Wesleyan Methodism first breathed and opened its eyes in or about
the year 1729. It was nursed in its infancy at Oxford by two rare
brothers and a few students; was christened at the same place by a
keenly-observing, slightly-satirical collegian; developed itself
gradually through the country; took charge of the neglected masses
and gave them a new life; and today it is one of the great religious
forces of the world. The first Wesleyan chapel in Preston was built
in the year 1787, and its situation was in that consecrated and
highly aromatic region of the town called Back-lane. There was
nothing very prepossessing or polished, nothing particularly
fashionable or attractive about the profession of Methodism in those
days. It was rather an indication of honest fanaticism than of
deliberate reasoning--rather a sign of being solemnly "on the
rampage" than of giving way to careful conviction--and more
symptomatic of a sharp virtuous rant, got up in a crack and to be
played out in five minutes, than of a judicious move in the
direction of permanent good. The orthodox looked down with a genteel
contempt upon the preachers whose religion had converted Kingswood
colliers, and turned Cornwall wreckers into honest men; and the
formally pious spoke of the worshippers at this new shrine of faith
with a serene sneer, and classed them as a parcel of fiercely
ejaculating, hymn-singing nonentities. But there was vitality at the
core of their creed, and its fuller triumphs were but a question of
time. In 1817, Methodism became dissatisfied with its Back-lane
quarters, and migrated into a lighter, healthier, and cleaner
portion of the town--Lune-street--where a building was erected for
its special convenience and edification. It was not a very elegant
structure: it was, in fact, a plain, phlegmatic aggregation of
brick and mortar, calculated to charm no body externally, and
evidently patronised for absolute internal rapture.
In 1861 the chapel was rebuilt--enlarged, beautified, and made fine,
so as to harmonise with the laws of modern fashion, and afford easy
sitting room for the large and increasing congregation attending it.
The frontispiece is of a costly character; but it has really been
"born to blush unseen." It is so tightly wedged in between other
buildings, is so evenly crammed into companionship with the ordinary
masonry of the street, that the general effect of the tall arch and
spacious porch is lost. Nothing can be distinctly seen at even a
moderate distance. You have to get to the place before you become
clearly aware of its existence; and if you wish to know anything of
its appearance, you have either to turn the head violently off its
regular axis, or cross the street and ask somebody for a step
ladder. The facade of the building is not very prepossessing; the
large arch, which has given way at some of the joints considerably,
and has been doing its best to fall for about six years, does not
look well--it is too high and too big for the place; the stonework
within is also hid; and the whitewashed ceiling above ought to be
either cleaned or made properly black. At present it is neither
light nor dark, and is rather awkwardly relieved at intervals with
cobwebs. There is something humorous and incongruous in the physical
associations of this chapel. It is flanked with a doctor's shop and
a money-lending establishment; with a savings bank and a solicitor's
office. The bank nestles very complacently under its lower wing, and
in the ratio of its size is a much better looking building. The text
regarding the deposit of treasure in that place where neither moth
nor rust operate may be well worked in the chapel; but it is rather
at a discount in the immediate neighbourhood.
A great work in the business of spreading Wesleyan Methodism has
been done by the people and parsons of Lune-street chapel. We know
of no place in the town whose religious influence has been more
actively radiated. Its power, a few years ago, spread into the
northern part of the town, and the result was a new chapel with
excellent schools there; it then moved eastward, and the consequence
was a school chapel in St. Mary-street. In Croft-street, Canal-
street, and on the Marsh, it has also outposts, whose officers are
fighting the good fight with lung, and head, and heart, in a
sprightly and vigorous fashion. Originally, what is termed the
"circuit" of Lune-street embraced places 18 or 20 miles from
Preston; but the area of the sacred circumbendibus was subsequently
reduced; and its servants now find that they have as much on hand as
they can fairly get through by looking after half of the town and a
few of the contiguous villages. There are none of those solemn
milkmen called deacons in connection with Wesleyanism; still, there
are plenty of medicine men, up; up the ears in grace and business,
belonging it. At Lune-street Chapel, as at all similar places, there
are class-leaders, circuit stewards, chapel stewards, and smaller
divinities, who find a niche in the general pantheon of duty. The
cynosure of the inner circle is personal piety, combined with a
"penny a week and a shilling a quarter." All members who can pay
this have to do so.
