The Man with the Book; or, The Bible Among the People
TextAnother publican, who was met with in this house, spoke strongly against the Sunday business.
"Grumbling is of little use in such matters," observed the visitor. "Act: get up a petition asking Parliament to close you entirely upon the Lord's-day, and request one of your Members to present it. A movement of this kind in the trade would be much to your own and to the public good."
"If sir," he replied, "you will write out the petition, I will sign it, and go round with you to other members of the trade, to obtain signatures."
The request was complied with, and forty licensed victuallers signed the petition for entire Sunday closing, and it was duly presented.
The arresting power of the Word of God was frequently witnessed in these gin bars. For instance: a woman one evening who entered the "Globe," and called for her first dram, was arrested by the reasoning of the missionary with some labourers. Approaching him, pewter measure in hand, she exclaimed, "You have no business here; go out, or I will throw this over you." The men pushed her away, but he said kindly, "Before you do so, let me say something to you out of this Book," and then, after a pause to find a suitable passage, he read distinctly, "Thus saith the Lord that made thee … I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground. I will pour my Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine offspring." Only a few words of comment were uttered, when the woman placed the measure upon the bar, and raising her apron to her eyes, burst into tears, and left, exclaiming, "Oh that I was a little girl again!" She did not taste the gin, and was never after met in a bar. It was evident that an arrow of conviction had sped forth from the Word of God, but with her as with thousands of others, its ultimate effect was not known. Encouragement, this, for earnest labour and simple trust in the power and promised blessing upon the proclamation of God's mercy in Christ; yes, upon the utterance of every truth contained in His own inspired Word.
Opportunities frequently occurred for seeking the good of customers as well as landlords, and these led the Missionary to the conviction that the public-house is a very proper sphere for Missionary operations. The following is one instance. Upon passing a public-house in his district rather late one evening, the visitor noticed a woman near the door who had evidently been crying, and she had an infant in her arms. When he spoke to her she told him that her husband had just gone into the tap-room with all the money they had, and she was afraid to follow him, as he would knock her about if she did.
"Wait here," said the visitor; and then he entered the house, and passed into the tap. It was filled with low men, several of whom appeared confused at his seeing them there. He however addressed one of them in a friendly manner, and said, "You men had better be careful; there is some one outside."
"Who can it be!" exclaimed several of the men, looking uncomfortable.
"A White Sergeant," was the reply, and the announcement produced a roar of laughter. To explain the reason of the merriment a digression is necessary. Well, then, a "White Sergeant" in the tap-room parlance is a wife who fetches her husband out of the public-house. This is considered a great offence, and men who submit to such an exercise of "women's rights" are much joked at by their companions. Many of the quarrels between husband and wife result from this cause. One Monday morning, in a court he visited, the Missionary saw five women with black eyes, all received through efforts to get their husbands home with their full week's wages. The announcement that a "White Sergeant" was waiting for one of them outside was therefore considered a capital joke.
As soon as their merriment had subsided, the visitor said gravely, "And this 'White Sergeant' is a woman of whom any man might be proud—pleasant-looking and neat in her dress, with a dear little baby in her arms; and in my opinion the man who would bring such a woman to cry outside a public ought to hang his head for shame."
The selfishness of men who for their own pleasures would act in this way, was enlarged upon, until a man rose and quietly left the room. A few tracts were distributed, and then the visitor also went out, and saw the man walking away with the "White Sergeant." He approached them and spoke kindly to the man, saying that he would like to call and give picture-books to his children. In a surly way he was told that he might "do as he liked," and he therefore went with them to their door.
