THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.
The peculiarity of the Church of England, that by which it is
distinguished from orthodox Dissent, is the priestly character of its
claims, and its intolerance of other sects.
The "Tracts for the Times" tell us "that the Bishop is Christ's
representative, and the priests the Bishop's, so that despising the
clergy is despising Christ." "A person not commissioned may pretend to
give the Lord's Supper, but it can afford no comfort to any one to
receive it at his hands; and as for the person who takes it on himself
without a warrant to minister in holy things, he is all the while
treading in the steps of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram. It is only having
received this commission that can give any security that the ministration
of the Word and the Sacraments shall be effectual to the saving of your
souls. The Dissenters have it not."
The Dean of Chichester writes--"Our ordinations descend in a direct
unbroken line from Peter and Paul. Unless Christ be spiritually present
with the ministers of religion in their services, those services must be
vain. But the only ministration to which He has promised his presence
are those of the Bishops, who are successors of the first commissioned
Apostles, and the other clergy acting under their sanction and
authority."
The Bishop of Winchester says--"We believe that we do possess, as we
cannot see that others do, Christ's direct commission for our ministry,
and a certainty and fulness, therefore, of His presence and of His
Sacramental working, which, to say the least, may be lacking elsewhere.
If we do not hold as much as this we must dissent from the plain language
of our own Ordination Service." The Bishop also denies that it is a
superstitious theory that "the clergy can convey to the soul by a
material intervention some spiritual influence in an occult manner."
The Rev. E. Blenkinson, in the "Church and the World," a book presented
to Convocation by the Bishop of Oxford, says the Protestant bodies have
"cut themselves off from the participation of the one Spirit as living in
the Church and flowing through the Sacraments, which are the veins and
arteries of the body." The last utterance on the subject is that of the
Bishop of Ely, who places the first and undisputed General Councils as of
equal authority with Scripture. The Catechism teaches Baptismal
Regeneration. The clergy also tell us that they are called by the Holy
Ghost, that the Bishop has conferred on them spiritual graces by the
laying on of hands. This is the theory of the Church of England. In
accordance with this in time past, it drove out the Evangelicals on
Bartholomew Day, and has at any rate till our time prosecuted Broad
Churchmen for heresy.
The bitterest opponents of this theory are the Evangelicals. It is a
singular and noteworthy fact, that the theology dearest to the hearts of
the people is that which teaches in the plainest manner the literal
inspiration of the Bible, the doctrine of Original Sin, of
Predestination, of everlasting damnation, of a Devil ever thwarting the
designs of a benevolent Deity, and seeking whom he may devour. Yet the
character given by Dr. Arnold of the Evangelical clergy is still true,
and accounts for the little influence they have in educated circles.
Another fact also becomes increasingly prominent: their readiness to
swallow their words, to quietly accept whatever may be offered them by
their opponents apparently merely for the sake of position in society.
Every now and then a crisis occurs in the history of the Church. If
Baptismal Regeneration, for instance, be ruled to be permissible they
must leave, and then when the time comes for them to arise and become
martyrs, they quietly pocket their principles and remain. Of course they
plead their greater opportunities of usefulness, as if religion were
better served by dishonesty than by honesty,--as if the cause of God were
better advanced by falsehood than by truth,--as if position as regards
society were of more importance than the man's consciousness of
independence and honourable life. For the ritualist or the Broad
Churchman it is no difficult matter to remain in the church in company
with the Evangelical; but they, in accordance with his theory, are
teaching soul-destroying errors; yet he remains with them, and is,
according to his idea, a partaker in their sins.
The characteristic of our day is the Broad Churchmanship, which rejects
the common theology as a prejudice well fitted for certain times, but
unworthy of credence now. Of this party are the ablest men in the
Church; all who are disgusted with the childishness of ritualism--with
the narrowness of orthodox formulas, turn to them, and hail them as the
regenerators of Church and State. Such men as Dean Stanley and Mr.
Maurice are a power in the land. They walk hand in hand with the poets
and men of science of our time. In their teaching is gathered together
much that is best and truest in the wisdom of the past. The difficulty
of their position is that they are tied down as strongly as they can be
to orthodoxy, and half their strength is wasted in the effort to show
they have a right to be where they are. Nevertheless it is quite true
that there can be no honest faith without honest doubt; that we fight our
fears and gather strength; that as we know more, we feel how outworn is
the old creed of Christendom. Sir J. D. Coleridge tells us the Articles
are Articles of peace--that is, for the sake of uniformity a minister may
make statements which he cannot believe. But a man who cannot trifle
with words is denied all this liberty; he is tied hand and foot. The
State gives him moral prestige, supremacy, wealth, on certain conditions.
The Dissenter is free; the wildest ranter has a liberty which an
Archbishop may sigh for in vain. Such is the law. A State Church such
as is desired by Broad Churchmen is an impossibility. And yet in spite
of the rival and differing parties in the Church, and in spite of the
fact that Churchmen themselves are longing to be free of the fetters of
the State, I know not that the Church of England, as regards London, was
ever stronger than now. The layman has little sympathy with Church
squabbles: he goes to church feeling that in doing so he is not committed
to any form of belief or worship. Dissent requires some sort of faith as
preliminary to fellowship. In the Church you avoid all this: the
Puseyism of the pulpit seldom extends to the pew. Then, again, there is
a natural yearning in all minds after national union in religious as well
as political matters. The higher class of Dissenters display this
feeling in an extraordinary degree. Their chapels are built like
churches--they cling to the steeple which the stern old Puritans
considered an abomination--the meeting-house has ceased to exist. Day by
day Dissent gets rid of all its characteristics--its ministers assume a
clerical appearance--they adopt the Prayer-book as their model--they now
listen to read sermons and read prayers. Of late years their leaders
have grown rich and respectable, and anxiously disclaim all connexion
with the loud and exciting form of worship that has attractions for the
ignorant. You may safely assume that the teaching of modern Dissent is
indirectly in favour of the Establishment. Dissenters tell us they have
modified their customs in order to retain their hold upon the young of
the wealthy classes. But they cannot be retained by means like these.
It has almost become a proverb, that in the third generation they will
pass through the chapel to the church. Half the great mercantile houses
of London and the empire were founded by Dissenters whose sons, as they
have grown rich and cultivated, feel more and more the awkward isolation
of Dissent. Increasingly this feeling is spreading among Dissenters, and
the Church, if it were wise--its history is a career of blunder upon
blunder--would have laid its plans to recover such. All the levers of
society have been at its disposal. The Establishment rolls in wealth;
there is no other Church in the world so wealthy; the aristocracy are
bound to support it. Literally, there is in our land no career for a
Dissenter. Dissent is a stigma in society. Even men who have no
religious predilections would scorn the name of Dissenter. The schools,
the universities--all have wealth and honour for those who will conform;
and for those who conscientiously refuse to do so--exclusion and
disgrace.
