Chapter 15: "The Cathedral."
Chapter 15: "The Cathedral."
"I believe
In one Priest, and one Temple, with its floors
Of shining jasper gloom'd at morn and eve
By countless knees of earnest auditors;
And crystal walls too lucid to perceive-
That none may take the measure of the place
And say, 'So far the porphyry, then, the flint:
To this mark Mercy goes, and there ends Grace.'"
E. B. BROWNING.
BY THIS TIME I had become surrounded by a number of working men who had been saved from the drink, and were willing to help me save others. They used to gather at the prison gate to render voluntary help whenever work permitted; so that sometimes I had a group of five or six men clustered by the big gate, waiting for my appearance with my morning's output of prisoners. I always called them by their Christian names-Joe, Harry, Alf, and so forth-to each of whom a prisoner was consigned for conveyance to the coffee-house. There they would attend to their wants, talk to them, and help me in many ways.
Finally, some of them desired to start work on their own account, and obtained permission to visit the tramp wards of the workhouse each Sunday afternoon. Those services have been continued ever since, and have led-I am glad to hear-to the material as well as the spiritual welfare of the tramps in whose surroundings a great change for the better has been made by the authorities.
In addition to this, my friends gained entrance to a common lodging-house, which was clean and well-conducted, and to which I was in the habit of sending a good many customers. Services were held there every Sunday evening, and were enthusiastically welcomed; and I have every reason to believe that the lodging-house keeper had not only more respectable "dossers," but a larger number of them, on account of the services being conducted there. He finally offered me the use of an old loft in his back yard, in which it was difficult to stand upright except in the centre. It was reached by a crazy ladder; and when I saw it first it was in an indescribable condition of rotten timbers, dust, and neglect. Indeed, it seemed more fit to be tenanted by rats and mice, or by stray birds entering through the broken panes of glass in the windows, than to be of any use in the direction to which our thoughts immediately tended when we heard that it might be ours.
The working men and I, however, resolved that we would do our very best to transform this dilapidated room into a meeting-place for the lodgers and neighbours. So we set to work, they giving time and labour, and I providing the materials necessary. It was the subject of immense interest for some weeks; and at last, one Sunday afternoon, as was announced at Melbourne Hall, and by bills, I went down solemnly to dedicate it for the purposes of Divine worship. There was an unusual stir in the street; neighbours were standing about in little groups, and as many of the lodgers and of my own people as could were crowding the little room to suffocation. But it was a very pretty sight that greeted me; the floor had been repaired, the walls had been colour-washed and adorned with texts. Low seats had been placed across the room, a table put for me at the end, and the whole appearance was so inviting as I looked upon the sixty or seventy that had crowded in, that I dubbed the place by the name of "The Cathedral," a name which I believe it bears still. How they sang! How I preached! I have addressed many audiences, but I may fairly exclaim concerning that: How they listened! The very babies seemed to feel the spell of their unwonted surroundings, and slept.
The Bishop of this cathedral was, of course, myself; but the Dean was a dear friend of mine, by trade a painter, tall, and straight, and true, whose work has resulted in winning many jewels for Christ's crown from those scenes of squalor and drunkenness. The result of the services held there, amongst the pedlers and flower sellers, and other people that frequented the house, soon became apparent; and of this an amusing illustration was given shortly before I left Leicester.
It was my habit then, as now, to spend the Bank Holidays and Saturday afternoons with my people, especially with the young men-a practice which I would earnestly recommend to Christian ministers. The first conception of this was suggested by the story told in Kingsley's life of his work at Chester; of which it is said that, on the Saturday afternoons, the Canon and his daughters would conduct from sixty to a hundred persons for botanical and geological investigation in the neighbourhood. "Those were bright afternoons," the biographer says, "all classes mingling together; people who had lived next door to each other in Chester for years, perhaps, without exchanging a word, now meeting upon equal and friendly terms in pursuit of one ennobling object, and travelling in second-class carriages together, without distinction of rank or position, to return at the end of the long summer evening, to their old city, refreshed and inspirited, with nosegays of wild flowers, geological specimens, and happy thoughts of God's earth, and of their fellow creatures."