Next Sunday the visitor called, and after a pleasant chat, opened the Bible to read to them, when one of the children began to cry. The father, without saying a word, took off his rough cap and threw it at the child with such force as to knock it heavily upon the floor. The poor child crawled into a corner, and, from fear, remained quiet. The parable of the Prodigal Son was read, and the man was deeply interested in it, and with the exposition showing the love of the Father. As the reader proceeded, the man looked kindly towards the child, and then went and took it into his arms. The visitor was pleased with this act, as it showed him that the man could be influenced for good. As he was leaving, the man addressed him thus,—
"You didn't know me, guv'nor, when you saw me in the tap; but I knowed you as the chap as made my pal religious, as I used to play pitch-and-toss with when a boy, and used to go out on the drunk with after we got to be men; and when I seed him a-dyin', said he to me said he, 'Bob, get religion, as it ain't no good a-goin' on bad, as Jesus Christ is our Saviour. And my old woman will tell the tract man to have a say with you out of his Book.' Well, when you comed into the tap in that 'ere way, and talked sensible, thinks I, that's 'im, and it's my Beck outside; so I misselled (slipped out), and shouldn't mind if you made Beck and me religious, that I shouldn't."
The meaning of the word "conversion" was explained to him in simple language, and an appointment made for further instruction. These visits were continued for some months, and a marked change for the better had taken place, until he one night yielded to temptation, got drunk, and became worse than he had ever been before. He stripped the house of every comfort, and all the labour appeared to have been lost upon him. He was, however, met with one afternoon when hawking crockery, and induced to sign the pledge. This he kept for three months, and again relapsed. His friend had come to the conclusion that his case was hopeless, when he received an unexpected visit from the man.
"Please, mister," he said with some confusion, "I am a-comin' to live right agin you. I seed a room with a loft over a stable and I took it, and I shall feel strong like bein' agin you, and shan't be near my pals as gets me to drink. It 'tain't 'pertinent like, is it, my comin' here?"
The poor man was commended for his strange but wise resolution, and his friend called to see them very frequently. As a result, the children were sent to a Sunday school, and the man was seen in the free seats at church, clean, but in his hawker's clothes. The reformation went on with him, and he became sober and well conducted. One morning he called upon his friend, and said, "I never cared, sir, for my children, for I was a drunkard, and I didn't know nuffin' of our souls and religion, and Beck and I wants the young uns to be christened, that we does, and we are goin to stick to church like as if we was made new inside, as is religion."
A few days after this conversation the curate called and instructed the parents and the elder children in the Christian faith, and then he arranged for the baptism. As the Missionary stood at the font with the six children before him, he rejoiced and gave thanks because of the change which had passed over the family. The "White Sergeant" and the drunken hawker had changed in every way since he saw the one crying outside the public-house, and the other seated in the tap-room. They remained in the neighbourhood for several years, and were among the most respectable of the poor.
In this marked way it pleased the great Head of the Church—who is always gracious to His servants who strive to win souls—to honour the effort made to secure the salvation of the poor costermonger; and the leadings of His providence also made it an open door by which the Gospel has been made known to hundreds of thousands of the London poor. The Missionary, in accordance with his promise to the minister, commenced the regular visitation of the fourteen public and beerhouses upon the district. This was trying and difficult, but good results were granted; and the Committee of the London City Mission, after examining into the work, requested him to visit all the public-houses in a large parish, as his sphere of duty. Results were so satisfactory that they appointed Missionaries to the same class of houses in nine other parishes, and are now making efforts to extend the work. It is pleasing to know that in the bars, tap-rooms, and parlours of 3,450 out of the 10,340 licensed houses in London, earnest effort is made for the spiritual enlightenment of the men and women who frequent them. As the gracious and known result, hundreds of these have been reclaimed from drunkenness and other vices, and many of them are members of Christian Churches. The influence upon publicans, and through them upon the trade, has been in many instances remarkable for good. Some houses have been entirely closed; others upon the whole of the Lord's-day; while the character of many has been changed for the better. Bar and other servants, who form a large and important class, have received great benefits; not a few have been induced to leave the business, and others have been fortified against its temptations and snares. In addition to all this, there is a large daily distribution of Gospel and Temperance tracts, while publications of a high Christian and moral tone are pressed into circulation. It may, indeed, be said that a new field for Christian enterprise was opened by the discovery that it is possible to grapple with the withering curse of drunkenness at its very fountain-head, and so bring many hitherto unreached multitudes in our great cities under the influence of Christian teaching.
The Book in the Bars:
ITS SPIRITUAL POWER.
"Sir, did you ever walk along a street,
A low back street, at night, where drunkards meet!
