Christmas Evans Part 19

Remarks renewed in Vindication of his Use of Parable in the Pulpit-His Sermons appear to be born of Solitude-His Imitators-His Probable Acquaintance with "the Sleeping Bard" of Elis Wyn-A Dream-Ill.u.s.trations-The Gospel Mould-Saul of Tarsus and his Seven Ships-The Misplaced Bone-The Man in the House of Steel-The Parable of the Church as an Ark among the Bulrushes of the Nile-The Handwriting-Death as an Inoculator-Time-The Timepiece-Parable of the Birds-Parable of the Vine-tree, the Thorn, the Bramble, and the Cedar-Ill.u.s.trations of his more Sustained Style-The Resurrection of Christ-They drank of that Rock which followed them-The Impossibility of Adequate Translation-Closing Remarks on his Place and Claim to Affectionate Regard.

FROM the extracts we have already given, it will be seen that Christmas Evans excelled in the use of parable in the pulpit. Sometimes he wrought his mine like a very Bunyan, and we believe no published accounts of these sermons in Welsh, and certainly none that we have found translated into English, give any idea of his power. With what amazing effect some of his sermons would tell on the vast audiences which in these days gather together in London, and in our great towns! This method of instruction is now usually regarded as in bad taste; it does not seem to be sanctioned by the great rulers, and masters of oratorical art. If a man could create a "Pilgrim's Progress," and recite it, it would be found to be a very doubtful article by the rhetorical sanhedrim. Yet our Lord used this very method, and without using some such method-anecdote, or ill.u.s.tration-it is doubtful whether any strong hold can be obtained over the lower orders of mind. Our preacher entered into the spirit of Scripture parable, and narrative. One of the most famous of his discourses is that on the Demoniac of Gadara, which we have already given in preceding pages. Some of our readers will be shocked to know that, in the course of some of his descriptions in it, he convulsed his audience with laughter in the commencement. Well, he need not be imitated there; but he held it sufficiently subdued before the close, and an alternation of tears, and raptures, not only testified to his powers, but to his skill in giving an allegorical reading of the narrative.

For the purpose of producing effect,-and we mean, by effect, visible results in crushed, and humbled hearts, and transformed lives,-it would be a curious thing to try, in England, the preaching of some of the great Welshman's sermons. What would be the effect upon any audience of that great picture of the Churchyard World, and the mighty controversy of Justice, and Mercy? Let it be admitted that there are some things in it, perhaps many, that it would not demand a severe taste to expel from the picture, but take it as the broad, bold painting of a man not highly educated,-indeed, highly educated men, as we have said, could not perform such things: a highly-educated man could never have written the "Pilgrim's Progress"-let it be remembered that it was delivered to men, perhaps, we should say, rather educated than instructed, men illiterate in all things _except_ the Bible. We ourselves have, in some very large congregations, tried the preaching of one of the most famous of Evans's sermons, "The Spirit walking in dry places, seeking rest, and finding none."

Christmas Evans's preaching was by no means defective in the bone, and muscle of thought, and pulpit arrangement; but, no doubt, herein lay his great _forte_, and power,-he could paint soul-subduing pictures. They were not pieces of mere word-painting, they were bathed in emotion, they were penetrated by deep knowledge of the human heart. He went into the pulpit, mighty from lonely wrestlings with G.o.d in mountain travellings; he went among his fellow-men, his audiences, strong in his faith in the reality of those covenants with G.o.d, whose history, and character we have already presented to our readers.

There was much in his preaching of that order which is so mighty in speech, but which loses so much, or which seems to acquire such additional coa.r.s.eness, when it is presented to the eye. Preachers now live too much in the presence of published sermons, to be in the highest degree effective. He who thinks of the printing-press cannot abandon himself. He who uses his notes slavishly cannot abandon himself; and, without abandonment, that is, forgetfulness, what is oratory? what is action? what is pa.s.sion? If we were asked what are the two greatest human aids to pulpit power, we should say, Self-possession and Self-abandonment; the two are perfectly compatible, and in the pulpit the one is never powerful without the other. Knowledge, Belief, Preparation, these give self-possession; and Earnestness, and Unconsciousness, these give self-abandonment. The first, without the last, may make a preacher like a stony pillar, covered with runes and hieroglyphics; and the last, without the first, may make a mere fanatic, with a torrent of speech, plunging lawlessly, and disgracefully abroad. The two, in combination in a n.o.ble man, and teacher, become sublime. Perhaps they reached their highest realization, among us, in Robertson of Brighton. In another, and in a different department, and scarcely inferior order of mind, they were n.o.bly realized in Christmas Evans.