In London, within twelve miles of the Post-office, there are some seven
hundred churches and chapels connected with the Church, and about treble
that number of officiating clergy. At St. Paul's it is estimated that on
special occasions as many as 7000 or 8000 persons take part in the
services. For the special evangelization of the metropolis there is what
is called the Bishop of London's Fund. In the summer of last year the
Bishop of London stated that towards the sum proposed to be raised for
that purpose, 360,000_l._ had been subscribed. By means of that
subscription 200 clergymen have been added to the diocese, and
contributions made to the erection of 69 new churches and of 20
parsonages. Sites also had been secured for 33 more churches, 27
schools, 15 parsonages, and 4 mission stations. 15,000_l._ had been
expended for educational purposes; upwards of 9000_l._ for 53 Scripture
readers; about 2000_l._ for 27 parochial mission women, and 2670_l._
towards the rent and expenses of mission rooms. It says something for
the Church that it has thus raised funds for such purposes. When Bishop
Blomfield appealed for 10 new churches for Bethnal Green, and raised
sufficient money both to build and to a great extent endow them, it was
feared that he had called forth such an expression of Christian
liberality as would exhaust the resources of wealthy Church people in the
great metropolis for many years to come. Since that time it is estimated
that 1,700,000_l._ have been expended in London on churches and
endowments. I am not aware that any other religious sect can say as
much. The _Times_ estimated that there are as many as 85 clerical
charities in London.
In the City of London the Church does not seem to thrive. The _Church
Times_ published a kind of census of fourteen of the City churches drawn
up after personal inspection during service time not long ago. It gives
the value of the benefice, and the number of persons actually present
when the correspondent entered the church.
Annual Value. No. Present.
(pounds)
St. Bartholomew the Great, 680 40
Smithfield
St. Anne and Agnes, St. 626 25
Anne's Lane
St. Michael le Querne, 300 closed
Foster Lane
St. Mary Magdalene, Old 230 18
Fish Street
St. Nicholas Cole Abbey 270 closed
St. Bennet's, Paul's Wharf 254 6
St. Nicholas Queenhithe, 260 11
Thames Street
Allhallows, Bread Street 382 3
St. Martin Pomray, Old 410 1
Jewry
St. Margaret, Bread Street 287 3
St. Peter le Poor, Old 1725 20
Broad Street
St. Martin Outwich, 1100 6
Bishopsgate Street
St. James, Mitre Square 300 20
Allhallows with St. 650 9
Bennet, Lombard Street
7074 162
In the City there are 105 churches, parochial and district, and in the
City the superiority of the Church over Dissent is manifest. The Jews,
the Greeks, the Roman Catholics, the Wesleyans, the Baptists, the
Congregationalists, the Presbyterians altogether have but twenty-six
chapels in the City.
From the beginning of the long reign of George III. to its close--that is
from 1760 to 1820--there were not six new churches erected in the
metropolis.
When the Great Fire had devoured the eighty-nine parish churches of
London, Sir Christopher Wren superintended the building of fifty-three at
the same time that he was building St. Paul's. Various Acts were passed
in the reign of Queen Anne and George I. to increase church accommodation
in London, and Commissioners were appointed to apply the coal duties from
the year 1716 to the year 1724, to the building of fifty-two new
churches. Much of the money was misappropriated and only eleven were
built, and a subsequent fund of 360,000_l._ was granted, to be paid in
instalments of 21,000_l._ a year. In 1818, Parliament was prevailed on
to vote a million and a half for building churches throughout the country
as a thank-offering for the termination of the war; and in the same year
the Incorporated Church Building Society was founded, to build, enlarge,
and repair churches; of which many, such as those in Bethnal Green,
Hackney, St. Pancras, Battersea, were in London. Daniel Wilson, Bishop
of Calcutta, persuaded the vestry of Islington to vote 12,000_l._ for
church building. In 1836 Bishop Blomfield inaugurated the Metropolis
Churches Fund, to which he himself gave up sinecure patronage at St.
Paul's to the extent of 10,000_l._ a year. Sixty-eight churches were
built by this fund at the cost of 136,787_l._, before it was merged, in
1854, in the Diocesan Church Building Society. During the twenty-eight
years of his episcopate, Bishop Blomfield consecrated 108 churches in
London. The whole number of churches ten years ago, writes Mr. Bosanquet
in 1868, was only 498. Now Churchmen aim at absorbing the entire
metropolis. "But in order to secure for every 2000 of our population one
clergyman," said the present Archbishop of Canterbury in 1867, "we shall
need twice as many additional clergymen as we have yet, with a
proportionate number of schools." And here as elsewhere it seems to be
true that supply creates demand. As soon as a church is opened it is
well filled.
The Bishop of Winchester's Fund, also known as the South London Church
Extension Fund, is a similar effort to supply the spiritual need of that
part of London which belongs to the diocese of Winchester.
THE DEAF AND DUMB AT CHURCH.
In London there are two thousand persons born deaf and dumb. To the
sweet music of speech, whether in the way of conversation or lecture,
grave or gay, or song however sacred and Divine, they are insensible. It
follows almost as a natural consequence that they are mute, that from
their lips can never come the thoughts that breathe and words that burn.
It is almost impossible for us to measure adequately the greatness of
their loss or the depth of their desolation. How in some degree to make
it up to them, to raise them in the scale of being, to teach them to
think, and feel, and learn, and to enable them to communicate to others
the results, is certainly not one of the least praiseworthy of the many
praiseworthy Christian efforts of our day. With this view two courses of
action have been followed. A Jewish school has been established at 44,
Burton Crescent, where the system of teaching by articulation and
lip-reading is pursued. For some time a similar system has been in
successful operation in Rotterdam. As to the merits of the system a warm
dispute has been for a considerable time in progress in America. Its
advocates tell us that when these results shall have been made known, and
the attention of the philanthropist and man of science shall have been
directed to them, the days of the old system of dactylology, or
communication by the aid of fingers, will be numbered. They ask,
triumphantly, What parents will be content that their children shall
continue to communicate their thoughts and wishes by the aid of signs,
when it can be proved to a demonstration that 999 deaf mutes out of every
1000 possess the faculty of speech, and that such faculty can be
successfully utilised? Mr. Isaac tells us, that at Burton Crescent,
after only eighteen months' instruction, a deaf child who had never
previously uttered a clear sound, recited a verse of the National Anthem
in a way that brought tears into the eyes of many hearers. The questions
are put by the teacher in audible language; and the deaf mute, by aid of
lip-reading--another marvel of the system in which the eye does duty for
the ear--comprehends every question, and gives answers audibly and
distinctly. The Association in aid of the Deaf and Dumb, of which the
Rev. Samuel Smith is the able and indefatigable secretary, are, however,
doubtful of the new system--and certainly lip-reading seems liable to
give facilities for great misapprehension as to the speaker's
meaning--and prefer to continue the system which the society was
organized in 1840 to teach, and under which it has worked more or less
successfully ever since. Under this system has sprung up a deaf and dumb
church-going public. On Sundays there are five or six places opened for
such in London; on Tuesday evenings there are two, the principal one
being held in the fine old church of St. Lawrence Jewry, near the
Guildhall--one of Sir Christopher Wren's churches--in which are monuments
to Wilkins, the learned Bishop of Chester, and Archbishop Tillotson,
whose lot was no peaceful one, and of whom it is worthy of remark that in
the language of Jortin he broke through an ancient and fundamental rule
of controversial theology, "Allow not an adversary either to have common
sense or common honesty." Poor Tillotson, you see, never got over the
disadvantages of Dissenting training.