Where the gin palace turns the night to day,
And public-house and beer-shop line the way?
Say, did you listen? What, sir, did you hear?
Our English workmen were enjoying beer.
Did the rude clamour come from happy men,
Or wild beasts maddened, raging in their den?
You heard the fiendish laugh, the oaths, the strife,
The curses heaped upon a helpless wife;
The wretched harlot's song, the drunkard's roar,
The noisy fiddle and the rattling floor;
You saw the ragged mother sick and pale,
You heard the miserable infant's wail;—
That was the Englishman's happy lot:
That was the music to the poor man's pot:
You heard it? Yes,—our workmen mad with drink!
Something to make a sober Christian think!"
Mrs. Sewell.
CHAPTER VIII
THE CLOCK GOING WRONG—MEN OF THE FANCY—THE RAT-PIT MAN—A CHILD ON THE BARREL—TICKET OF LEAVE MAN—A ROUGH—A DRUNKARD'S HOME—A FALL AND RISE.
The Book in the Bars:
ITS SPIRITUAL POWER
"So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God." Rom. x. 17.
THE following advertisement, which appeared in several of the daily newspapers, induced the Missionary to pay a farewell visit to the landlord and bar-servants:—
"Gin Palace for sale, in a good working and gin-drinking neighbourhood; doing £240 a week over the bar: elegant and substantial fittings. Terms moderate. Immediate possession," etc.
With this farewell purpose, the Christian visitor entered the "bottle department" early upon the following Sunday evening, but found the place so filled with customers that neither the landlord nor bar-men had a moment to spare. He therefore simply shook hands with them, and arranged to call in during the quiet hours of the following afternoon, and then commenced evangelizing work among the people.
Three high partitions divided the bar into four compartments; and, as is usual, there were separate doors to each, so that the crowds of customers could not see each other, though the noise of their converse and disputes produced a war of words, and rendered quiet conversation difficult. One would have thought that the private or "bottle department" would have been the easiest to visit, as its name seemed to invite the respectable order of drinkers. To some extent this was the case, but a jury of bar-men would certainly agree in the opinion that this sly part of the house, into which so many well-dressed persons slip for their drams, is the most lucrative and usually the most crowded. Only a few weeks before, the visitor was standing with a young man in a similar compartment, when seven women, wives of working men, entered, and called for a quart of gin with ale glasses. They were laughing heartily at what they considered a happy thought of one of their companions,—the clubbing together for the purpose of ordering so large a quantity of spirits: they were much disconcerted at the withering rebuke they met with.
Upon the evening of our visit, eight or ten men and women were present. One of these, a respectable tradesman, rejected a tract with the remark, "I don't want your religious nonsense, as I do the thing that's right between man and man; and if I didn't I would not be interfered with by other people in religious matters, as I know what is right, and could do it." "The clock there is going wrong," replied the visitor, looking towards that very ornamental object, "and because it's out of repair, it does not answer the purpose for which it was made, as it is hours too slow. Now the landlord will not attempt to repair it himself, neither will he give it to a grocer or a bricklayer for that purpose: he will no doubt send it to the man who made it,—to a clockmaker who understands its mechanism; he will clean and repair it, and then the hands will go right. Well, it's just so with us men: when we do wrong it proves that we are unclean inside, and out of repair, and it is no good trying to set ourselves right, for we can't do it; or to get other people to tinker at us, as they are sure to make us worse. Our proper course of action is to approach our Almighty Maker, with the prayer, 'Create in me a clean heart, oh God, and renew a right spirit within me.' When this is done, we go right, and glorify God in our bodies and our spirits, which are His." After a few words about the Fountain opened for sin and uncleanness, the speaker passed out, leaving the people with their eyes fixed upon the clock, and their thoughts upon the Saviour.
