THE CAMPBELLITES
In America of late years there has been an enormous increase of what are called the Campbellites. They now number in that country 500,000, have fifteen colleges, and a large university with 800 students; they have 2000 churches, and 1000 regular ministers. They are also well represented as regards literature. They have one quarterly, six or seven weeklies, two ladies’ magazines, and several Sunday-school papers. In London they are not a numerous class. They have places of worship in the Milton Hall, Camden Town, and in College Street, Chelsea. The truth is, as regards chapels and churches, public worship is as much a social as a religious institution. Fashion has a great deal to do with the attendance. It is the fashion to go to church. It is not the fashion to run after new sects or preachers of new doctrines. In a flourishing church there are societies which bring people into contact with one another – these promote in their turn, like the far-famed ale of Trinity, “brotherly neighbourhood.” The old ladies get a habit of gossiping – Jones, Brown, and Robinson take tea together – and then young people form alliances in consequence often of a serious and matrimonial character. It is uphill work, then, in London for a little isolated cause. The odds against its permanent success are infinite. Still the Campbellites are making way. They have a fine base of operations in America, and they are spreading over England, – if they are not doing much in the Metropolis. They are good, pious people, and earnest in the conviction that they alone understand and maintain apostolical charity; and deeply deploring the present divided and unhappy state of the Christian Church, and with a view to unity, they increase the number of divisions by withdrawing from all other religious bodies, and forming a fresh one of their own.
Who are the Campbellites? I will endeavour to answer the question. Their creed, as they tell us, is simply the Messiahship. According to them, the Christian creed thus presents for individual and immediate acceptance the one living, personal, loving, Divine, all-wise and omnipotent Saviour from ignorance, sin, and rebellion. Humanly devised and written creeds demand faith in abstract metaphysical, theological, ecclesiastical, and political propositions, and have so effectually supplanted the good confession, that though admitted as a doctrine, few churches or professors of the present day would consider themselves safe in depending solely on its saving faith or belief in God’s testimony as contained in His Word, as delivered by apostles and prophets, and as corroborated by signs and wonders, and divers miracles and gifts of the Holy Spirit. Campbellism distinguishes the Gospel not only from the words of men, but from Scripture generally – that Jesus is its subject. It apprehends him not only as Jesus of Nazareth, but as God manifest in the flesh – the Son and Christ of the Father consecrated to the high offices of Prophet, Priest, and King. It recognises the applicability and reference of the Saviour’s mission and work to the individual himself as clearly as if he were the only sinner for whom Christ has died; nor is it a mere intellectual assent, but a willing, heartfelt reception of the truth and surrender of the whole man, body, soul, and spirit. Now, as I imagine most orthodox Christians would say as much, and would state their belief in similar terms, with the exception of the Presbyterians and Episcopalians, who have the advantage or disadvantage, whatever it may be, of having to repeat a creed of more scholastic character, the question still remains, why cannot the Campbellites worship with other Christians? I must frankly confess there is in their services nothing more fitted to make an impression upon the world than there is in the services of other denominations; neither at Chelsea nor in Camden Town do you get from their preachers an idea that they are men of greater power, higher spiritual life, deeper experience, or more usefulness than are others. Clearly this definition of Christian belief is no warrant for another schism, even though the aim be Christian unity, and the putting a stop to the endless differences which are the grief of the Christian and the laugh of the worldling. Their form of worship is eminently simple and dissenting – a revival, it may be, of that of apostolic times – that I cannot say as, according to some, there are remains of a liturgy in the Pauline epistles. It is not clear how the ancients worshipped, but it is clear the Campbellites simply sing and pray, and read the Scriptures and deliver an address. They are Baptists, and they believe that Baptism is essential to salvation. Baptist churches are numerous in London. No Baptist need hire room, or chapel, or barn, or hall, and meet there to edify himself and his friends apart from the great and active community who feel as he does in that matter. The Campbellites maintain that many things are wrong which are done in other churches. They assume that there was a greater purity in apostolic times than now, and they aim to revive it. For this purpose they exalt the power of the Church, and depreciate that of the ministry. I don’t learn that they have all things in common, though that was certainly one of the most prominent features in apostolic times; but they draw a sharp line between the Church and the world, and in their Sunday services almost ignore the latter. They have little of that charity which hopeth all things, which thinketh no evil, which is long-suffering. If they are building a chapel they would not take the money of an unconverted man. If they were collecting subscriptions for the sending out Evangelists, for the printing of religious books and tracts, for the support of a Christian ministry, they would refuse those of worldly men. More logical or more consistent in small matters, they make no provision in their books of praise for the unconverted man. I find in their hymn-book no one verse in the whole volume is designed to be sung simply by the unconverted. Their hymns are for those who, having the spirit of adoption, cry, Abba Father! It is proper, says the writer of the preface to the volume to which I refer, it is proper for convicted sinners, who do not know the way, to seek salvation, but they are not called to sing their sorrow, much less are Christians called to unite with them. Again, he tells us the unconverted have no need to sing prayers for pardon. What then, I may ask, are they to do? The answer is that, they may stand and listen and be sung at, as well as preached at. Mr. King, the writer already quoted, says, “Though there are not hymns for the unconverted to sing, there are appeals to the unconverted to be sung by the church.” Practically, however, the arrangement differs little from that of other churches. A book is put into your hands, and the chances are, people who are in the habit of singing sing. As only immersed adults are Christians, it is not clear what the young people who attend their service are; that they sing I can, however, testify. It is to be feared that the Campbellites are not exempt from the faults of all religious worship, as manifested in strength of expression. If men and women believed what they say or sing in all our churches and chapels, little would remain for us but the Millennium.