I could not lay claim to more than a smattering of geological knowledge, whilst I am deplorably ignorant of botany; but I tried to compensate for my deficiency in these respects by acquainting myself with the archaeology of Leicester, which contains as many ancient remains as any town of its size. Ah! those days, when we visited St. Mary's Church, where the crusaders would watch the night before they started for the Holy Land; the site of the ancient Roman amphitheatre, with the stump of the pillar that marked the stadium; the tesselated pavement, lying six feet below the level of the street, on which couriers, fresh from Rome, may have brought the tidings of the persecution of the followers of Christ; the Town Hall, where Shakespeare played, and Elizabeth held court; the church where George Fox "brawled"; the piece of wall where Rupert made one of his hottest charges, and Bunyan is said narrowly to have escaped death; these and such like would gather from eighty to a hundred young men who learnt to read history from the books of old stones and mouldering monuments.
In these explorations I received much help from various friends. One very happy afternoon, for instance, was spent at St. Mary's Church, already alluded to, under the personal direction of my friend, the late Canon Broughton. It is one of the finest churches in Leicester; and presents, in its various restorations, specimens of all the principal styles of architecture. The fine old gateway, and the adjacent Newarke (New Work) are full of historic interest; and hard by is the bridge spanning the Soar, by which King Richard passed to Bosworth Field.
For more mixed audiences in the summer, we would arrange walks to the neighbouring villages, where the kind people connected with humble chapels would provide us with tea, in return for which we held brief services. And it was at one of these that the trivial incident took place which I was about to narrate when I was led off on this long digression-much as when a whiff of air, bearing some country scent, carries the mind back to scenes now engulfed by the devouring waves of time.
We had walked to Anstey in the early afternoon, a large party, on a Bank Holiday. We were rather tired in the sultry weather, and eager for tea. Some were within the little chapel, hastening the preparations, whilst the majority were sitting with me on the steps, or standing about singing hymns. Suddenly a conveyance drew up, whose driver, and pair of horses, and general appearance, were all that could be desired. The vehicle had evidently been specially hired for the occasion; and I expected nothing less than that several of the Melbourne Hall people, who were possessed of more money than walking powers, had hired it to bring them, when, on closer inspection, I discovered that they were almost all strangers to me. But they were recognised instantly by some in the group as being the congregation· from "the Cathedral." Costermongers, flower-women, hawkers, filigree ornament makers, street fruit sellers, fish-hawkers-some of whom had been in gaol, but all were now total abstainers, if not Christians-had found their new life so profitable, that they were not only able to dress respectably, but to treat themselves for a day in the country, hiring the conveyance for their greater comfort.
It may seem but a little thing; but their evident delight, and the shouts with which they were welcomed, and the way in which they were received into our circle, were to me a very gratifying indication of the value of persistent and devoted Christian endeavour. They much wanted me to ride home with them, but the larger demands of the walking party claimed me.
Before I left Leicester, I had a scheme which I propounded to some of the principal men, of building common lodging-houses under the direction of the Council; sure I am that the majority of those who frequent such places would be thankful for more decent and wholesome surroundings. But this scheme fell through on my removal from Leicester; and I am glad to know how much good has been done in this direction by the London County Council. I have, therefore, contented myself with superintending two respectable common lodging-houses since I came to London, the story of which would be too long to tell. On the one hand, the enterprise has developed some of the noblest qualities of manhood in my fellow-workers, three or four of whom have elected to live in the common lodging-house, that they might better help the inmates. On the other hand, not a few have passed from the lowest degradation into a new life; and some, by the help of our Industrial Farm, in which I am interested, and with the assistance of the Self-help Emigration Society, have entered upon promising careers in the far West.