Beneath the chapel there is a Sunday school, which operates as a
feeder. When the scholars--there are 500 or 600 of them altogether--
show certain symptoms of inherent rectitude and facial exactness,
when they answer particular questions correctly and pass through the
crucial stages of probation consistently, they are drafted into "the
church," and presented with licences of perennial happiness if they
choose to exercise them. The school is well supervised, and if some
of the teachers are as useful and consoling at home as they are in
their classes their general relatives will be blissful.
The congregation of Lune-street Chapel is moderately numerous; but
it has been materially thinned at intervals by the establishment of
other Wesleyan chapels. In its circuit there are now between 800 and
900 persons known as members, who are going on their way rejoicing;
at the chapel itself there are between 300 and 400 individuals
similarly situated. Viewed in the aggregate, the congregation is of
a middle class character both in regard to the colour of the hair
and the clothes worn. There are some exceedingly poor people at the
place, but the mass appear to be individuals not particularly
hampered in making provision for their general meals. Lune-street
chapel is the fashionable Wesleyan tabernacle of Preston; the better
end of those whose minds have been touched, through either tradition
or actual conviction, with the beauties of Methodism, frequent it.
There is more silk than winsey, more cloth than hodden grey, and a
good deal more false hair and artificial teeth in the building on a
Sunday than can be found by fair searching at any other Wesleyan
chapel in the town. A sincere desire to "flee from the wrath to come
and be saved from their sins"--the only condition which John Wesley
insisted upon for admission into his societies--does not prevent
some of the members from attending determinedly to the bedizenments,
conceits, and spangles of this very wicked speck in the planetary
system.
In the congregation there are many most excellent, hardworking,
thoroughly sincere men and women, who would be both useful and
ornamental to any body of Christians under the sun; but there are in
addition, as there are in every building set apart for the purposes
of piety, several who have "more frill than shirt," and much "more
cry than wool" about them--rectified, beautifully self-righteous,
children who would "sugar over" a very ugly personage ten hours out
of the twelve every day, and then at night thank the Lord for all
his mercies. In Lune-street Chapel faction used to run high and
wilfulness was a gem which many of the members wore very near their
hearts; but much of the old feudal spirit of party fighting has died
out, and there are signs of pious resignation and loving kindness in
the flock, which would at one time have been rare jewels. A somewhat
lofty isolation is still manifested here and there; a few regular
attenders appear heavily oppressed with the idea that they are not
only as good as anybody else but much better. Still this is only
human nature and no process of convertibility to the most celestial
of substances can in this world entirely subdue it. The bruising
deacon who said that grace was a good thing, but that that knocking
down an impertinent member was a better didn't miss the bull's eye
of natural philosophy very far. The observation was not redolent of
much Christian spirit; but it evinced that which many of the saints
are troubled with--human nature.
Lune-street chapel contains standing, sitting, and sleeping room,
for about 1,400 people. The bulk who attend it take fair advantage
of the accomodation afforded for the first and second positions; a
moderate number avail themselves of the privileges held out for the
whole three postures. The chapel is not often crowded; it is
moderately filled as a rule; and there is no particular numeric
difference in the attendance at either morning or evening service on
a Sunday. The singing is neither loftily classic nor contemptibly
common-place. It is good, medium, well modulated melody, heartily
got up; and thoroughly congregational. In some places of worship it
is considered somewhat vulgar for members of the congregation to
give specimens of their vocalisation; and you can only find in out-
of-the-way side and back pews odd persons warbling a mild falsetto,
or piping an eccentric tenor, or doing a heavy bass on their own
responsibility; but at Lune-street Chapel the general members of the
congregation go into the work with a distinct determination to
either sing or make a righteous noise worthy of the occasion. They
are neither afraid nor ashamed of the job; and we hope they draw
consolation from it. The more genteel worshippers take up their
quarters mainly on the ground floor--at the back of the central
seats and at the sides. The poor have resting places found for them
immediately in front of the pulpit and at the rear of the galleries.