The Campbellites do seek to guard against this danger. It is the Church that sings. It is the Church that worships. All Christian worship is in Scripture confined to Christians, and necessarily so, for worship offered by any one else is not Christian. Thus it is only on the faithful in Christ Jesus that the various items of Christian worship are enjoined: they are profaned and prostituted when applied to any others. In the morning of the Sabbath the Church meets by itself to break bread and sing and pray; on such occasions the members exhort and edify one another. In the evening the service is of a more general character; appeals are made to the unconverted, and they are invited to attend.
“All you that are weary and sad come,
And you that are cheerful and glad come,
In robes of humility clad come,
Away from the waters of strife.
Let youth in the freshness of bloom come,
Let man in the pride of his noon come,
Let age on the verge of the tomb come,
Let none in their pride stay away.”
As a matter of fact, the unconverted do not avail themselves of the offer. It is a small place of meeting, the Milton Hall, but it is quite large enough, and more than large enough for the church and congregation. One brother prays and reads the Scriptures and gives out a hymn, another brother delivers an address, another brother concludes with prayer, and then there is a prayer-meeting after. The advantage of the Campbellites seems to me that they are only a little duller than their neighbours. The little ones around me, when I attended, found it hard to keep awake, and yet the service is short. It commences at seven and closes a little after eight. As they have no paid ministry, as their elders and deacons take the chief parts in the service, even after supporting an evangelist their expenses are not heavy, and in this they find a plausible plea. If, say they, half a dozen churches are built where one would be enough, and half a dozen ministers are kept where only one is required, clearly in consequence of these divisions amongst brethren, there is a lamentable waste of money and power and spiritual influence. Unfortunately, as regards London there is no force in the plea, and will not be till the time comes when the various sections of the Christian Church shall have made all necessary provision for the spiritual wants of the metropolis.
THE MORMONS
Thirty years ago, writes Hepworth Dixon, in that glowing account of Mormonism which, next to “Spiritual Wives,” he seems to consider as the crowning glory of his life, – “thirty years ago there were six Mormons in America, none in England, none in the rest of Europe, and to-day (1866) they have twenty thousand saints in Salt Lake City; four thousand each in Ogden, Prono, and Logan; in the whole of their stations in these valleys (one hundred and six settlements properly organized by them and ruled by bishops and elders) a hundred and fifty thousand souls; in other parts of the United States about eight or ten thousand; in England and its dependencies about fifteen thousand; in the rest of Europe ten thousand; in Asia and the South Sea Islands about twenty thousand; in all not less, perhaps, than two hundred thousand followers of the gospel preached by Joseph Smith. All these converts have been gathered into the temple in thirty years.”
The other day the Mormons of the London district met at the Music Hall, Store Street, and held a conference. Mr. Franklin Richards, the President, delivered an address. From his speech it appeared that in the metropolis there were nine branches, one hundred and seven elders of conference, fifty-three priests, twenty-four teachers, thirty deacons. During the six months preceding 132 persons had been baptized, sixteen cut off or had died; the total number in the London district, including officers, was 1172. I imagine the Mormonites flourish better in districts less enlightened. Around Birmingham they are very sanguine, and I have seen the miners in Merthyr Tydfil by thousands listening to the gospel according to Joe Smith and Brigham Young.
