hearts of those noble, but now divided
brethren, more and more towards each other.
What will be the effect in London, it is too soon to say. It seems
almost impossible to make any impression on a city which is a world in
itself. London has nearly four millions of inhabitants--more than the
six States of New England put together! It is the monstrous growth of
our modern civilization. With its enormous size, it contains more
wealth than any city in the world, _and more poverty_--more luxury on
the one hand, and more misery on the other. To those who have explored
the low life of London, the revelations are terrific. The
wretchedness, the filth, the squalor, the physical pollution and moral
degradation in which vast numbers live, is absolutely appalling.
And can such a seething mass of humanity be reached by any Christian
influences? That is the problem to be solved. It is a gigantic
undertaking. Whatever can make any impression upon it, deserves the
support of all good men. I hope fervently that the present movement
may leave a moral result that shall remain after the actors in it have
passed away.