Very little of that unctuous spasmodic shouting, which used to
characterise Wesleyanism, is heard in Lune-street Chapel. It has
become unfashionable to bellow; it is not considered "the thing" to
ride the high horse of vehement approval and burst into luminous
showers of "Amens" and "Halleleujahs." Now and then a few
worshippers of the ancient type drop in from some country place, and
explode at intervals during the course of some impulsive prayer, or
gleeful hymn, or highly enamelled sermon. You may occasionally at
such a time, hear two or three in distant pews having a delightful
time of it. At first they only stir gently, as if some on were
mildly pinching or tickling them. Gradually they become more
audible, and as the fire of their zeal warms up, and the eloquence
of the minister enflames, they get keener, fiercer, more rapturous;
the intervals of repose are shorter, the moments of ecstacy are more
rapid and fervent; and this goes on with gathering desperation,
until the speaker reaches his--climax, and stops to either breathe
or use his handkerchief. But hardy a scintilla of this is perceived
on ordinary occasions; indeed it has become so unpopular that an
exhibition of it seems to quietly amuse--to evoke mild smiles and
dubious glances--rather than meet with reciprocity of approval. It
must be some great man in the region of Wesleyanism; some grand,
tearing, pathetic, eloquent preacher who can stir to a point of
moderate audibility the voices of the multitude of worshippers. In
Lune-street Chapel, the Ten Commandments occupy a prominent
position, and that is a good thing. It would be well if they were
fastened up in every place of worship, and better still if the
parsons referred to them more frequently.
Respecting the ministers of the chapel in question, we way say that
there are three. None of them can stay less than one, nor more than
three, years. It is a question of "Hey, presto--quick change," every
third year. The names of the triumvirate at Lune-street are, the
Rev. W. Mearns, M.A., who is the superintendent; the Rev. W. H.
Tindall, second in command; and the Rev. F. B. Swift, the general
clerical servant of all work. Mr. Mearns is a calm, rather bilious-
looking, elderly man. There is nothing bewitching in his appearance;
he looks like what he is--a quietly-disposed, evenly-tempered,
Methodist minister. He is neither fussy, nor conceited, nor fond of
brandishing the sword of superiority. He goes about his work
steadily, and is as patient in harness as out of it. He has northern
blood in his veins which checks impulsiveness and everything
approaching that solemn ferocity sometimes displayed in Methodist
pulpits. There is nothing oratorical in his style of delivery; it is
calm, slow, and has a rather soporific influence upon his hearers.
There is more practical than argumentative matter in his sermons;
but, in the aggregate, they are hard and dry--lack lustre and
passion; and this, combined with his stoical manner of delivery, has
a chilling, rather than an attractive, influence. He always speaks
in harmony with the rules of grammar. His sentences, although
uttered extemporaneously, are invariably well finished and
scholarly. His words are well chosen; they are fit in with
cultivated exactitude and polished precision. They will stand
reading; nay, they will read excellently--infinitely better than the
burning rhapsody of more phrensied and eloquent men; but they fall
with a long-drawn dulness upon the ear when first uttered, and
don't, as Sam Slick would say, "get up one's steam anyhow." Mr.
Mearns has a clear head and a good heart, but his spoken words want
power and immediate brightness, and his style is deadened for the
want of a little enthusiasm.
The Rev. Mr. Tindall comes up in a more polished, energetic, and
fashionable garb. He is eloquent, argumentative, polemical. His
literary capacity is good, and it has been well trained. He has read
much and studied keenly. His sermons are well thought out; he has
copious notes of them; and when he enters the pulpit they are made
complete for action--are fully equipped in their Sunday clothes and
ready for duty. His delivery is good; but physical weakness deprives
it of potency; and his contempt of the clock before him renders
people now and then uneasy. His manner is refined; his matter is
select; but there is something in both at times which you don't
altogether believe in digesting. A rather haughty, dictatorial ring
is sometimes noticed in them. A large notion of the importance of
the preacher occasionally peeps up. He has a perfect right to
venerate Mr. Tindall, and if he is a little fashionable, what of
that?--isn't it fashionable to be fashionable? Only this may be
carried a little too far, even in men for whom pulpits are made and
circuits formed, and it is not always safe to let organ "15" in
phrenological charts get the upper hand. After all we admire Mr.
Tindall's erudition and eloquence. He is free from vulgarity, and in
general style miles ahead of many preachers in the same body, whose
great mission is to maltreat pulpits and turn religion into a
rhapsody of words.
The well-meaning and plodding Mr. Smith succeeds. He is a hard
worker; but there does not appear to be over much in him at present.
More thinking, and a greater experience of life, may cause him to
germinate agreeably in a few years. His style is stereotyped and
copied; there is a lack of original force in him; when he talks you
know what's coming next--you can tell five minutes off what he is
going to say, and that rather spoils the sensation of newness and
surprise which one likes to experience when parsons are either
pleasing or terrifying sinners. But Mr. Swift does his best, and,
according to Ebenezer Elliot, he does well who does that. It would
be wrong to deal harshly with a new beginner, and therefore we have
decided to check our criticism--to be brief--with Mr. Swift and
express a hope that in time he will be president of the Conference.
No. V.