The principal place of worship of the Mormons or Latter-day Saints is in the Commercial Road, but there are others; one of them is in George Street, Gower Street. In that locality there is a very shabby dancing saloon, from which the graces seem long since to have departed. At three o’clock every Sunday afternoon the Mormons assemble there. On a raised platform may be seen seated some seven or eight men, apparently decent workmen. Below them is a table, around which are a few lads, who set the tunes and take round the sacrament, which is administered every Sunday to all, including any strangers and children who may feel disposed to partake of it. Benches fill up the rest of the room, which are occupied chiefly by females with their families – including, of course, the baby, the inevitable feature in all gatherings of the lower orders. All seem enthusiastic and very friendly, and wretchedly poor. Their idea of Mormonism seems to be chiefly that of a successful emigration scheme, only mixed up with a little of the religious phraseology, which is most fluently uttered unfortunately by the unthinking masses to whom words do not represent ideas. You might fancy as you enter that you had made a mistake, and got amongst the Primitive Methodists. The hymns are very much the same, and so is frequently the style of prayer. Sermon there is none, but instead you have addresses, the burden of which is generally of one kind. The speaker is thankful that at last he has known the Lord, and wishes he had done more for Him, and hopes, if health and strength be spared, to do more. There is also generally an address of a wider character. The Lord is calling them out of this country, where the Gentiles have the rule over them, and they are to hasten, old and young, to the City of the Saints. They are to pay their debts, mend their old clothes, save all they can, and then those that cannot pay for their voyage will be helped to join the settlement in Utah. Apart from the prayers and hymns, these meetings seem secular rather than spiritual, – to have reference more to this world, than the next. If, as it seems to me, the Mormonites in this country have had a Methodist training, they have managed to eliminate pretty completely the Methodist theology; but, perhaps, they treat it as they do the Bible. The Mormons profess to believe in it, at the same time they omit its spiritual teaching altogether. Their theology may be best explained in one of their own hymns: —
“The God that others worship is not the God for me,
He has neither part nor body, and cannot hear and see;
But I’ve a God that lives above,
A God of power and love,
A God of Revelation, – Oh, that’s the God for me!
Oh! that’s the God for me; oh! that’s the God for me.
“A church without apostles is not the church for me,
It’s like a ship dismasted, afloat upon the sea,
But I’ve a church that’s always led
By the twelve stars around its head,
A church with good foundations – oh! that’s the church for me!
Oh! that’s the church for me! oh! that’s the church for me!
* * * * *
“The heaven of sectarians is not the heaven for me,
So doubtful its location, neither on land nor sea,
But I’ve a heaven on the earth,
The land that gave me birth,
A heaven of light and knowledge – oh! that’s the heaven for me!
Oh! that’s the heaven for me! oh! that’s the heaven for me!”
Such are the songs sung, with a fervour unknown in better attended and genteeler places of worship.
The Mormons speak of us as Gentiles, yet in reality they take our creed and add to it polygamy and communism. Their belief as regards Father, Son, and Holy Ghost is almost orthodox, and if they claim to be divinely ruled and to have the power of working miracles, do not other sects the same? Like the Quakers, they can dispense with religious forms. Like the ancient Israelites, they are a peculiar people, but what is peculiar to them, and that which constitutes the secret of their success, is this – that they preach to the poor, and wretched, and starving, that the kingdom of God has been founded upon earth, that it belongs to the saints, and that they are the saints. Man, they say, is part of the substance of God, and he will become God. He was not created by God, but existed from all eternity. He was not born in sin, and is only accountable for his own misdeeds. Angels, it seems, from what Young told Hepworth Dixon, “are the souls of bachelors and monogamists, being incapable of issue, unblessed with female companions, unfitted to reign and rule in the celestial spheres. They have failed,” said Young, “in not living the patriarchal life – in not marrying many wives. An unmarried Mormon fills but a low scale in the order of things.” Man being of the race of God becomes eligible for a celestial throne: his household of wives and children being his kingdom, not on earth only, but in heaven, polygamy is thus his highest duty, and most glorious privilege. In the East, polygamy does not answer. The races with one wife there breed faster than the Turks. In the city of the Mormons, under polygamy, births are very numerous. The actual wives of Young are twelve! the twelve apostles own from three to four each. Young has forty-eight children, and all have their quivers full. The women, according to Mr. Dixon, dislike polygamy nevertheless.