But to return to the deaf and dumb. Inside this handsome church you will
find any Tuesday evening about eight o'clock, some fifty or sixty of them
sitting near the reading desk. Most of them are men and women in a
humble position in life, engaged in various callings in the
neighbourhood, more, however, in the east than the west. The desire to
profit by such services seems on the increase. They have, for instance,
at St. Lawrence, double the number they had, and the same may be said
with regard to the services conducted morning and evening at the
Polytechnic Institution. Nor are these services held in vain. Every
year some are prepared for confirmation, and special celebrations of the
Holy Communion are held for their benefit. To the ordinary attendants,
including even such as have little need of an interpreter to explain the
subject or to help them to follow the services in church, the committee
report, "these services and lectures are profitable." "I have felt it a
great privilege to attend the services," said one, "which have been a
great comfort and benefit to me, and I hope I shall remember what I have
heard" (it is to be presumed, by "heard," the writer means what he saw:
his language is conventional). "After I left school I felt so lost I
could not hear what was said in churches, and now I am very happy in
attending them." In another way, also, the religious condition of these
afflicted ones is kept in view. The Society employs missionaries engaged
in house-to-house visitation. By these missionary agents, acting in
concert with the parochial clergy, a personal acquaintance is maintained
with the deaf and dumb scattered over London, and a most marked
improvement in their character, conduct, and intelligence is the result
of the supervision exercised. The society is also engaged in promoting
the erection of a church for the deaf and dumb. For this purpose 550_l._
have already been subscribed. In the Old Kent Road there is a Deaf and
Dumb Asylum, and in other parts of the metropolis there are societies for
their special benefit. Of course no mere outsider can give an account of
a service with the deaf and dumb. It is easy to realize songs without
words, but not so easy to realize public prayer and preaching in which no
audible sound is heard, in which the service is conducted as it were by
pantomime. As much as possible the rubric is observed, the deaf and dumb
obey the instructions of the Prayer-book, and stand where standing is
prescribed, and "sign" the response to the Lord's Prayer, Creed,
Confession, &c. As to the sermon, all that can be said is that it comes
up to the Demosthenic standard for eloquence--action, action, action.
Among the deaf and dumb the best preacher must be the best actor. Not
merely are the fingers in constant requisition, but every part of the
preacher's face, as much as possible, is speaking all the time, either in
the way of exhortation or entreaty. Great use, as we may imagine, is
also made of the arms, and the body sways backward and forward as if to
lend expression to such ideas as it may be the design of the teacher to
convey. The great aim of these services is educational. They are
intended to afford such an insight into the meaning and use of the Book
of Prayer, that the deaf and dumb may be enabled to join intelligently in
the public worship of the Church of England, and undoubtedly it is
desirable that the terrible sense of isolation so natural under the
circumstances should be got rid of, that the deaf and dumb should feel
that they are part and parcel of the universal Church. Nevertheless
there must be a deaf and dumb pulpit from which may flow the ever
fructifying stream of Christian truth--a pulpit which the deaf and dumb
may feel exists especially for them. Of this pulpit at present the Rev.
Samuel Smith is the most distinguished orator, and as you watch him,
though you cannot understand him, you cannot but wonder at his marvellous
skill. Evidently his heart is in his work; equally evident is it that he
has to complain of no wandering eyes. Every hearer is intent, many seem
really devout and find the privilege one not lightly to be esteemed. The
deep strain of the organ is not there, you miss the song of praise, you
hear no penitential chant. From no living tongue falls the sweet promise
of salvation and eternal life, from those sealed and silent lips escapes
no audible prayer. Yet we know that
"God reveals Himself in many ways,"
and that He may be met with even among the deaf and dumb.
A SUNDAY IN JAIL.
Most travellers by the Great Northern Railway must have been struck with
a feudal castle apparently, just what you might expect to see on the
Rhine, but certainly not such a building as you would look for in the
immediate vicinity of the Cattle Market and of Mr. Mark Wilks's
overflowing congregation. As you approach it, all around you are genteel
villas and desirable residences; the neighbourhood has an air of comfort
and respectability; the inhabitants seem substantial and well to do--in
short, to belong to the upper strata of that middle class which in our
land, at any rate since the last of the Barons fell on Barnet Common, has
been a powerful influence for good in England and all over the world.
You would scarce fancy that feudal castle, with its "jutty, frieze, and
coigne of vantage," was a jail, or that inside it there were shut up
between three and four hundred rogues and vagabonds, old and young, male
and female, who have outraged the laws of their country, and have been
sent there, if possible, to receive punishment for their offences, and to
learn to do better for the future. Yet such in reality is the case. You
are standing outside the City House of Correction, which was built some
few years ago at a cost of 100,000_l._ Into this place it is rare for
good characters to obtain an admission. They may knock at the door, but
it will not be opened unless they are furnished with an order from the
Secretary of State, or one of the visiting magistrates, who are aldermen
of London city.
In this necessarily short paper it is not our intention to describe the
general arrangements of a place which we fear to too many of its inmates
can have but few terrors. There are homes outside of filth, and want,
and degradation; where, morning, noon, and night all that is decent, that
is tender, or true, or pure is crushed out of man, woman, and child;
where you can scarce believe man was made in the image of his Maker, that
he is a little lower than the angels; where you feel that rather than
have company with such you would associate with the beasts of the field,
or dwell in some lonely isle "far off amid the melancholy main." To
such, such a place as Holloway, with its cleanliness, and fresh air, and
wholesome food, educational advantages, and considerate attendance, must
be simply--in spite of its drawbacks of the treadmill, &c.--a millennium;
and the question arises whether we have hit on the most effectual mode of
making the dread of jail an incentive to the criminal class to keep out.
Another question also suggests itself: Is it right thus to tenderly treat
dishonesty, when honest poverty in our midst undoubtedly fares so bad?
Here, however, that subject cannot be discussed, neither can we touch on
that other question, at this time strongly agitating the aldermanic mind,
as to the propriety of allowing prisoners to have a religion of their
own, and to be attended by their own religious ministers--a question the
majority of the court evidently think absurd, for, as Alderman Cotton
observed--and our readers must remember Alderman Cotton aspired to the
honour of a seat in Parliament,--"if every dissenting sect were to apply
for facilities for the celebration of their religious services, what
would become of them? They should have to give the Baptists a pool to
bathe in, the Mormons a harem, and the Shakers a circle in which they
might make their dance." Of course, then, when I write of a Sunday in
Holloway jail, I write of a Sunday where the services--there are two,
morning and afternoon--are Protestant, and Protestant according to the
Church of England. As the worthy chaplain, the Rev. Mr. Owen, is now
about to preach, let us accompany him. We follow him up a flight of
stairs, and are at church and in jail. To most of us it is to be hoped
the sensation is a novel one.
