The London Pulpit

Dedication

Dear Robinson,

In dedicating to you this edition of a Work, the contents of which originally appeared under your editorial sanction, I avail myself of one of the few pleasures of authorship. Of the defects of this little Volume none can be more sensible than myself: you will, however, receive it as a trifling acknowledgment on my part of the generous friendship you have ever exhibited for an occasional colleague and

the RELIGIOUS DENOMINATIONS of london

‘Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto,’ said Terence, and the sentence has been a motto for man these many years. To the human what deep interest attaches! A splendid landscape soon palls unless it has its hero. We tire of the monotonous prairie till we learn that man, with his hopes and fears, has been there; and the barrenest country becomes dear to us if it come to us with the record of manly struggle and womanly love. This is as it should be, for

In pursuance with this axiom, we have devoted some little time to the study of one section of modern men deservedly worthy of serious regard. There is no subject on which men feel more intensely than they do on the subject of religion. There are no influences more permanent or powerful in their effects on the national character than religious influences. We propose, then, to consider the pulpit power of London. There are in our midst, men devoted to a sacred calling – men who, though in the world, are not of it – who profess more than others to realise the splendours and the terrors of the world to come – to whom Deity has mysteriously made known his will. Society accepts their pretensions, for, after all, man is a religious animal, and, with Bacon, would rather believe all the fables in the Koran than that this universe were without a God. For good or bad these men have a tremendous power. The orator from the pulpit has always an advantage over the orator who merely speaks from the public platform. Glorious Queen Bess understood this, and accordingly ‘tuned her pulpit,’ as she termed it, when she sought to win over the popular mind. We deem ourselves on a level with the platform orator. He is but one of us – flesh of our flesh, and bone of our bone. The preacher is in a different category: he in his study, we in the rude bustle of the world; he communing with the Invisible and Eternal, we flushed and fevered by the passing tumult of the day; he on the mount, we in the valley, where we stifle for want of purer air, crying in our agony,

We feel the disparity – that there ought to be an advantage on the preacher’s side – that there must be fearful blame somewhere, if his life be no better than that of other men.

Before we begin our subject, we will get hold of a few facts and figures. According to the very valuable Report of Horace Mann on Religious Worship, it appears that there are, in England and Wales, 10,398,013 persons able to be present at one time in buildings for religious worship, and that, for the accommodation of such, 34,467 places of worship have been erected, leaving an additional supply of 1,644,734 sittings necessary, if all who could attend places of worship were disposed to do so, the actual accommodation being 8,753,279 sittings. In reality, however, the supply more than keeps pace with the demand. ‘Returning,’ says Mr. Mann, ‘to the total of England and Wales, and comparing the number of actual attendants with the number of persons able to attend, we find that, of 10,398,013 (58 per cent. of the whole population) who would be at liberty to worship at one period of the day, there were actually worshipping but 4,647,482 in the morning, 3,184,135 in the afternoon, and 3,064,449 in the evening. So that, taking any one service of the day, there were actually attending public worship less than half the number who, as far as physical impediments prevented, might have been attending. In the morning there were absent, without physical hindrance, 5,750,531; in the afternoon, 7,213,878; in the evening, 7,333,564. There exist no data for determining how many persons attended twice, and how many three times, on the Sunday, nor, consequently, for deciding how many attended altogether on some service of the day; but if we suppose that half of those attending service in the afternoon had not been present in the morning, and that a third of those attending service in the evening had not been present at either of the previous services, we should obtain a total of 7,261,032 separate persons, who attended service either once or oftener upon the Census Sunday. But as the number who would be able to attend at some time of the day is more than 58 per cent. (which is the estimated number able to be present at one and the same time), probably reaching 70 per cent. – it is with this latter number (12,549,326) that this 7,261,032 must be compared; and the result of such comparisons would lead to the conclusion that, upon the Census Sunday, 5,288,294 able to attend religious worship once at least, neglected to do so.’