In this country and among the Mormons the doctrine of polygamy is not that on which much stress is laid. Here the Mormon preaches temperance, sobriety, honesty, industry, the need of saving up money, and the advantages of emigration to Utah. In the Millennial Star, the organ of the community, one brother writes from Wales: —
“The Word of Wisdom is quite a text with us of late, and is producing very good effects. We see its fruits manifested among the Saints, several of the brethren leaving off tobacco and other things that are injurious to the constitution. The tea is a matter that bothers the sisters considerably, but in the face of this difficulty many are leaving it off, and pronouncing it of no beneficial effect in any way whatever. I think that much will be done by abstaining from those things towards clothing those children that are very thinly clad.”
It is in this way that Mormonism has spread. It has come to the poorest of the poor, and used their own language. Its phraseology is that dear to the natural heart. We are all too prone to throw our responsibility on others: It is the Lord who saves me. It is the devil who makes me bad; and it is a great help to the ignorant and uneducated, not merely to have spiritual states shadowed forth in earthly language, but to feel that, after all, heaven is here in the shape of comfortable dwellings, wives and children, raiment to wear, and a bellyfull. “This is great encouragement to the saints in their pilgrimages here in old Babylon, and stimulates them to more diligence in building up the kingdom of God, and delivering themselves from the yoke of tyranny and oppression, to enjoy the liberty of the people of God in the valleys of the mountains.” Thus writes one of the elders with reference to certain manifestations of the gift of tongues; but I quote the passage here as applicable in an eminent degree, and as illustrating the religious phraseology, affected no doubt for certain ends by the Mormons. The kingdom of God, for instance, of the theologians may be difficult of apprehension to the illiterate and the rude; but if it means to me a good house and good living in Utah, it at once assumes an attractive form. If to live in England is to live in Babylon, of course it is my duty to emigrate; and if Brigham Young is the Lord’s deputy on earth, then to disobey his call is an act of sin. So degraded are many of our brethren and sisters in this Christian land, where we have one parson at the least in every parish, that they are utterly unable to contemplate anything apart from its accidental forms. Their God is a God of parts and passions; their religion is one of sensation; their heaven a loss of physical pains and the presence of physical delights; they become at once an easy prey to the Mormonite preacher when for ten pounds he offers them the realization of their hopes, not at the end of life, but now, and tells them that in the Land of the Saints they shall hunger no more, nor thirst any more.
CHAPTER XVIII.
advanced religionists
The Church of Progress.
At length, if I am to believe what I hear and see, the religious problem of the age has been solved, and I am presented with a form of worship which is in accordance with the discoveries of science and the dignity of man. In St. George’s Hall, Langham Place, this new association meets; its president is Baxter Langley, Esq. It dispenses with prayer, and with the reading of the Bible, but instead there is a performance of sacred music by a choir of a hundred voices, with solos sung by professional ladies and gentlemen specially engaged, and then the President himself, smiling and buoyant as if it were an election meeting, as chairman, performs many solos on his own account. In short, as a paper lying before me says, “Everything will be done to make the service delightful, whilst instruction will be secured by a popular lecture each evening from some gentleman eminent in science, literature, or art.”
It seems to be a speciality of this Church of Progress that it disappears in summer altogether. It is only in the winter time that its doors are thrown open – not at all to the poor and needy, but to those who can pay. Is not this a little hard? Life is short, and the disciple of progress may well mourn that for him half the year exists in vain. Then, again, this Church of Progress, as much as the oldest and most-abused Churches of Christendom, makes very rigorous requirements on the pocket. Sixpence is the minimum paid. If you would hear comfortably you must pay a shilling. If you would have a seat where you can see and hear still more comfortably you must shell out half-a-crown. Now, if a man goes with his wife and family, it is obvious that the sum he will have to pay will be, if he have but a scanty income, no small consideration. It is true that a reduction is made if you take tickets for the course, but what I find fault with is that the casual poor have no chance of being benefited by this new gospel – that it does not appeal to them – that it ignores them altogether. I may hear the greatest of Dissenting preachers, I may sit under deans and bishops – nay, I may listen to the finished accents of an archbishop – without putting my hand in my pocket, but for the lecture at St. George’s Hall, and the sacred minstrelsy there, I must at the least pay sixpence. The sum is a small one, but it has a tendency to narrow the Church and to limit its influence – it must keep outside many who otherwise would worship there. Why should the Church of Progress only appeal to the man with sixpence in his pocket? Is it only the capitalist whose soul is worth looking after? For common people will any old-wife’s fable do?