In a small gallery, under which is the clerk and in the middle of which
is the pulpit, we take our seat. The chaplain, of course, is seen by
all. A red curtain, which we are requested not to remove, hides us from
the congregation. However, we can see them nevertheless. On the right
of the preacher, partitioned off so as to be seen by none but himself,
are the women prisoners; on his left, in another recess, are the boys,
little lads for whose offences against society others and older ones are
certainly more responsible than themselves. Before us, in rows gradually
ascending, are ranged the male adults--pale, melancholy-looking men, who
form the principal portion of this sad community. While they are seating
themselves let us note the cheerful, neat appearance of the place. Not a
speck of dirt is anywhere visible. You might, to use a common but
expressive form of speech, eat your dinner off the floor. The wooden
ceiling is very light and airy; the windows are plain and plentiful; the
walls are bare, but of snowy whiteness. Underneath is the
communion-table, and once a quarter such as the chaplain considers truly
penitent are permitted to partake of it. Some dozen officials, in
uniform, on raised seats, are ranged in different parts of the chapel,
and when all have taken their places the service is commenced by singing,
in which generally the wife of the chaplain--a lady not unknown in the
literary world--assists by instrumental performance. This part of the
service is especially remarkable. The prisoners are fond of singing.
There is weekly a class for this purpose, and they enter into it with all
their heart and soul. Of course the tunes are very simple and
old-fashioned, such as we used to hear, but they are sung with a fervour
of which few outsiders can have an idea. One could not help thinking of
Longfellow's lines:
"Loud he sang the Psalms of David,
He a negro and enslaved."
The book used is the collection of Psalms and Hymns issued by the
Religious Tract Society, and those selected are chiefly of a penitential
and consolatory character. The soothing influence of this part of the
service is, according to the experience of the chaplain, very great
indeed. It was also very evident that the men took great pleasure in the
responses, and one could not but hope that it was not all assumed; that
when they confessed themselves "miserable sinners," that when they
exclaimed, "We have followed too much the desires and devices of our own
hearts," or that when after the chaplain read each one of the
Commandments they prayed, "Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our
hearts to keep this law"--that to some, at any rate, these words were
full of meaning, and did represent actual workings of the mind. In
chanting also they join, and the way in which they find out the proper
places in the Prayer-book, or in which they turn up the portions of
Scripture read, or find out the text, or repeat the Creed, is a model to
others, and gives an illustration of the existence of a very desirable
influence which the men appear to be under. It must be remembered that
they are there by themselves, that no external eyes are on them, that to
many of them the service is an unaccustomed novelty, and that to those to
whom it is not it affords a welcome relief after the monotony of the
week. Be this as it may, nowhere in London or the country, at home or
abroad, have I seen a quieter or better-behaved congregation. If you did
not see the prison garb, and the number on the arm, and the little brass
plate on the breast, you might fancy you were in the midst of an earnest
Christian people, who for purposes of their own excluded women, and
babies, and old men. The chaplain's sermon generally occupies from
fifteen to twenty minutes, and is of a character adapted to his audience;
yet I must confess the attention paid to it was not equal to that which
was shown in the more active parts of the service. The pulpit has yet to
learn to be plain and practical; and chaplains, it is to be feared, with
very remarkable exceptions, are inclined to be conventional. Still, the
preacher did his best, was kind and simple, and when he speaks of such
topics as godly sorrow for sin, and of turning away from it to God, or of
the many ways in which men fall from rectitude, many evidently,
especially of the younger ones, seem desirous to understand and realize
it, and to lay hold of something spiritually soothing and appropriate.
In many faces was to be seen an expression of great earnestness, forming
a contrast to the unconcerned look of the indifferent. As the chaplain
visits them all the week, and reads prayers to them every day, his
influence must of course, whether in the pulpit or out, be great. Be
this as it may, to many it is manifest that to them has arisen unmixed
advantage from spending a Sunday in jail.
HIGH CHURCH REVIVALISTS.
What is a mission? In a book of the mission edited by the Society of St.
John the Evangelist, at Cowley, Oxford, I read--1. It is a special call
from God. "Jonah preached a mission to Nineveh, and the whole city
repented and was saved. Lot preached one night to Sodom, but they would
not hearken, and were destroyed by fire." 2. It is a time of special
grace. The men who have devoted twelve days to a mission in London have
taken a bold and brave step in connexion with the Church of England. As
much as Sodom or Nineveh, London, with its pauperism, and vice, and
crime; with its nobles stooping to the foul companionship of the jockey
and the courtesan; with its high-born daughters rushing to see _Formosa_
at Drury Lane; with its merchant princes deeming it no disgrace to be
honest as the world goes, or as the times will allow--needs if it would
be saved from the fearful fate of Sodom, or the decline of Nineveh, that
it should be specially preached to and called on everywhere to repent.
For twelve days, then, some hundred churches have been open nearly all
day long, in addition to the Sunday services, which have been conducted
as usual. At All Saints, Margaret Street, for instance, the first
service began at a quarter to seven in the morning, and the last did not
close till past nine P.M. Church people are not partial to innovations.
It was only this week a lady was complaining to the writer that in the
parish in which she resided a week-evening service had been introduced.
As if two services on a Sunday were not quite enough. And truly, as
times go, she had reason to complain. Two such sermons as one generally
hears read in that lackadaisical, sing-song manner, which seems to be the
only thing clerical the raw curate picks up at Oxford or Cambridge, are
quite enough. If such were the preachers employed in the recent mission
(I see their number is set down at forty-eight), it must have proved a
failure. At All Saints, so far from the mission being a failure, it has
been, I should think, a success. I have always respected the Ritualistic
clergy; I have always given them credit for honestly attempting to
develope the Catholic element, of which there is a considerable leaven,
in the historical English Church; I have always felt that amongst them
rather than amongst popular evangelical preachers, whose favourite haunts
are the drawing-rooms of dowagers, or Broad Churchmen, the delight of
sceptical peers, are to be found the men most ready to take up the cross
and bear the yoke; but I had no idea they could preach, or if they did
that men of sense could listen. I have found out my mistake. I have
been one of the thousands who have listened to Mr. Body, of
Wolverhampton, and I never heard or saw within the walls of a church a
man so absorbed in his message, so carried away with its import, so
imbued with a sense of its Divine reality. I may also add that a more
awkward-looking, ill-favoured clergyman I never saw ascend the pulpit
stairs.
But these people were all Ritualists--believers in form? Well, they are;
there was an exaggeration of form, I frankly admit; there was a great
deal more crossing the forehead and the breast than we English approve
of; there was far too much of appearance of devotion. A man may worship
God in a hearty, cheerful way as well as on his knees and with elongated
jaw. The preacher himself at times assumed an air of needless imbecility
as he stood with drooping head and with hands folded, as if engaged in
secret prayer; lank and pale, and with a sickly smile upon his face, as
was the manner of mediaeval and pre-Raphaelite saints. And then of
course, like most of the services of all churches, of whatever
denomination, the harlot, and the publican, and the sinner to be called
to repentance, kept away. It is a sign of respectability to attend a
place of worship, and people who come to church in neat broughams, who
are partial to diamond studs, who wear brilliants on their fingers, are
eminently respectable; still there were poor sinners there, and the place
was full, and many were evidently deeply smitten, for the apostolic
fervour of the pulpit crept from row to row till the sinner and the
sceptic ceased to sneer, and all seemed mastered and subdued. Before the
service began half the audience seemed engaged in silent prayer, and at
the close that silent prayer was resumed.