The non-attendance appears to be greater in towns than in our rural populations; and in this respect London is not unlike other places. It is difficult to classify its religious developments; but the principal denominations may be stated as follows:

BRITISH:

Church of England and Ireland.

Scottish Presbyterians:

Church of Scotland.

United Presbyterian Synod.

Presbyterian Church in England.

Independents or Congregationalists.

Baptists:

General.

Particular.

Seventh Day.

Scotch.

New Connexion, General.

Society of Friends.

Unitarians.

Moravians, or United Brethren.

Wesleyan Methodists:

Original Connexion.

New Connexion.

Primitive Methodists.

Wesleyan Association.

Independent Methodists.

Wesleyan Reformers.

Bible Christians.

Calvinistic Methodists:

Welsh Calvinistic Methodists.

Countess of Huntingdon’s Connexion.

Sandemanians, or Glassites.

New Church.

Brethren (Plymouth).

FOREIGN:

Lutherans.

German Protestant Reformers.

Reformed Church of the Netherlands.

French Protestants.

other christian churches.

Roman Catholics.

Greek Church.

German Catholics.

Italian Reformers.

Catholic and Apostolic Church.

Latter-Day Saints, or Mormons.

JEWS.

In all, 35; of these 27 are native, and 8 foreign. These are all, or nearly all, the bodies which have assumed any formal organization. There are, in addition, many isolated congregations of religious worshippers, adopting various appellations, but none of them sufficiently numerous to deserve the name of a sect.

Of course, the chief of these various denominations is the Church of England. In the Handbook to Places of Worship, published in 1851, by Low, there is a list of 371 churches and chapels in connexion with the Establishment. Some of them have very small congregations, and every one confesses it is a perfect farce to keep them open. In some of the city churches, thirty persons form an unusually large audience. But most of them are well attended. To these churches and chapels belong, in round numbers, 700 clergymen. The appointments of ministers to the parish churches are, in most cases, under the control of the vicars or rectors of their respective parishes. In the case of private chapels, the party to whom the property belongs has, of course, nominally the right of appointing the minister; but, eventually, that appointment rests with the congregation, for to thrust in an unpopular preacher against their wishes would be to destroy his own property. For the parish churches, again, the right of appointing the clergymen is vested in various hands according to circumstances, which it would require too much time and space to explain at sufficient length to make them understood. The patronage is, in a great many cases, invested in the Crown; but the Bishop of London is also a large holder of metropolitan patronage. The Archbishop of Canterbury is patron in several cases, and, in some instances, holds his patronage conjointly with the Crown. In such cases, the right of appointment is exercised alternately. The Lord Chancellor is sole patron of four or five livings in London, and in six or seven other cases exercises the right of patronage alternately with the Archbishop of Canterbury, with the Bishop of London, with private individuals, and with the parishioners. The parishioners possess the sole right of patronage in only three or four instances; and, in one or two cases in the City, particular corporations possess the right of appointing the clergy. The doctrines of the Church of England are embodied in her Articles and Liturgy. Her orders consist of bishops, priests, and deacons. Besides, there are dignitaries – archbishops, deans and chapters, attached to cathedrals, and supposed to form the council of the bishops, archdeacons, and rural deans. The average income of a beneficed clergyman is £300 a year; of a curate, £81. The number of church-sittings in London and the surrounding districts, according to Mr. Mann, is 409,834.

Next in order are the Independents or Congregationalists, who differ from the Church of England more in discipline than doctrine. They maintain the independence of each congregation – that a church is simply an assembly of believers. Only two descriptions of church officers are regarded by them as warranted by Scriptural authority – bishops or pastors, and deacons; and the latter office with them is merely secular. Amongst them the deacon merely attends to the temporal affairs of the church. In the Episcopalian Church, the deaconship is the first step to the priesthood. In London and its neighbourhood the Independents have about 140 places of worship. Mr. Mann’s return does not give them so many, but he states the number of sittings to be 100,436.