A more serious fault may be found with the Church of Progress. “We are not animated by any spirit of antagonism,” they say; “and as we propose to occupy a new field of utility, we see no reason why our assemblies should be regarded with hostility by other bodies.” “Our religion is positive and constructive, not negative and aggressive.” “Our Church is founded upon the recognition of the primary importance of human welfare; and its purpose will be to develop the power of philanthropy by education in the truths of science and philosophy, and by the elevating influence of the highest and purest art.” What Protestant Church cannot say the same? As to art, whence does the Church of Progress get its music, which perhaps is its chief attraction, but from the Churches which it tells us are losing their hold upon the minds of the people? It rears philanthropy: what was Peabody? It talks of philosophy: what were such philosophers as Sir David Brewster or Professor Faraday? Equally delusive is its denial of antagonism. It is founded for those “whose religious ideas find no suitable exponent in any of the existing Churches.” The existing Churches more or less appeal to the Bible, and to Christ as Master, and place before the mind as consolation, or warning, or allurement, the splendours and the terrors of a world to come. In the new Church all this is set on one side. Science, not dogma, is to be the teacher, and they sing —
“Reason and love! thy kingdom come,
Oh, Church of endless ages rise!
Till fairer shines our mortal home
Than heavens we sought beyond the skies.”
Is it true to say that between this new light and the old there is no antagonism? Is it honest to say, as they do in the address already referred to, “we ask no one to adopt or deny any of the creeds of the Churches. We shall endeavour to promulgate truth, and truth is always Divine”? Is it not clear that no one can join the Church of Progress unless he has ceased to believe in the creeds of the Churches? that it is impossible to believe in Christ and Baxter Langley as well? When Pilate said unto the Jews, “Whom will ye that I release unto you, Barabbas, or Jesus which is called Christ?” none but an idiot would have said there was no antagonism between the two. Again, it may be asked, by what right do these “earnest, conscientious men and women” in Langham Place call themselves a Church? Is it for the sake of deceiving the public? To teach art, or science, or literature, is not religion. Why, then, define as a Church people who meet on a Sunday to hear lectures on science, literature, and art? Undoubtedly, people may do worse on a Sunday night, but in listening to such lectures they have no right to say they are at church.
Mr. George Jacob Holyoake is also one of their lecturers; and if he be not antagonistic, what is he? Of all irrepressible men Mr. Holyoake is undoubtedly the most so. You meet him everywhere. Not a social science meeting, nor a political gathering, nor a philosophical discussion exists within reach of London but he is present at it, to take part in its discussions as the exponent of the views, and feelings, and desires of the British working man. If London is demonstrative, as when a Garibaldi appears upon the stage, foremost of those who meet to do him honour is Mr. Holyoake. In the House of Commons he is similarly prominent. In the Speaker’s gallery or in the lobby you may see him all night long, here speaking to a member, there listening to one as if the care of all the country rested on his shoulders. I don’t fancy Mr. Holyoake is the great man he takes himself to be. I deny his right to be the exponent of the class of whom he condescends to be the ornament and shield. I admit his boundless activity, his wonderful talent for intrusion, the cleverness of his talk. I admit, too, the energy with which in the course of a now extended career he has travelled the land, with a view to convince his fellow-men that there is no future, that he who says there is but repeats the old worn-out fiction of the priests, and that it is for this world rather than the next that we must labour and strive. Undoubtedly for Mr. Holyoake some extenuation must be made. A man may well doubt the Christianity which instead of removing his religious doubts throws him into gaol for the crime of expressing them. Nevertheless, I may doubt, if not the sincerity, – for about that there can be no question – at any rate the truth and wisdom of his creed; and may, after all, prefer the light of the Gospel to that which he asks me to admire. I may admit that there have been quacks, and impostors, and charlatans in the religious world – that the Church has fearfully failed in its mission – that, armed with the sword of the State, it has been often a curse and a blight – but it does not follow that the truth, of which the Church should be the living organization, has no existence, that it has no mission in this world, that the Bible is to be trampled under foot, that the Saviour is to be abolished, and that for man, instead of the narrow path and the heavenly crown, nothing is left but that he should eat, and drink, and die. Such, however, I believe, is Mr. Holyoake’s Gospel. As to his utterances on Sunday when I heard him, they were of the poorest character possible. The subject was the common people; and after describing three or four classes of them, he finished with the inculcation of the by no means original idea – that they were not so bad as they seem, that we had to respect in them the humanity which, under favourable circumstances, might be developed into something better. I never heard Mr. Holyoake preach before, and I shall take care never to hear him again. As a speaker, one of Mr. Spurgeon’s rawest students would beat him hollow.