17. Northfield Revisited
17
NORTHFIELD REVISITED
Moody and Sankey had left New York in obscurity; they returned on August 14, 1875, international celebrities. Critics such as the New York Times still asserted they had been sent to England by showman P. T. Barnum. But an elderly London minister’s remark indicated what lay ahead for the two in their own country: “America had heard with shock how they were run after. They owe their success partly to their cheek, partly to their music.”
A bevy of reporters surrounded the Moody and Sankey families, wanting to know their plans. Characteristically, Dwight would say nothing of the future except, “I am going right up to North-field, Massachusetts, to see my mother.” His whirlwind campaigns had left little time for correspondence, and he was eager to hear about his family and news of home.
Reaching Northfield on August 16, Dwight, Emma, and the children found Dwight’s brother George waiting for them in an old, dilapidated buggy drawn by a plodding farm horse. Samuel followed in a wagon with their baggage.
Dwight breathed the still August air deeply. Excitedly, he remarked to Emma, drowsy from their long journey, “Isn’t it wonderful to come back here? How I have missed Northfield! There’s not another place on earth like it!” If Emma thought otherwise, she kept her thoughts to herself.
“HOW I HAVE MISSED NORTHFIELD! THERE’S NOT ANOTHER PLACE ON EARTH LIKE IT!”
The entourage wound slowly over the narrow Connecticut River by the railroad toll bridge, up the hill into the avenue of majestic elms arrayed in summer splendor, and on to Betsey’s little white house.
Seventy-year-old Betsey, demure in her dainty white widow’s cap, stood in the doorway, waiting for her son. She had pride in Dwight. She had heard about the huge crowds that came to hear him in Scotland and Ireland and England, even dukes and duchesses and other fine lords and ladies. She didn’t understand why they would come—she still did not approve of what Dwight preached.
As Dwight hugged his mother, she clung to him with a strength that surprised him. He realized at that moment how much his mother loved him. He wished he could stay nearby. She needed to have her family around her, not scattered across the country.
Somehow they all squeezed themselves into the small frame house that already contained Betsey and the unmarried brothers Edwin and Samuel. How happy Dwight was to be home with his family—especially with his brother Samuel. Samuel’s personality endeared him to people, despite the fact that he was the town tax collector. His slight frame combined with chronic epilepsy made him seem vulnerable, and most of the town people reached out to him.
The days at Northfield refreshed Dwight. He and Samuel climbed the surrounding hills and drove in the buggy along old familiar lanes. He remembered all the pleasant scenes of his childhood: where he had picked berries, pastured cows, and gathered chestnuts.
Dwight hoped to spend his days at Northfield exercising his body and soul. He knew his body badly needed exercise; he had had so little time to exercise while he was overseas!
But his soul needed refreshing, too. Dwight yearned to spend hours just studying the Bible and meditating on what God said in His Word.
DWIGHT YEARNED TO SPEND HOURS JUST STUDYING THE BIBLE.
Although he had intended simply to rest during his stay at Northfield, the Unitarian minister of First Parish Church invited him to speak. But Dwight refused, saying to himself: “Those who believe in Unitarianism insult Christ, and whoever insults Christ insults me.”
But Dwight’s heart burned for his family, cousins, neighbors, and the whole community—all “cold Unitarians”—to be drawn to Christ. So grudgingly, the Orthodox, Trinitarian minister, T. J. Clark, agreed to an extra service in Second Parish Church on Sunday afternoon, September 5.
Everybody in the community came—even Betsey, whose pride in her famous son overrode her Unitarian convictions. Samuel came, too—perhaps as much out of curiosity as anything else. He chuckled over Dwight’s “revivalist tendencies.”
Before long, the church literally bulged; the underpinning was giving way! George Moody strode up the aisle as the people sang hymns prompted by Dwight. George whispered in Dwight’s ear, and at the end of the verse, Dwight lifted his hand. In a casual tone but with a broad smile on his face, he announced: “The place is full. Many are still outside. I’ll preach on the steps so all can hear. While we sing the next number all will go out, beginning at the rear.”