In the next compartment about sixteen working men had assembled, all of whom were sober. Several were annoyed, as one of them said, at "being tackled in such a place as that about religion." "Why, you are all in the building trade," exclaimed the intruder, "and if you listen to the words I repeat, and do them, you shall be likened to wise men who built a house upon a rock: 'And the rain descended, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.'" As the attention of the men was arrested by the parable, it was repeated to the end; and then, taking the Bible from his pocket, the reader observed, "These are not my words: they were spoken by the Lord Jesus Christ." "I knows a lot of the Bible," said one of the men, "and He never talked like that." "I've heard it before," retorted a companion, "and it's there." "Yes: I am right," replied the man with the Book; and then, leaning his back against the bar, he read the parable through, in a clear, expressive tone. He then looked up, and said kindly, "You are not building on this rock; if you were you would be in the house of God, instead of this place."
"That's right!" exclaimed several, and three of them followed him into the street. "I'll go next Sunday," said a carpenter. "And so will I," answered his companion, a smith. "And I will meet you at this corner and go with you," said the reader. This arrangement was confirmed with hand-shaking; and the men went thoughtfully towards their homes, the Missionary entering the next compartment.
In this several groups of persons were standing together, those near the door being sweeps, who, in honour of the day, were partly washed. One of them, a young man, said that his mother was ill and wanted some one to pray with her. The visitor took down the address and promised to call. While doing so his attention was directed to several men of the "fancy," who were in loud conversation about the difficulties of their calling. They were attired in dirty fustians, with gaudy cotton handkerchiefs round their necks, and caps which made their foreheads appear "villanously low." One of them held a bull-dog by a chain, and several puppies were peeping out of the side pockets of his coat. He was evidently the important man of the group, as his companions were listening with respect to his grievances, which he expressed in the following way: "This 'ere draining of London will be the ruin of us, that it will. Why look 'ere: I've been all this blessed day a-trying to get six dozen of rats, and I has only got two dozen; and it's ruination the price of them is. I never grumbles at buying them at fourpence each when they are fat and lively like that, I doesn't, as it's a fair price; but it's enough to make a chap go rampstairing when he has to tip a bob each, or eleven shillings a dozen for them, as I did this afternoon; and it's this draining of London does it, as they be slushed away. And then last week I had a misfortune. I went out with my pal, as is ratcatcher to the Queen, for two days' catchin' about Windsor, and I left three dozen in the low pit. Well, when I comes back, my misses, as as bin queer, said, 'Oh dear me, I forgot to feed the rats!' So I went off, as I knowed how it 'ed be. When I looked in it a dozen had gone, and they was a-eating ever-so-many of one another; so I chucked in the stuff as had been mixed up for 'em, and there was an end of their barbarities, as rats are good-natured like when they has plenty of grub; but when the price is up it is, as I say, ruination."
"And so you have been all day trying to buy rats, have you? a pretty way to be sure for a man to spend his Sunday," observed the Missionary, as he turned towards the man, and caressed a pretty little spaniel whose head was resting upon the flap of his pocket.
"I has," was the sharp reply: "and I makes no profession of religion, so it's no harm; like them saints, one of which I knows as cheats you through thick and thin; so I does the correct thing, and snaps my finger, and says I, None of your religion for me."
"I see how it is," rejoined the visitor. "You have met with an imitation Christian, a counterfeit, as we call bad money, and for that reason you will not be a real Christian. Is that what you mean? If so, it is like saying, 'A man passed a bad shilling upon me, so I never mean to take a good one.'"
"That's a puzzler," replied the man, thoughtfully; "as I knows what good Christians are, as was my father and mother, as was Welsh, like me. They did the right thing by me; but I 'erd of people a-gettin' on in London, so I ran away from them, and begged and stumped it up here. And I got in with some young prigs in Whitechapel, and got took before the beak, as wasn't for much; and he didn't give a fellow a chance, but put on three months hard; and when I got out I couldn't get on, so I went out with a chap a-catchin' birds and rats, and married his daughter. And now I has a bird shop at Shoreditch, and a rat-pit, as was profitable afore this 'ere draining was inwented, as gents bring their dogs to be teached to kill rats first-rate, and sometimes they has a match on the quiet; and they are gents as does it and pays up, and says as I am the best rat-pit man they knows."