It is difficult to describe this new burning and shining light. A
_verbatim_ report of his sermon would convey no meaning. Who cares to
read the sermons of Whitefield or Wesley? I heard him twice. In the
afternoon he gave an address on the subject of prayer. There he stood in
the pulpit, without gown or surplice, dressed in plain black cloth,
mouthing and ranting apparently in the wildest manner, just as on the
boards of the theatre they love to represent a Chadband or a Stiggins.
His dark short hair was brushed right down to his eyes. The principal
feature was his enormous mouth, over which an unripe moustache seemed
struggling into life. One moment his face was brought down to a level
with the pulpit, the next it was shot forward almost into the faces of
the occupants of the nearest seats, and the next he seemed to spring on
his toes, with each arm extended over his head, and as far apart as
possible. In the same manner the tones of his address were
proportionately varied. One moment he spoke in a whisper, the next in a
quiet, conversational manner, the next there came a thundering blast as
if he sought to arouse the dead. Was this art, or was this passion? The
former, says the sceptic. The tragedian can mouth it just as grandly, on
the stage. But as the greatest tragedians are the men who, like Kean,
felt--ay, even to their inmost core--all the agony they endeavoured to
realize and express, so I would say of Mr. Body that the intenseness with
which he realized what he said elevated him, and enabled him to embody,
as it were, the sublime of human passion. For instance, at All Saints
over the altar is a crucifix. In his evening sermon he was pleading that
as much now as ever was it our duty to confess Christ before man. It was
grand for the Crusaders to save the Holy Land from the Infidels. It was
grand the way in which St. Agnes and St. Polycarp died, in which the
early Christian martyrs lived and died. Nowadays the Church and the
world were far too friendly, and what was the result? That we tried not
how much we could do for Christ, but how most easily we could save our
souls. We sang the song of martyrs, we acted the part of cravens.
"Look," said the preacher, turning round to the crucifix, "look at the
Saviour on the Cross. Who placed him there? who made those wounds
there?--the world. And you try to be friendly with the world." So
intense was the power of the speaker that all seemed awestruck, as if
before their very eyes stood the Saviour with His wounded and bleeding
limbs. Another wonderful thing about the preacher is his common sense.
"Look here, now," said he, "here are a million of people who do not go
anywhere on a Sunday in London. Suppose each one of you now resolve to
go to the east of London and bring the people to church. Suppose you
were to be street preachers. I don't see why you should not. I don't
see why some of you laymen should not come and preach in this pulpit. Do
you want your commission? Here it is, 'Let him that heareth say Come,'
and if you did this you would accomplish more good between now and
Christmas than would be done by the Society for the Employment of
Additional Curates if they worked till Doomsday." Well, there is a
freshness, and a vigour, and a common sense about this style of remark
one does not often meet in the pulpit. And the service itself, too, was
the perfection of common sense. It began in the evening at eight. It
was over by nine. It began with a short prayer and a hymn which did not
take ten minutes, and it ended the same way. There was a service after
to which many stopped, but short as the service was I fear the speaker
had overtaxed himself. He speaks from the chest deeply, hoarsely, and
his throat gave him a good deal of trouble at the end. Sometimes in his
homely Saxon and ironical way he reminds you of George Dawson, but then
George Dawson never stirred the depths. The only man I have ever seen
equally effective was J. B. Gough, but then Gough was no orator, and
could only act one character, while Mr. Body is a master of powerful
language, and words never fail. He can read and sing also as well as he
can preach, and while I write I seem to see him as he stood giving out
the hymn after the sermon, as a general might marshal his troops--
"Onward, Christian soldiers!
Marching on to war,
With the cross of Jesus
Going on before."
A SUNDAY WITH THE LUNATICS.
One of the earliest of the Gospel stories is that which tells how the
Saviour healed the man possessed with devils. It is only of late that we
have learned to imitate His example. For hundreds of years society has
gone on torturing the mad, hardening the hardened, depraving the
depraved. We are now retracing our steps; we are atoning nobly for sins
of omission and commission on the part of our ancestors. It would do
good to some of the noisy poor who waste their time in low pot-houses
talking of their rights, when all that a man has a right to is what he
can earn, to look over such places as Hanwell and Colney Hatch, where
pauper lunatics are lodged in a palace, waited on by skilful male and
female attendants, spend their days in light and airy rooms as clean as
wax-work, have four meals a day, and every reasonable want supplied. I
have no doubt that many a careworn City man, as he has been hurried
backwards and forwards past such places by the train, has often wished
that in some such stately pile he had a niche where he could come of a
night, after the day's work was over, to breathe the fresh air, to tread
the fresh grass, and to smell the fresh flowers. I propose to gratify
this wish,--come with me, respected reader, and in the twinkling of an
eye you will find yourself in Colney Hatch.
It is on Sunday, a day when the asylum is closed to the public. Far and
near this bright sunshiny afternoon there seems resting over all a
Sabbath calm. On the neighbouring rails no trains are running; the doors
of the Station Hotel are shut; no traffic occupies the road and distracts
your attention. You gaze on fields as yet yellow with no ripening corn,
meadows as yet uncarpeted by flowers, trees as yet leafless. Farther off
on the distant ridge we see lofty mansions.
"All bright and glittering in the smokeless air."
Arrived at the gate we ring a bell; the porter opens it to us. We enter
our name in the visitors' book, and descend the gravel slope on which the
asylum is placed. All round is a wide extent of land in which the
lunatics take exercise and occasionally work. There are none outside
now, for it is the hour appointed for Divine service. The door is opened
for us by an attendant, who understands our mission. He takes us
upstairs and we find ourselves seated in a little gallery set apart for
the leading officers of the asylum. Just below us is the pulpit; on a
line with it, but a little farther off, is the reading-desk; opposite us,
at the other end of the room, is the organ. From the floor on which the
pulpit is placed there is a gradually ascending series of benches; on our
right are ranged the female, on our left the male inmates of the house.