Perhaps there never was a time when ministers were more afraid of their audiences than in this day; afraid of the big man, with his wealth, afraid of the highly-cultured young man with the speculative eyegla.s.ses, who has finished his education in Germany; afraid lest there should be the slightest departure from the most perfect, and elegant taste. The fear of man has brought a snare into the pulpit, and it has paralysed the preacher. And in this highly-furnished, and cultivated time we have few instances of preachers who, in the pulpit, can either possess their souls, or abandon them to the truth, in the text they have to announce.

It must have been, one thinks, a grand thing to have heard Christmas Evans; the extracts from his journal, the story they tell of his devout, and rapt communions of soul with G.o.d, among the mountains, the bare, and solitary hills, reveal sufficiently how, in himself, the preacher was made. When he came into the pulpit, his soul was kindled, and inflamed by the live coals from the altar. Some men of his own country imitated him, of course. Imitations are always ludicrous,-some of these were especially so. There was, says one of his biographers, the shrug, the shake of the head, the hurried, undertoned exclamation, "Bendigedig,"

etc., etc., always reminding us, by verifying it, of Dr. Parr's description of the imitators of Johnson: "They had the nodosities of the oak without its vigour, and the contortions of the sibyl without her inspiration."

It was not so with him: he had rare, highly spiritual, and gifted sympathies; but even in his very colloquies in the pulpit, there was a wing, and sweep of majesty. He preached often amidst scenes of wildness, and beauty, in romantic dells, or on mountain sides, and slopes, amidst the summer hush of crags, and brooks, all ministering, it may be thought, to the impression of the whole scene; or it was in rude, and unadorned mountain chapels, altogether alien from the aesthetics so charming to modern religious sensibilities; but he never lowered his tone, his language was always intelligible; but both it, and the imagery he employed, even when some circ.u.mstances gave to it a homely light, and play, always ascended; he knew the workings of the heart, and knew how to lay his finger impressively upon all its movements, and every kind of sympathy attested his power.

It is a great thing to bear men's spirits along through the sublime reaches, and avenues of thought, and emotion; and majesty, and sublimity seem to have been the common moods of his mind; never was his speech, or his pulpit, like a Gilboa, on which there was no dew. He gave it as his advice to a young preacher, "Never raise the voice while the heart is dry; let the heart, and affections shout first,-let it commence within."

A man who could say, "Hundreds of prayers bubble from the fountain of my mind,"-what sort of preacher was he likely to make? He "mused, and the fire burned;" like the smith who blows upon the furnace, until the iron is red hot, and then strikes on the anvil till the sparks fly all round him, so he preached. His words, and thoughts became radiant with fire, and metaphor; they flew forth rich, bright, glowing, like some rich metal in ethereal flame. As we have said, it was the nature, and the habit of his mind, to embody, and impersonate; attributes, and qualities took the shape, and form of persons; he seemed to enter mystic abodes, and not to talk of things as a metaphysician, or a theologian, but as a spectator, or actor. The magnificences of nature crowded round him, bowing in homage, as he selected from them to adorn, or ill.u.s.trate his theme; all things beautiful, and splendid, all things fresh, and young, all things old, and venerable. Reading his discourses, for instance, the _Hind of the Morning_, we are astonished at the prodigality, and the unity of the imagination, the coherency with which the fancies range themselves, as gems, round some central truth, drinking, and reflecting its corruscations.

Astounded were the people who heard; it was minstrelsy even more than oratory; the truths were old and common, there was no fine discrimination, and subtle touch of expression, as in Williams, and there was no personal majesty, and dignity of sonorous swell of the pomp of words, as in John Elias; but it was more,-it was the wing of prophecy, and poetry, it was the rapture of the seer, or the bard; he called up image after image, grouped them, made them speak, and testify; laden by grand, and overwhelming feelings, he bore the people with him, through the valley of the shadow of death, or across the Delectable Mountains.

There is a spell in thought, there is a spell in felicitous language; but when to these are added the vision which calls up sleeping terror, the imagination which makes living nature yet more alive, and brings the solemn, or the dreadful people of the Book of G.o.d to our home, and life of to-day, how terribly majestic the preacher becomes!

The sermons of Christmas Evans can only be known through the medium of translation. They, perhaps, do not suffer as most translations suffer; but the rendering, in English, is feeble in comparison with the at once nervous, bony, and muscular Welsh language. The sermons, however, clearly reveal the man; they reveal the fulness, and strength of his mind; they abound in instructive thoughts; their building, and structure is always good; and many of the pa.s.sages, and even several of the sermons, might be taken as models for strong, and effective pulpit oratory. Like all the preachers of his day, and order of mind, and peculiarity of theological sentiment, and training, his usage of the imagery of Scripture was remarkably free; his use also of texts often was as significant, and suggestive as it was, certainly, original.