In reply to questions, the rat-pit man admitted that during the eighteen years he had been in London he had only once been into a church, and that was at his marriage. When reminded that he was the child of many prayers, and of parents passed into the heavens, he was softened, and said, "If I know'd somebody as is religious, I should be better; but I doesn't know a religious chap, that I doesn't."
"Give me your address," said the visitor, "and I will ask a Missionary gentleman who lives near, a friend of mine, to call upon you." This was done, and the parties left the bar together.
The fourth compartment was crowded with persons of the degraded and disorderly class, and it was evident that several men in one corner were excited with liquor. In the centre was a large barrel, and round it stood three women. One of them had turned a quart pot upside down upon the barrel, and had seated her little child, about a year old, upon it. She called for "a quartern and three outs" (three glasses to divide the liquor), when the Missionary, who felt the difficulty of securing the attention of such a people, approached with the exclamation: "Why, what do you think? When the Saviour of the world was here, He took a little child, a pretty little dear like that, and sat it in the midst of His disciples, and said, 'Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.'"
"Did He, sir?" exclaimed several.
"Yes: He did," was the reply; "and if you will listen to me I will tell you what He meant."
At this the people gathered round the barrel, and the speaker, taking the tiny hand in his, continued: "There is no mistake about the love of a little darling like this. When it throws its arms around your neck you know it's real love" ("That it is," said the mother, giving the child a hug); "and the Saviour meant that we men and women, who are children of the great Father in heaven, ought to love Him with all our hearts, and do His holy will. Now I don't think that we all do this."
"I should think not," said a man with a coarse laugh. "If we did, we shouldn't be a-getting drunk in here on a Sunday night."
"You are right," replied the visitor. "You are not like this pretty child; you are bad children, and must, as Jesus said, be converted. The great Father loves you, and sent His Son to tell you how to be made good, and to die for your sins." Other words of exhortation were being uttered, when the address was brought to a close by another group of persons pressing into the bar.
This consisted of an old woman, and three young men of the genus rough. The woman, who had been crying, and who had new weeds upon her head, was reluctant to enter, as one of the men said to her, "Never mind, mother; it's what we are all a-comin' to. He was a good un, as respected was everywhere. Come in and have a drop of rum."
"And have you been," inquired the Missionary, "to bury the husband and the father?"
"Yes, sir," replied the widow, sobbing. "We was married forty-two years, and it's his first night in the cold grave, and I'm so miserable, and my boys has brought me to give me some rum;" and then she sobbed so deeply that the people looked at her with pity.
"Don't touch the rum," said the visitor, "but let me go home with you and read from this blessed Book the comforting words which the merciful God has said to widows;" and then they stepped out of the bar, the sons following. They entered a house a few doors further on, and descended to the back kitchen, which was dismal, and almost without furniture. Taking a seat on the edge of the bedstead, the visitor read the account of the widow of Zarephath, and such Scriptures as "The Lord relieveth the fatherless and widow;" "Let thy widows trust in Me;" and then explained to her the meaning of being "a widow indeed." The young men were deeply interested, but when prayer was offered they stood up awkwardly, though the mother knelt; it was evident that they had never bent the knee in supplication. After more words of sympathy the widow was left much comforted, and with the promise of another visit.
After this the Missionary passed through several other public-houses with varied success, and scattered much precious seed. As the evening was far advanced, he entered a large beer-shop, intending a final visit. About thirty men and women of the lower class were standing, many of them with their backs to the walls, as the landlord had removed the seats to prevent his customers staying too long. Upon glancing round, the visitor noticed a middle-aged man, whom he had not seen for several years, and inquired of him where he had been?
"To prison, for assault upon a woman," he replied. "I was committed for four years, and that wasn't much, as she will never get over it; and I'm out six months afore time with a ticket-of-leave; and it was the drink as made me do it, as I wouldn't hurt nobody."
"It's no use laying it to the drink," was the reply; "speak the truth, and say that it was your love of the drink,—your vice that led you to commit the crime. You may make excuse now, but the day is coming when you will be tried again for that and for every offence of your life, as we must all stand before the judgment seat of Christ; now mind, if you are condemned by that Judge there will be no escape from the prison of hell, to which you will be sent."