The Baptists have much in common with the Independents. Like them, they believe in the unscriptural character of state churches; and, like them, believe each church or assembly of faithful men to be able to manage its own affairs; but they differ from nearly every other Christian denomination on two points – the proper subjects and the proper mode of baptism. According to them, adults are the proper subjects of baptism, and immersion, not sprinkling, is the proper mode of administering that rite. As an organized community, we find them in England in 1608, about thirty years after Robert Brown had begun to preach the principles of Independency. The Baptists have many subdivisions. The Particular Baptists preponderate: they are Calvinistic. A remarkable unanimity of sentiment has always existed among them, except on one particular point – the propriety of sitting down at the communion table with those who reject adult baptism. Mr. Horace Mann gives the general body 130 chapels; Mr. Low, 109. The Census returns give them accommodation for 54,234.

The Methodists have, in all, 154 chapels in London, the larger number of which belong to the Wesleyans, who are Arminians, who are governed by a Conference, and whose ministers are itinerant. Mr. Mann tells us they seldom preach in the same place more than one Sunday without a change, which is effected according to a plan generally re-made every quarter. London is divided into ten circuits. Then there are the Calvinistic Methodists, who were originated by the labours of George Whitfield, aided by that devoted Countess of Huntingdon whose name yet lives in connexion with one of the most remarkable revivals of religion in our land. There are several sub-divisions besides. The original Wesleyan body has suffered much of late in consequence of the operations of the Wesleyan Reformers. It is stated that, by this division, the connexion sustained a loss of 100,000 members. In London, the Methodists, including, as in the case of the Baptists, six or seven sub-divisions, have sittings for 69,696. Of the number of attendants it is calculated about 12,000 are church members, or communicants. It may be as well to mention here, that, with the exception of the Irvingites, and, of course, the Roman Catholic Church, which only admits priests to the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, and of the Quakers, who do not profess to observe that ceremony at all, there are two classes of persons attending all churches and chapels – the common hearers, and the smaller class who profess to be converted and regenerated men. In the Church of England the theory is, every baptized man is this; and therefore every one has a right to approach what is called the Table of the Lord. In the Church of Scotland, we presume, it is the same. An anecdote, which was told by Mr. J. Haldane, implies this: – that gentleman stated that once he was present at a Highland parish church on a sacramental occasion, when there was a pause, for none of the people seemed disposed to approach the tables; on a sudden he heard the crack of sticks, and, looking round, saw one descend on the bald head of a man behind him. It was the ruling elders driving the poor Highlanders forward much in the same manner as they were accustomed to pen their cattle. Among Dissenters only a certain class are supposed to have this right – that class consisting of those who profess to have become in their natures changed and sanctified to God, who are considered to be ‘a chosen generation – a peculiar priesthood!’ They are received into the church after, generally, a careful scrutiny as to their motives and convictions and character, and, at any rate, amongst Dissenters are generally considered as the Church, for whom a Saviour died, and on whom he devolves the conversion of the world.

The remaining divisions of the church and chapel goers of London may now be disposed of.

The Presbyterians have 23 chapels, some in connexion with the Church of Scotland, and some not. The number of chapels thus connected is 5, and the number of Scotchmen settled in London being about 130,000, it is more than probable that Sawney is not the church-going animal abroad, he most undoubtedly is when he is at home. It seems that the Scotch attending Presbyterian churches in London, even if they occupy every sitting, are not more than 18,211; and, if Sawney were not proverbially an economical fellow, one would be inclined to hint that you will catch him taking a cheap railway excursion on the very day in which, in his ‘land of the mountain and the flood,’ it is deemed sinful to do more than walk from one’s home to the nearest kirk.

Next, as regards numbers, come the Unitarians, who have 9 chapels in London, and about 3300 sittings.