No doubt, for the appreciation of his purpose, and his power in its larger degree, he needed an audience well acquainted with Scripture, and sympathetic, in an eminent manner, with the mind of the preacher. There seem to have been periods, and moments when his mind soared aloft, into some of the highest fields of truth, and emotion. Yet his wing never seemed little, or petty in its flight. There was the firmness, and strength of the beat of a n.o.ble eagle. Some eloquence sings, some sounds; in one we hear the voice of a bird hovering in the air, in the other we listen to the thunder of the plume: the eloquence of Christmas Evans was of the latter order.

We have remarked it before,-there is a singular parable-loving instinct in Wales. Its most popular traditional, and prose literature, is imbued with it; the "Mabinogion," the juvenile treasures of Welsh legend, corresponding to the Grimm of Germany, and the other great Teutonic and Norse legends, but wholly unlike them, prove this. But we are told that the most grand prose work in Wales, of modern date, and, at the same time, the most pre-eminently popular, is the "Sleeping Bard," by Elis Wyn. He was a High Church clergyman, and wrote this extraordinary allegory at the commencement of the last century. Christmas Evans must have known it, have known it well. It portrays a series of visions, and if Mr. Borrow's testimony may be relied upon, they are thoroughly Dantesque. He says, "It is a singular mixture of the sublime, and the coa.r.s.e, the terrible, and the ludicrous, of religion, and levity, and combines Milton, Bunyan, and Quevedo."

This is immense praise. The Vision of the World, the first portion, leads the traveller down the streets of Pride, Pleasure, and Lucre; but in the distance is a cross street, little and mean, in comparison with the others, but clean, and neat, and on a higher foundation than the other streets; it runs upwards, towards the east; they sink downwards, towards the north-this is the street True Religion. This is very much in the style of Christmas Evans, and so also is the vision of Death, the vision of Perdition, and the vision of h.e.l.l. This singular poem appears to have been exceedingly popular in Wales when Christmas Evans was young.

But our preacher has often been called the Bunyan of Wales-the Bunyan of the pulpit. In some measure, the epithet does designate him; he was a great master of parabolic similitude, and comparison. This is a kind of preaching ever eminently popular with the mult.i.tude; it requires rather a redundancy of fancy, than imagination-perhaps a mind considerably disciplined, and educated would be unable to indulge in such exercises-a self-possession, balanced by ignorance of many of the canons of taste, or utterly oblivious, and careless of them; for this is a kind of teaching of which we hear very little. Now we have not one preacher in England who would, perhaps, dare to use, or who could use well, the parabolic style. This was the especial power of Christmas Evans. He excelled in personification; he would seem frequently to have been mastered by this faculty. The abstraction of thought, the disembodied phantoms of another world, came clothed in form, and feature, and colour; at his bidding they came-

"Ghostly shapes Met him at noontide; Fear, and trembling Hope, Silence, and Foresight; Death, the skeleton, And Time, the shadow."

Thus, he frequently astounded his congregations, not merely by pouring round his subject the varied hues of light, or s.p.a.ce, but by giving to the eye defined shapes, and realizations. We do not wonder to hear him say, "If I only entered the pulpit, I felt raised, as it were, to Paradise, above my afflictions, until I forgot my adversity; yea, I felt my mountain strong. I said to a brother once, 'Brother, the doctrine, the confidence, and strength I feel, will make persons dance with joy in some parts of Wales.' 'Yea, brother,' said he, with tears flowing from his eyes." He was visited by remarkable dreams. Once, previous to a time of great refreshing, he dreamt:-

"He thought he was in the church at Caerphilly, and found many harps hanging round the pulpit, wrapped in coverings of green. 'Then,' said he, 'I will take down the harps of heaven in this place.' In removing the covering, he found the ark of the covenant, inscribed with the name of Jehovah. Then he cried, 'Brethren, the Lord has come to us, according to His promise, and in answer to our prayers.'" In that very place, he shortly afterwards had the satisfaction of receiving one hundred and forty converts into the Church, as the fruit of his ministry.

As we have said, nothing can well ill.u.s.trate, on paper, the power of the orator's speech, but the following may serve, as, in some measure, ill.u.s.trating his method:-

"THE GOSPEL MOULD.