It may be that there are some four or five hundred present. Here and
there amongst them you see their well-clad keepers. The lunatics attend
this service willingly, it is a pleasure for them to come, it is a
punishment for them to keep away. On the whole they behave very well,
and, as is often the case outside the walls of lunatic asylums, the
females greatly preponderate. From our gallery in this clean, cheerful
chapel we look down upon the group below. The sight is an unmitigatedly
sad one; we fail to see a single pleasant face. The chapel, considering
who are the audience, is almost light and cheerful. It is painful to
turn from its white walls and rafters to the crowd beneath and realize
how much darker and more cheerless is the human face when it is void of
intelligence. In this chapel you do not see the worse cases, they are
properly concealed from the spectator's eye; it is enough to know that
they are equally wisely and carefully tended with those before you. The
women are far more troublesome than the men. All are hideously ugly,
such as Fuseli might dream of after a supper of pork-chops, such as,
perhaps, that wonderful painter at Brussels, whose pictures form the
chief modern attraction of the place, could have painted in that queer
little imitation Roman ruin in which he lived and died, but such as no
living artist, at any rate in England, could portray. You feel inclined
to exclaim with Banquo--
"What are these,
So withered and so wild in their attire,
That look not like the inhabitants of earth,
And yet are on't?"
Some sit as living corpses, others with scowling eye, flesh-and-blood
pictures of despair. Others there be who have driven themselves mad with
their bad tempers and unruly tongues. You can read all that in many a
repulsive and reddened face. This one had led a gay life; what a
termination for a career of pleasure! That one has become what she is by
drinking; this one by the grand passion which underlies all human life,
past or present, all philosophy, subjective or objective, all religion,
true or false. Amongst the men you do not see so many thoroughly dead
and vacant faces; you will also see among them more diversity of action
and a greater assertion of individuality. Some look angry, some silly,
but few have that God-forsaken appearance sad to behold anywhere, but
especially on the face of what might have been possibly under happier
circumstances a tender, loving woman. But the tones of the organ
indicate that the service is commencing. Men and women are now hushed
and still; in spite of an occasional friendly word with a neighbour, whom
very probably they pity as "As mad as a March hare," males and females
come and go quietly and comfortably. Most of them have Prayer-books, and
make a proper use of them; they join in the responses with great fervour,
and repeat the Apostles' Creed, and bow at the name of Jesus quite as
decidedly and uncompromisingly as do any of the sane outside. As to the
singing, it may be briefly said that it is loud, and is all the better
and more harmonious for the organ, which, especially at the end of the
last verse, is prolonged unusually, and with a view to the drowning
sounds of an unnecessary character. Indeed, this tendency to individual
utterance is the chief danger of such a meeting as this. You can detect
notes occasionally very undeniably loud and defiant, and, as it is, one
female at the close of the sermon begins talking so loud as to require
that two female attendants should take her off as quickly as possible;
not that any one is disturbed--oh no! nothing of the kind. In a
Belgravian chapel or church such an interruption would have created a far
greater disturbance. Here no one is surprised, the preacher goes on just
the same, and not a lunatic takes the trouble to turn round and look at
the disorderly sister. Out she goes, and no one cares. With this one
exception the service was most decorous. One very plain young female
appeared to me to be too much taken up with her fruitless endeavour to
attract the eye of a very plain young person of the opposite sex, who did
not in any way seem to respond. Another also seemed to be smiling
joyfully many times, when in the sermon there was nothing to call forth
such an external manifestation. Many also seemed to hear with
intelligent attention, but as a rule the audience listened to the
preacher with that resigned and spiritless expression with which most
church-goers are but too familiar. Yet the preacher was short and
simple, and spoke of matters in which all could take an interest; and
which all could understand, of Him who hath borne our griefs, and carried
our sorrows, who was bruised for our iniquities, and with whose stripes
we are healed. It is cheering to think that even here some do not hear
of Him in vain.
LAY WORK IN THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.
Dissenters have taught Churchmen a lesson, which they are, at any rate in
our time, not slow to learn. The theory of the Church has been up to our
own day almost exclusively sacerdotal. Its parochial system is, as Canon
Champneys termed it upon one occasion, "a great allotment system," and to
work that system there was the priest with his assistant deacon. That
time has gone. There was time also when it was quite sufficient to argue
against anything that it was a custom practised among the Dissenters.
The reader of Wilberforce's Life will remember how anxious was that good
man that the Dissenters should not take up the question of sending the
Gospel to India, as if they did he feared their activity would put a stop
to all Church action in the matter. It is not so now. The pressure of
public opinion, the dreadful mass of heathenism which had grown up while
the Church slumbered, the growing influence of Dissent, the increasing
spirituality of the clergy, the zeal and liberality of their people, have
in London completely altered the position of the Church of England.
Never were her services so well attended, never were her clergy more
useful than now. At the West-end the Church is the fashion. In the
East, where the poverty is too great to admit of the existence of a
church on Dissenting principles, the Church is in some parishes the only
place of worship, and the Church clergyman the only religious teacher. I
have heard of one parish where the utmost that the clergyman could get
for religious and charitable purposes from his wealthiest parishioners
was but ten shillings; and of another, where the clergyman spent five
hundred a year in charity. It is in these parts of London that the
Church is most useful, most successful, most untiring in its operations,
most lavish of its spiritual and temporal good. The laity give
munificently. For example, the Countess of Aberdeen gives three hundred
a year for the support of a clergyman in the East, who preaches in a
church built by Lord Haddo; the Marquis of Salisbury has subscribed
300_l._ for a similar purpose; and the clergy, whether vicars or curates,
devote themselves unremittingly to the performance of their sacred
duties. Under these circumstances they find themselves unequal to the
task, and appeal to the laity for help.
The Association of Lay Helpers for the Diocese of London was formed in
the year 1865, and "readers" have been admitted in the chapel of London
House with a form of service drawn up for the purpose in the form
following:--
John, by Divine permission, Bishop of London, to our beloved and
approved in Christ, A. B., Greeting: We do, by these presents, give
unto you our Commission to act as Reader in the parish of C, within
our Diocese and jurisdiction, on the nomination of the Rev. D. E.,
Rector [or Vicar] of the same, and do authorize you, subject to his
approval, to read Prayers and to read and explain the Holy Scriptures
in the School thereof, or in other rooms within the parish, and
generally to render aid to the Incumbent in all ministrations which
do not strictly require the service of a Minister in Holy Orders.
And we further authorize you to render similar aid in other Parishes
in our Diocese, at the written request, in each case, of the
Incumbent. And we hereby declare that this our Commission shall
remain valid until it shall be revoked by us or our successors
(whether _mero motu_, or at the written request of the said D. E.),
or until a fresh admission to the said parish of C. shall have been
made. And so we commend you to ALMIGHTY GOD, Whose blessing we
humbly pray may rest upon you and your work. Given under our hand
and seal, &c.
At present the Association consists of 44 lawyers and medical men, 141
clerks, 48 mechanics and labourers, and 156 ranged under the head of
miscellaneous. They aim to strengthen the hands of laymen already at
work by bringing them into closer relationship with the Bishop and with
one another, and to call out more lay help by making known the kind of
work in which the clergy want assistance. Recently the Association has
been very active on the subject, and has held many meetings in all parts
of the metropolis. At these meetings undoubtedly much good has been
done; a distinguished layman has taken the chair; a paper carefully
prepared has been read upon the subject, and then a discussion of more or
less interest and value has ensued.