By-the-bye, we ought to have mentioned before this the Roman Catholics, who have 35 chapels, and of whom there were, on the Census Sunday, 35,994 worshipping at one time. In no case do the Census returns give us the real attendance. We have merely the number of sittings, or attendants, morning, afternoon, or evening. In the case of Roman Catholics, we have given the number of persons attending in the morning, there being this difference between them and other sects, that with the latter, the number of sittings will be generally much greater than that of the attendants, whereas with the Roman Catholics the reverse is the truth, as they get more out of their chapels than any other denomination can.

It seems the mild, drab-coloured men, who call themselves Quakers, and wear broad-brimmed hats and square collars, and say ‘thee’ and ‘thou,’ of whom Belgravia knows but little, but who, nevertheless, are foremost when some great good is to be done, and some outcast class is to be reclaimed and saved, are but a feeble folk, as far as numbers are concerned. The ‘youngest of the four surviving sects which trace their origin to that prolific period which closed the era of the Reformation,’ they promise to be soonest extinguished. In 1800 they possessed 413 meeting-houses; in 1851 they had but 351. Mr. Low gives them 9 chapels; Mr. Mann but 4, with sittings for 3151. This latter number, small as it is, appears to be considerably more than is required for their services. The real truth, probably, is, that Quaker worship is too calm and phlegmatic for this bustling go-a-head age. In George Fox’s time, men held communion with the Invisible and Eternal – with Him who dwells in the light to which no man can approach. There are but few who care to do so now, and therefore is it that that race of practical philanthropists was far larger in George Fox’s time than ours. As to the other sects, it is scarcely necessary that we do more than take a very hasty glance at them.

The Moravian Brethren, who date from 1772, with Count Zinzendorf at their head (and who have no reason for their separate existence save the fact that, when they appealed to the lot as to whether they should join the Lutherans or not, the lot was against the junction), have 2 chapels and 1100 sittings.

The Jews have 11 synagogues and 3692 sittings.

The remaining congregations, with the exception of the Mormonites, who have now 33 places of worship, are almost exclusively isolated.

There are 94 chapels that thus defy classification; nor can we be surprised that such is the case. Our boast is, that every man is free to worship God according to the dictates of his own heart – that religious inquiry is unfettered amongst us – that every man who chooses may form a sect for himself. The advantages of this state of things preponderate over its disadvantages. The philosopher may despise, and the Christian of a generous heart and catholic aspirations may regret, that such should be the case – may think it better that men had wider views – better that we should stand on a broader platform than a sectarian one: but we may not quarrel with the conditions of religious existence. We must feel that these sects and schisms denote religious life and thought – that their absence would be death – and that, as the world grows and the truth becomes clearer, they will, one by one, disappear.

The 94 chapels we have referred to, belonging to the New Church, the Brethren, the Irvingites, the Latter-Day Saints, Sandemanians, Lutherans, French Protestants, Greeks, Germans, Italians, have accommodation for 18,833. Of course some of these people have but little reason to give for the faith that is in them. Actually, in this age of intelligence – in these days of cheap literature and cheap schools – there are men and women so sunk in ignorance as to credit the absurd pretensions of Joanna Southcote or Joe Smith; but these people we must include. We sit in judgment on none; and thus we give the church and chapel goers, as follows:

According to the last returns, we have the following population: Finsbury, 323,772; Lambeth, 251,345; London (City), 127,869; Marylebone, 370,957; Southwark, 172,863; Tower Hamlets, 539,111; Westminster, 241, 611; and with other places not classified, in all, 2,362,236. If we compare this with the figures I have given, we shall see that, if all the accommodation that exists were used, rather more than a quarter of the London population frequented public worship. In reality, the number is less. Yet, perhaps, the returns show as much religious observance as we could expect.

