Forty-four years ago the Ebenezer of a few believers in the "Bird-
of-Freedom" school, with a spice of breezy religious courage in
their composition, was raised at the bottom of Cannon-street, in
Preston; and to this day it abideth there. Why it was elevated at
that particular period of the world's history we cannot say. Neither
does it signify. It may have been that the spirit of an
irrepressible Brown, older than the Harper's Ferry gentleman, was
"marching on" at an extra speed just then; for let it be known to
all and singular that it was one of the universal Brown family who
founded the general sect. Or it may have been that certain
Prestonians, with a lingering touch of the "Scot's wha ha'e"
material in their blood, gave a solemn twist to the line in Burns's
epistle, and decided to go in
--for the glorious privilege
Of being Independent.
Be that as it may, it is clear that in 1825 the Independents planted
a chapel in Cannon-street. Places of worship like everything else,
good or evil, grow in these latter days, and so has Cannon-street
chapel. In 1852 its supporters set at naught the laws of Banting,
and made the place bigger. It was approaching a state of solemn
tightness, and for the consolation of the saints, the ease of the
fidgety, and the general blissfulness of the neighbourhood it was
expanded. Cannon-street Chapel has neither a bell, nor a steeple,
nor an outside clock, and it has never yet said that it was any
worse off for their absence. But it may do, for chapels like
churches are getting proud things now-a-days, and they believe in
both lacker and gilt. There is something substantial and respectable
about the building. It is neither gaudy nor paltry; neither too good
nor too bad looking. Nobody will ever die in a state of
architectural ecstacy through gazing upon it; and not one out of a
battalion of cynics will say that it is too ornamental. It is one of
those well-finished, middle-class looking establishments, about
which you can't say much any way; and if you could, nobody would be
either madder or wiser for the exposition. Usually the only
noticeable feature about the front of it--and that is generally the
place where one looks for the virtues or vices of a thing--is a
series of caged-up boards, announcing homilies, and tea parties, and
collections all over the north Lancashire portion of Congregational
Christendom. It is to be hoped that the sermons are not too dry,
that the tea saturnalias are neither too hot nor too wet, and that
the collections have more sixpenny than threepenny pieces in them.
The interior of Cannon-street Chapel has a spacious and somewhat
genteel appearance. A practical business air pervades it. There is
no "storied window," scarcely any "dim religious light," and not a
morsel of extra colouring in the whole establishment. At this place,
the worshippers have an idea that they are going to get to heaven in
a plain way, and if they succeed, all the better--we were going to
say that they would be so much the more into pocket by it. Freedom
of thought, sincerity of heart, and going as straight to the point
as possible, is what they aim at. There are many seats in Cannon-
street Chapel, and, as it is said that hardly any of them are to
let, the reverend gentleman who makes a stipulated descent upon the
pew rents ought to be happy. It is but seldom the pews are well
filled: they are not even crammed on collection Sundays; but they
are paid for, and if a congenial wrinkle does not lurk in that fact-
-for the minister--he will find neither the balm of Gilead nor a
doctor anywhere. The clerical notion is, that pew rents, as well as
texts; must be stuck to; and if those who pay and listen quietly
acquiesce, then it becomes a simple question of "so mote it be" for
outsiders.
The congregation at Cannon-street Chapel is made up of tolerably
respectable materials. It is no common Dissenting rendezvous for
ill-clad screamers and roaring enthusiasts. Neither fanatics nor
ejaculators find an abiding place in it. Not many poor people join
the charmed circle. A middle-class, shopkeeping halo largely
environs the assemblage. There is a good deal of pride, vanity,
scent, and silk-rustling astir in it every Sunday, just as there is
in every sacred throng; and the oriental, theory of caste is not
altogether ignored. The ordinary elements of every Christian
congregation are necessarily visible here--backsliders and newly-
caught communicants; ancient women duly converted and moderately
fond of tea, snuff, and charity; people who cough continually, and
will do so in their graves if not closely watched; parties, with the
Fates against them, who fly off periodically into fainting fits;
contented individuals, whose gastric juice flows evenly, who can
sleep through the most impassioned sermon with the utmost serenity;
weather-beaten orthodox souls who have been recipients of ever so
much daily grace for half a life time, and fancy they are
particularly near paradise; lofty and isolated beings who have a
fixed notion that they are quite as respectable if not as pious as
other people; easy-going well-dressed creatures "whose life glides
away in a mild and amiable conflict between the claims of piety and
good breeding."
But the bulk are of a substantial, medium-going description--
practical, sharp, respectable, and naturally inclined towards a
free, well got up, reasonable theology. There is nothing inflamed in
them--nothing indicative of either a very thick or very thin skin.
Any of them will lend you a hymn book, and whilst none of them may
be inclined to pay your regular pew rent, the bulk will have no
objection to find you an occasional seat, and take care of you if
there would be any swooning in your programme. Clear-headed and full
of business, they believe with Binney in making the best of both
worlds. They will never give up this for the next, nor the next for
this. Into their curriculum there enters, as the American preacher
hath it, a sensible regard for piety and pickles, flour and
affection, the means of grace and good profits, crackers and faith,
sincerity and onions, benevolence, cheese, integrity, potatoes, and
wisdom--all remarkably good in their way, and calculated, when well
shaken up and applied, to Christianise anybody. The genteel portion
of the congregation principally locate themselves in the side seats
running from one end of the chapel to the other; the every day
mortals find a resting place in the centre and the galleries; the
poorer portion are pushed frontwards below, where they have an
excellent opportunity of inspecting the pulpit, of singing like
nightingales, of listening to every articulation of the preacher,
and of falling into a state of coma if they are that way disposed.