Great care is taken in the appointment of suitable agents. They must be
communicants sanctioned by the Bishop; a register of the names and
addresses of the members is kept, showing what description of work each
unemployed member may be willing to undertake, and also of the place and
nature of the work in which each unemployed member is engaged. Upon the
application of incumbents, members of the Association are put into
communication with them, with a view to such arrangements for lay
assistance in parochial work as may be mutually agreed upon. Once in
every year the members attend Divine service and receive the Holy
Communion together. Once, at least, in every year a meeting of the
members is held under the presidency of the Bishop if possible, in order
to consult together upon one or more of the various branches of work in
which they are engaged, and to make such regulations as may be found
necessary or expedient. I hear also of the formation of Parochial
Associations of Lay Helpers which hold monthly or occasional meetings of
a desirable character. The executive committee of the Association is
appointed yearly by the Bishop.
The work to be done is various. At all the meetings which I have
attended I have found the principal stress laid upon house-to-house
visitation and mission-house services. It has been found that the poor
have a reluctance to attend the church, but they will attend a
mission-house service, and to preach and pray at such place lay help is
urgently required. Other subjects specified are teaching in
Sunday-schools and getting children to attend, conducting Bible-classes,
tract distribution, seeking out the unbaptized and unconfirmed,
encouraging the newly confirmed to come to Holy Communion, and inducing
the poor to attend church. Under the head of week-evening work such
subjects are indicated as teaching in night and ragged schools,
management of working-men's clubs and youths' institutes, assistance at
popular lectures, penny readings, and other means of recreation,
attendance at penny banks, clothing funds, and school and parochial
libraries, visiting the poor, assisting in church services. Day work is
much the same. Other subjects not already mentioned are superintending
the distribution of relief, reading and speaking to working men on
religious subjects in workshops; collecting and canvassing for funds for
parochial and mission purposes, and acting as secretaries to parochial
institutions and religious and charitable societies. Especial stress is
laid upon the clergy being relieved of their secular duties as relieving
officers. It is felt that clergy laden with an infinity of secular work,
essential to the good of the parish and the carrying out of their plans,
are thus more or less incapacitated for the performance of the higher
functions of their office. When we think what are the manifold duties of
the clergy, it is no wonder that sermons made to represent original
compositions, and which may be read as such, meet with a ready sale.
Parochially London has grown wonderfully of late. The census of 1861,
for instance, enumerates twenty-three parochial districts as formed out
of the old parish of Kensington. Bishop Blomfield consecrated in all no
less than 198 churches during the twenty-eight years of his episcopate,
of which no less than 107 were in London.
Lay organization may be said to have commenced but recently. The first
District Visiting Society of which I have heard, writes Mr. Bosanquet,
was founded in connexion with St. John's Chapel, Bedford Row, of which
Daniel Wilson, afterwards Bishop of Calcutta, was visitor. The Parochial
Women Mission Fund was established in 1860. This association does not
send its agents into any parish without a written application from the
incumbent, who selects both the agent and her lady superintendent. There
are now about 100 agents at work in London, acting chiefly in the
capacity of Bible-women. For the young men connected with the Church
there is a Church of England Young Men's Society in Fleet Street, with
fifteen branches in London and the suburbs; of 200 members on the books,
more than half are engaged as teachers in Sunday-schools or other lay
work. Then there is the Metropolitan Visiting and Relief Association,
21, Regent Street, formed in 1843, to distribute the contributions of
charitable persons in such parts of the town as most need them, by means
of the clergy and their district visitors. For that part of London which
is in the diocese of Winchester there is the South London Visiting and
Relief Association. How well laymen can work is understood in the
neighbourhood of Drury Lane, where more than 500 of the lowest and the
poorest in that district may be seen any Sunday afternoon at two
Bible-classes conducted by laymen. Another lay agency in operation is
the Workhouse Visiting Society.
In spite of all these organizations the Church of England as regards
London has not yet fulfilled her mission. The harvest is plentiful, the
labourers are few. Clergymen in the East say they would be glad of lay
help from the West; but it does not come. In some parts of London there
are parishes containing from 15,000 to 30,000 people, and in such a
clergyman is almost unable to do his duty, in spite of his curates and
paid lay agents. In most cases the number of visitors is quite
insufficient. Mr. Bosanquet refers to a friend of his who had told him
that some months after entering on a very poor cure in the south of
London he had twenty-eight districts for visitors, but that twenty-seven
were hopelessly vacant, and that the twenty-eighth was taken by his wife.
This reminds me that some of the ladies of the clergy, especially in the
East and poorer districts, labour as energetically as their husbands. I
have heard of one lady who has two sewing-classes, with a hundred women
in each. Commander Dawson, conference secretary of the Association of
Lay Helpers, looks forward to the time when every communicant will be one
of the agents of the society, thus stimulating his fellows, and giving
fresh life and courage to his clergyman. It is clear when this
consummation is achieved the Church of England, whether established or
not, will shine with a saintly lustre which has never yet been hers.
Let me give a sketch of
AN EVANGELICAL PREACHER,
"You must go and hear the Church Spurgeon," said an intelligent lady,
residing not a hundred miles from Highbury New Park, to the writer.
"Who is he?" we asked.
"The Rev. Gordon Calthrop," was the reply. "He preaches in a temporary
iron church, St. Augustine's, Highbury New Park."
Soon afterwards, on a certain Sunday, we made our way to the church in
question. There was very little difficulty in finding it out. As you
enter Highbury New Park, leaving Dr. Edmond's new church on the right,
you come into a region of broad roads and handsome villas, into which
poverty, which has an unpleasant knack of pushing itself where it is not
wanted, actually seems ashamed to intrude. In these houses, almost
countryfied, standing in the midst of well-trimmed lawns, shaded by leafy
shrubs, between which flowers of the richest beauty bud and blossom, only
rich people and people apparently well-to-do dwell, and they all attend
at Mr. Calthrop's church. Follow any of them, as on a Sunday morning the
hour of service draws nigh, and bells far and near are calling men to
prayer, and you find yourself at St. Augustine's. Close by, a handsome
ecclesiastical structure is rapidly rising, which is to hold 1400 people.
That is the permanent church, the foundation-stone of which was laid by
the Bishop of London, and where, it is hoped and believed, Mr. Calthrop
may labour for many years to come. As it is, he has been preaching in
this iron church, which will seat about nine hundred, for the last five
years. He came there a stranger, fearful of the future, doubting what
would be the issue. The church was quite a new one. The neighbourhood
had been but recently built on, but he came with a heart full of zeal,
with an experience ripe and varied, and in a little while it was apparent
to himself and his friends that the step he had taken was fully justified
by the result. Now he has a crowded church, more than 250 communicants,
and a people ever ready to respond to his appeal, and rich in that
charity without which a religious profession is but little better than
sounding brass. The sacrament money at St. Augustine's, as they have no
poor of their own, is distributed amongst those of neighbouring churches.