The people sat around on the grass and in the dusty street, and a small boy wriggled up an apple tree. Only when some saw the old white building sagging dangerously did they understood Dwight’s skill in emptying the church swiftly and averting sudden panic. The deacons shored the building up before the next meeting!
Sankey perched his little harmonium on the narrow covered platform designed for churchgoers to step off wagons without getting their feet wet and began singing “The Ninety and Nine.” Incredibly, on that quiet summer afternoon, the slight breeze carried Sankey’s words and song across and down the Connecticut River about a mile away where they were heard by a Mr. Caldwell. He had refused in anger to go to the service but was sitting on his porch and listened to every distinct word. The words stirred his conscience and led to his conversion.
Dwight preached about Zacchaeus, and the Northfield town folks never forgot that unusual Sunday afternoon. Seventy years later, W. T. Holton, the son of Dwight’s first cousin Jonathan, who farmed across the Connecticut River, could remember the details. “The sun shining over the distant hills from the far side of the river; the air, so calm that not a leaf stirred; not a sound to disturb the quiet except the low murmur or voices from little groups as they discussed in subdued tones the meeting and sermon. The familiar surroundings of the town and the faces of the neighbors were only a little more real than the scenes that had been vividly portrayed by the speaker.”
People from nearby communities swarmed into Northfield to glimpse the famous evangelists. Special trains arrived from Brattleboro, Vermont, and converged upon the Orthodox Church. Betsey, too, and other family members, including Samuel, continued to come to the meetings.
There was opposition, especially from the town blacksmith. Dwight said the blacksmith “hated me, spoke most bitterly against me. The smithy was the rendezvous of all the strong opposition men.”
THERE WAS OPPOSITION, ESPECIALLY FROM THE TOWN BLACKSMITH.
So Dwight prayed and wrestled with God for his family, his loved ones, his townspeople. Above all, his heart nearly burst for his mother to know the Savior. Perhaps some song, some graphic Bible story would pierce her shield of moral confidence. But she gave no indication of any inner stirrings until one of the last evenings when Dwight invited those to rise in their places who wished to acknowledge Christ as the Son of God and trust in Him as Savior, “that we might pray for you.” Betsey stood up. Dwight was so overcome that he could barely ask one of the others to lead in prayer.
On the last night, Samuel stood.
Samuel’s conversion was solid. Like a river that had been dammed, a torrent of love began to pour through him. From then on, he took a leading part in religious meetings. He would go out and talk with weak brothers and help them to their feet. Like his older brother, Samuel would search for souls on both sides of the Connecticut River, in both sides of the valley. When Northfield formed a YMCA, they elected him president.
Following Dwight’s preaching in Northfield, it became a center of “the greatest revival ever known in that part of the state,” according to W. T. Holton. Prayer meetings were held in school-houses and private homes, and active workers, speakers, and singers alike would travel around spreading the Gospel.
The acceptance and love Dwight received from his hometown and family and their new interest in his work caused him to realize that he needed to put down roots.
He had not really considered putting them down in Northfield. Then his mother’s chickens kept crossing over to a neighbor’s corn field—much to the neighbor’s annoyance. Dwight had to make things right with the neighbor, so he approached him.
Dwight stopped his buggy and told the neighbor, Elisha Alexander, “I want to buy a strip of that field.”
Elisha responded, “No. I don’t care to sell unless it’s the whole place.”
“How many acres?”
“Twelve.”
“How much?” Dwight asked.
“Well, I’ll take thirty-five hundred dollars for the whole place with house and barns.”
“I’ll take it!”
It just happened that some money had recently been sent to Dwight as a gift, so he was able to pay the entire amount. He was now a proud owner of a house in Northfield.
DWIGHT WAS NOW A PROUD OWNER OF A HOUSE IN NORTHFIELD.
At the time, Dwight could scarcely know what lay ahead for him and his modest purchase. Just now, he needed to get back to business—but in New York, not Chicago.