By way of contrast, let us see how the London world that is not religious spends its Sabbaths. A very large and complicated organization would be required to collect the statistics of the habits of the population of London on a Sunday, but an attempt was made on August 16, of the present year, to throw some light upon the subject by a few gentlemen accustomed to observe and estimate large numbers of people. The outward passenger-traffic by the railways during the morning appeared to be about as follows: —

The steam-boats above and below bridge were crowded, and the various public gardens, &c, on the sides of the river, were also crowded. About 14,000 persons passed down the river, and about 6000 upwards, beyond the ordinary river traffic. In Greenwich Park there were about 80,000 persons, and Gravesend and Woolwich were also crowded by visitors, estimated at 10,000, including the patrons of Rosherville gardens, &c. At 5 o’clock there were nearly 2000 persons in Cremorne Gardens, and at 8 o’clock fully four times that number. Hampton Court was scarcely as crowded by visitors as on some previous days, but the numbers there and the excursionists to Kew have been already estimated by the boat and train. In the Regent’s Park the numbers have not been counted at any time during the summer, though some of the “penny-a-liners” have given the exact number. There was an immense crowd listening to the people’s subscription band in the Regent’s Park, and at a low estimate the numbers considerably exceeded a hundred thousand. In the Victoria Park, where another people’s band played from five till seven o’clock, there were about 60,000 persons present at one time. The aristocracy had a very large number of carriages in the Hyde Park, and about 8000 entered Kensington Gardens during the afternoon. From these estimates, intended to be free from all exaggeration, it would appear that out of the population of London, about one quarter of a million were engaged in what has been characterized as the “public desecration of the Sabbath.” If we include servants, omnibus-drivers, cabmen, &c. – persons who follow on the Sunday the usual avocations of the week, of course this number is considerably increased.

It is cheering to think that the pulpit has advanced; and to feel, if it have not its lights, such as Chalmers, or Irving, or Hall, it has become almost freed from the buffooneries by which at one time it was disgraced.

Huntington, the S. S., or Sinner Saved, used to stop in the middle of his sermons with exclamations such as – ‘There, take care of your pockets!’ ‘Wake that snoring sinner!’ ‘Silence that noisy numskull!’ ‘Turn out that drunken dog!’ Rowland Hill once preached as follows:

‘The mere professor reminds me of a sow that I saw an hour since luxuriating in her stye, when almost over head and ears in the mire. Now suppose any of you were to take Bess (the sow), and wash her; and suppose, after having dressed her in a silk gown and put a smart cap upon her head, you were to take her into any of your parlours, and were to set her down to tea in company: she might look very demure for a time, and might not give even a single grunt; but you would observe that she occasionally gave a sly look towards the door, which showed that she felt herself in an uncomfortable position; and the moment she perceived that the door was open, she would give you another proof of the fact by running out of the room as fast as she could. Follow the sow with her silk gown and her fancy cap, and in a few seconds you will find that she has returned to the stye, and is again wallowing in the mire. Just so it is with the unrenewed man. Sin is his element.’

Could anything be weaker or in worse taste than that?

The pulpit has ceased to offend by any such exhibitions. The men in the pews have advanced, and the men in the pulpit have had to do the same. Men of science and of intellect and literature must have men of science and of intellect and literature to preach to them. It is power the ministry lacks. It fails because it is of the past – uses the language of the past – prays the prayers of the past. Instead of seeking a revival in the churches, it had better seek its own revival. We have some twelve hundred clergy (Church and Dissent) in this great Babylon, and yet the devoutest worshipper can scarce name a dozen as superior men. Yet preaching is not the difficult thing ministers affirm. Literary men, enterprising merchants, sharp attorneys, aspiring barristers, honourable M.P.s, work infinitely harder, though professing infinitely inferior aims. A popular actor certainly seeks no richer reward than a popular parson; but the former will throw into his performance a life of which the latter appears to have no idea. For the men who care not for the manner but the matter, the pulpit has still less to offer. Where, then, is the wonder that in London, where men are not driven to church or chapel – where they do not lose caste because they do not observe the required customs of respectable society – the mass are beyond the reach of the preacher’s voice, listening, it may be, to the sermons on our stones and in our streets – the sermons the world’s great ones and illustrious leaders preach, when they worship railway kings, or erect statues to royal debauchees? What wonder is it then that in life’s busy scene the still small voice of the pulpit grows weaker every hour?