One of the noticeable features in connexion with the place is the
attendance of young men from the neighbouring College of St. John's. For
the benefit of my readers let me add, that what was Highbury College is
now a place of training for ministerial work in connexion with the Church
of England--of young men who have not had, owing to unavoidable
circumstances, the benefit of a University education, but who
nevertheless are the right stuff out of which to make useful preachers of
the Gospel of Jesus Christ. On Sundays they find employment as
Sunday-school teachers in various parts of the metropolis; also on that
day, with a view to future usefulness, they go to hear such eminent
clergymen as may be preaching in the City or the West-end, but mostly
they attend at St. Augustine's, and under Mr. Calthrop's preaching they
prepare for the great work themselves.
Nor do I know that they could have a better model. Mr. Calthrop is not
the Church of England Spurgeon. I am not aware that the Church of
England has a Spurgeon. I know none of the other Christian churches of
our day that have. It is only once in an age that a Mr. Spurgeon
appears, but Mr. Calthrop has no need to fear comparison with Mr.
Spurgeon or any one else. Personally, he is much smaller than the
far-famed Baptist orator Mr. Spurgeon, and in figure and face very much
resembles the late Douglas Jerrold. His voice is one of wonderful
sweetness and power, and as he reads the Liturgy of his Church you feel
that with him it is no empty form, to be repeated parrot-like and with
railway speed, but the voice of a people humbled on account of sin, and
standing trusting, yet trembling, in the presence of their God.
Exquisitely can he render all its pathos, all its tenderness, all its
sorrow, all its fulness of exultation, all its ecstasy of Christian hope.
From the reading-desk to the pulpit the transition is easy and natural.
At a distance there is something youthful in his look; but in his grey
hair, in his face lined with thought, in his eye, which seems ever
looking far off, as if here was not the boundary of his horizon, as if it
had realized something of the glory which is to come; you see that
already golden youth has past, and that you have before you one who has
attained to the strength and steadiness, and ripeness and experience, of
Christian manhood. He will not detain you long, nor will he weary you
with learning, nor will he aim to dazzle the intellect and neglect the
heart. In language of poetical simplicity will he unfold and illustrate
his text, and force home on the hearts and consciences of all, its
lessons. There is nothing of the pretension of the priest about him, nor
does he delight in the terrors of the law. Evidently he is the servant
of one whose yoke is easy, and whose burden is light; and such is his
freshness and originality, and such is his careful preparation for the
pulpit, and such the naturalness of his delivery, that the more you hear
him the more you like him. Much of his ministerial work is done at his
own house, amongst the young people whom he collects there in his
Bible-classes, which are largely attended. For this work he seems
eminently fitted by a refinement of manner, not so much, I should fancy,
the result of training, as of the natural instinct of a kindly heart.
The North of London is favoured as regards clergymen, and Mr. Calthrop is
a favourable specimen of his class. There are none around him more
eloquent, more laborious, more successful. A recent American writer
points to the chaplainships founded and supported in all the places of
fashionable resort on the Continent as a proof of the amazing energy, and
wealth, and power of the English Church. I would rather point to such
churches as St. Augustine's, where a pastor is maintained in affluence,
and a church crowded, and real good accomplished, without one farthing
but what is raised by the free-will offerings of the people.
Outside his own immediate circle Mr. Calthrop has laboured with much
effect. As a platform speaker he is very effective. As an out-of-door
preacher he at one time greatly distinguished himself. He was also one
of the first to take his share in the work of preaching in theatres; and
one of the best accounts of one--a service at the Britannia, which was
reprinted in almost all the religious journals at the time--was from his
pen. A little while ago he had the honour of preaching in Westminster
Abbey. He was before that one of the preachers in the special services
at St. Paul's. Perhaps the greatest compliment in this respect paid him
was the appointing him University preacher at his own university--that of
Cambridge--a few years since. To have occupied that pulpit is a
memorable event in any clergyman's life.
Little more need be said. Mr. Calthrop was born in London, and educated
at Trinity College, Cambridge. He at one time had thoughts of studying
for the law, but ultimately the pulpit became the object of his choice.
As a curate he originally laboured at Reading; he moved thence to
Brighton, where he was curate to the late Rev. Mr. Elliott, author of a
work still known in theological circles--the "Horae Apocalypticae." Six
years of his ministerial life were spent at Cheltenham, and thence he
removed with his wife and family to what was then a new and untried
sphere of labour. The wealth and material prosperity around him seem not
to have impaired his devotedness. Very possibly they have opened to him
fresh fields of usefulness; for if ever plain preaching was required for
rich men, it is in the day in which we live. It is to the credit of Mr.
Calthrop that he realizes this fact, and sees in the Gospel he proclaims
a message for the richest of the rich as well as for the poorest of the
poor.
* * * * *
A book might be written about Church Life. I can only say Dr. Temple
tells us, that such commands as those in Leviticus as to tattooing,
disfiguring the person, or wearing a blue fringe, should be sanctioned by
divine authority, is utterly irreconcileable with our present feelings.
The Bible is before all things the written voice of the congregation,
writes Dr. Rowland Williams. The Pentateuch was not written by Moses.
The Psalms do not bear witness to the Messiah. The prophecies are
histories. Justification means peace of mind, or sense of the Divine
approval. Regeneration is an awakening of the forces of the soul.
Reason is the fulfilment of the love of God. The kingdom of God is the
revelation of Divine Will in our thoughts and lives. The incarnation is
purely spiritual. In London pulpits the preacher best known and most
identified with Broad Church theology is Professor Jowett, whose great
theme is that eternal punishment is inconsistent with all that we can
conceive of the requirements of justice or the character of God. Dean
Stanley says no clergyman believes the Athanasian Creed, and treats many
parts of the Bible as mythical. Of Father Ignatius and his
eccentricities it is needless to speak.
The following statistics will interest many:--"There is a weekly
celebration of the Holy Communion at 169 churches, more than one-fourth;
daily celebration at 20, nearly one-thirtieth; early morning celebration
at 159, one-fourth; evening celebration at 97, nearly one-sixth;
afternoon celebration at 5; choral celebration at 63, one-tenth;
saints'-day services at 198, nearly one-third; daily service at 132, more
than one-fifth; no weekday service at 104, one-sixth; full choral service
at 128, more than one-fifth; and partly choral service at 115, nearly
one-fifth; giving a proportion of nearly half where the psalms are
chanted; surpliced choirs at 137, more than one-fifth; paid choirs at 88,
nearly one-seventh; voluntary choirs at 231, more than one-third.
Gregorian tones are used exclusively for chanting at 46, one-fourteenth.
The weekly offertory is the rule at 128, nearly one-fifth. There are
free but appropriated seats at 141, nearly one-fourth; free and open
seats at 65, more than one-tenth. The Eucharistic vestments are worn at
20, being one church in every 31; incense is used at 7, one-nineteenth;
the surplice is worn in the pulpit at 83, more than one-eighth; and 26
churches are open daily for private prayer."
Dr. Sherlock, afterwards Bishop of Bangor, in his "Test Act Vindicated,"
published in the year 1718, tells us that in the year 1676, upon a
calculation that was made, the Nonconformists of all sorts, including
Papists as well as others, were found to be in proportion to the members
of the Church of England as one to twenty. That this is not the case now
shows how the Church of England has misused her opportunities, or else
that her claims have been rejected by the nation at large.