The music at this place of worship has been considerably improved
during recent times; but it is nothing very amazing yet. There is a
curtain amount of cadence, along with a fair share of power, in the
orchestral outbursts; the pieces the choir have off go well; those
they are new at rather hang fire; but we shall not parry with either
the conductor or the members on this point. They all manifest a
fairly-defined devotional feeling in their melody; turn their visual
faculties in harmony with the words: expand and contract their
pulmonary processes with precision and if they mean what they sing,
they deserve better salaries than they usually get. They are aided
by an organ which is played well, and, we hope, paid for.
The minister of Cannon-street chapel is the Rev. H. J. Martyn, who
has had a good stay with "the brethren," considering that their
fighting weight is pretty heavy, and that some of them were made to
"have their way." Frequently Independents are in hot water
concerning their pastors. In Preston they are very exemplary in this
respect. The Grimshaw street folk have had a storm in a tea pot with
one of their ministers; so have the Lancaster-road Christians; and
so have the Cannon-street believers; and the beauty of it is, they
generally win. Born to have their own way in sacred matters, they
can turn off a parson, if they can't defeat him in argument. And
that is a great thing. They hold the purse strings; and no parson
can live unless he has a "call" to some other "vineyard," if they
are closed against him. On the whole, the present minister of
Cannon-street Chapel has got on pretty evenly with his flock. He has
had odd skirmishes in his spiritual fold; and will have if he stays
in it for ever; but the sheep have a very fair respect for the
shepherd, and can "paint the lily" gracefully. A while since they
gave him leave of absence--paying his salary, of course, whilst
away--and on his return some of them got up a tea party on his
behalf and made him a presentation. There might be party spirit or
there might be absolute generosity in such a move; but the parson
was no loser--he enjoyed the out, and accepted with Christian
fortitude the gift. The Rev. H. J. Martyn is a small gentleman--
considerably below the average of parsons in physical proportion;
but he consoles himself with the thought that he is all right in
quality, if not in quantity. Diminutive men have generally very fair
notions of themselves; small men as a rule are smarter than those of
the bulky and adipose school; and, harmonising with this regulation,
Mr. Martyn is both sharp and kindly disposed towards himself. He is
not of opinion, like one of his predecessors, that he assisted at
the creation of the world, and that the endurance of Christianity
depends upon his clerical pivot; but he believes that he has a
"mission," and that on the whole he is quite as good as the majority
of Congregational divines. There is nothing pretentious in his
appearance; nothing ecclesiastical in his general framework; and in
the street he looks almost as much like anybody else as like a
parson. The education of Mr. Martyn is equal to that of the average
of Dissenting ministers, and better than that of several. He is,
however, more of a reader than a thinker, and more of a speaker than
either. On the platform he can make as big a stir as men twice his
size. His delivery is moderately even; his words clear; and he can
throw a good dash of imagination into his language. In the pulpit,
to the foot of which place he is led every Sunday, by certain sacred
diaconal lamas, who previously "rub him down" and saddle him for
action, in a contiguous apartment--in the pulpit, we say, he
operates in a superior style, and he looks better there--more like a
parson--than anywhere else. He is here above the ordinary level of
his hearers; if it were not for the galleries, minute as may be his
physiology, he would be the loftiest being present; and if he wishes
to "keep up appearances," we would advise him to remain in the
pulpit and have his meals there. Casting joking overboard--out of
the pulpit if you like--it may be said that Mr. Martyn as a preacher
has many fair qualities. It is true he has defects; but who has
not?--unless it be a deacon;--still there is something in his style
which indicates earnestness, something in his language,
demonstrative of culture and eloquence. His main pulpit fault is
that he "goes off" too soon and too frequently. In the course of a
sermon he will give you three or four perorations, and sometimes
wind up without treating you to one. There is nothing very
metaphysical in his subjects; sometimes he wanders slightly into
space; occasionally he exhausts himself in fighting out the
mysteries of faith, and grace, and justification; but in the
ordinary run of his talk you can get good pictures of practical
matters. He is a lover of nature, is fond of talking about the
sublime and the beautiful, conjointly with other things freely named
in Burke's essay, can pile up the agony with a good deal of ability,
and split the ears of the groundlings as the occasion requires. He
can get into a white heat quickly, or blow his solemn anger
gradually--wind it up by degrees, and make it burst at a given point
of feeling. He is a better declaimer than reasoner--has a stronger
flow of imagination than logic. There is nothing bitter or mocking
in his tone. He seldom flings the shafts of ridicule or irony. He
constructs calmly, and then sends up the rocket: he draws you
slowly to a certain point, and then tells you to look out for "it's
coming." His apparatus is well fixed; he can give you any kind of
dissolving view. His ecstacies are rapid and, therefore, soon over.
The level places in his sermons are rather heavy, and, at times,
uninteresting. It is only when the thermometer is rising that you
enjoy him, and only when he reaches the climax and explodes, that
you fall back and ask for water and a fan. Taking him in the
aggregate we are of opinion that he is a good preacher; that he goes
through his ordinary duties easily and complacently. He gets well
paid for what be does--last year his salary exceeded 340 pounds; and
our advice to him is--keep on good terms with the bulk of "the
brethren," hammer as much piety into them as possible, tickle the
deacons into a genial humour, and look regularly after the pew-
rents.
No. IV.