At the commencement of this conversation, the door swung open, and a man of a baser sort entered. He listened; but brought the conversation to a sudden close by clenching his fist, and with that malicious hiss which bad men have, he addressed the Missionary, and said, "What business has you in our shop, a-talking like that 'ere? for two pins I'd smash in your frontispiece."
The ticket-of-leave man frowned, and holding out his right arm with extended finger and thumb gave a peculiar jerk and exclaimed, "If you does I'll garotte you." And a woman, whose sister the visitor had placed in a reformatory, fearing that he would be injured, rushed before him with a half-scream. The rough, who was evidently astonished at the good feeling which existed between the Christian teacher and the persons of his own class, stepped back; but as the attention of the debased crowd in the bar was directed towards him, the visitor raised his hand and said loudly, "Never mind: I am not hurt. But it was just so hundreds of years ago, when the Saviour of the world was here. He used to feed hungry people, and heal the sick, and give eyesight to the blind; but there were men who smote Him with the fist of wickedness, and who cried out, 'Crucify Him, crucify Him,' and then they nailed Him to a cross." The speaker then dropped his voice to a solemn note, and continued, "Yes; and—
'It was for such as you He died,
For such that He was crucified,
For such He reigns above.'"
The effect was startling, as that congregation of the wicked stood in silent awe; while the landlord and his barmen leaned forward to listen. A few more earnest words were uttered, and the evangelist stepped out, wiping the perspiration from his brow. The rough at almost the same moment passed out at the other door, and approaching the Missionary, said, "I ax yer pardon, guv'nor; but I wouldn't 'urt a hair of your 'ed."
"I feel all right toward you, so never mind," was the kind reply, enforced with a friendly touch of the arm. "You sees, guv'nor," the rough continued, "as I am a bad un, as I had a month for beating my old woman, and its becos I ain't hedicated, cos if a chap ain't hedicated he's nuffin."
From this speech it was evident that the man had a desire for instruction, and the visitor felt that to impart this would give him a power which might lead to a moral and spiritual regeneration; he therefore inquired if he would like to know how to read and write?
"Oh, shouldn't I: that's all!"
"Well then, if you have the mettle in you to stick to your book, which is hard work for a man of forty, I will spend an hour with you once or twice a week, and teach you."
The poor rough looked astonished, wriggled in a strange manner, and then gave expression to his feelings, by exclaiming, "If you does, master, when I gets into work I'll treat you to a day in the country."
His friend could but smile at this singular ebullition of grateful feeling, though he knew the force of its meaning. To men like him, pent up in the density of the mighty city, a day in the country is the greatest conceivable enjoyment, and to promise that showed that the man had a soul, and perhaps a latent taste for the beautiful.
As it was necessary that the teacher should know where the man lived, he went with him down one of those narrow, dirty streets, where the people live in comfort as regards thieves: as they have nothing to be robbed of, they allow their doors to remain open all night. The man entered one of these open doors, and ascended the stair-case, in thick darkness; his step was evidently known, as a woman came out of the back attic, holding in her hand a blacking bottle, in which was a piece of candle. All doubts as to her being his wife was set at rest, by the rough introducing his new acquaintance in the following elegant language, "'Ere Sarah, 'ere's a gent I've picked up in a beer shop." To the embarrassment of the dirty, ragged woman, the visitor entered the room; and a deplorable room it was,—a drunkard's home. The floor was dirty, without a piece of carpet, and several of the panes of glass were broken and pasted over with pieces of brown paper, greased to admit a little light. There was only one broken chair, and a sieve-basket, covered with a rusty tea-tray, formed another seat. The table was evidently the safest piece of goods, as the wife invited her visitor to take a seat upon it. There was no bedstead, but an accumulation of rags in one corner covered two dirty little children. The poor woman had that crushed and wretched expression of face so common among the wives of this class of men. A quarter of an hour's conversation set her at ease and secured her good-will. Before leaving, the visitor, who had taken his seat upon the table, opened his Bible and read, while the woman stood with her light in the blacking bottle on one side of him, and her brutal but now subdued husband upon the other.