"I compare such preachers to a miner, who should go to the quarry where he raised the ore, and, taking his sledge in his hand, should endeavour to form bars of iron of the ore in its rough state, without a furnace to melt it, or a rolling mill to roll it out, or moulds to cast the metal, and conform the casts to their patterns. The Gospel is like a form, or mould, and sinners are to be melted, as it were, and cast into it. 'But ye have obeyed from the heart that form of doctrine which was delivered you,' or into which you were delivered, as is the marginal reading, so that your hearts ran into the mould.

Evangelical preachers have, in the name of Christ, a mould, or form to cast the minds of men into; as Solomon the vessels of the temple.

The Sadducees and Pharisees had their forms, and legal preachers have their forms; but evangelical preachers should bring with them the 'form of sound words,' so that, if the hearers believe, or are melted into it, Christ may be formed in their hearts,-then they will be as born of the truth, and the image of the truth will appear in their sentiments, and experience, and in their conduct in the Church, in the family, and in the neighbourhood. Preachers without the mould are all those who do not preach all the points of the Gospel of the Grace of G.o.d."

We will now present several extracts, derived from a variety of sources, happily ill.u.s.trating the general character of his sermons.

"SAUL OF TARSUS AND HIS SEVEN SHIPS.

"Saul of Tarsus was once a thriving merchant and an extensive ship-owner; he had seven vessels of his own, the names of which were-1. Circ.u.mcised the Eighth Day; 2. Of the Stock of Israel; 3.

Of the Tribe of Benjamin; 4. A Hebrew of the Hebrews; 5. As touching the Law, a Pharisee; 6. Concerning Zeal, persecuting the Church. The seventh was a man-of-war, with which he one day set out from the port of Jerusalem, well supplied with ammunition from the a.r.s.enal of the Chief Priest, with a view to destroy a small port at Damascus. He was wonderfully confident, and breathed out threatenings and slaughter. But he had not got far from port before the Gospel Ship, with Jesus Christ Himself as Commander on board, hove in sight, and threw such a sh.e.l.l among the merchant's fleet that all his ships were instantly on fire. The commotion was tremendous, and there was such a volume of smoke that Paul could not see the sun at noon. While the ships were fast sinking, the Gospel Commander mercifully gave orders that the perishing merchant should be taken on board. 'Saul, Saul, what has become of all thy ships?' 'They are all on fire.' 'What wilt thou do now?' 'Oh that I may be found in Him, not having my own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of G.o.d. by faith.'"

"THE MISPLACED BONE.

"Let every one keep his own place, that there be no schism in the body. There arose a fierce contention in the human body; every member sought another place than the one it found itself in, and was fitted for. After much controversy, it was agreed to refer the whole matter to one whose name was Solomon Wise-in-his-own-conceit. He was to arrange, and adjust the whole business, and to place every bone in its proper position. He received the appointment gladly, and was filled with joy, and confidence. He commenced with finding a place for himself. His proper post was the heel; but where do you think he found it? He must needs be the golden bowl in which the brains were deposited. The natural consequences followed. The coa.r.s.e heel bone was not of the right quality, nor of the suitable dimensions to contain the brains, nor could the vessel intended for that purpose form a useful, or comely part of the foot. Disorder ensued in foot, head, face, legs, and arms. By the time Solomon Wise-in-his-own-conceit had reconstructed the body, it could neither walk, nor speak, nor smell, nor hear, nor see. The body was, moreover, filled with intolerable agony, and could find no rest, every bone crying for restoration to its own place, that is to say, every one but the heel-bone; that was mightily pleased to be in the head, and to have the custody of the brains. Sin has introduced similar disorder amongst men, and even amongst professors of religion, and into congregations. 'Let every one keep his own place, that there be no schism in the body.' The body can do much, can bear heavy burdens, all its parts being in their own positions. Even so in the Church; much good can be done by every member keeping and filling his own place without high-mindedness."

"THE MAN IN THE HOUSE OF STEEL.

"A man in a trance saw himself locked up in a house of steel, through the walls of which, as through walls of gla.s.s, he could see his enemies a.s.sailing him with swords, spears, and bayonets; but his life was safe, for his fortress was locked within. So is the Christian secure amid the a.s.saults of the world. His 'life is hid with Christ in G.o.d.'

"The Psalmist prayed, 'When my heart is overwhelmed within me, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.' Imagine a man seated on a lofty rock in the midst of the sea, where he has everything necessary for his support, shelter, safety, and comfort. The billows heave and break beneath him, and the hungry monsters of the deep wait to devour him; but he is on high, above the rage of the former, and the reach of the latter. Such is the security of faith.

"But why need I mention the rock, and the steel house? for the peace that is in Christ is a tower ten thousand times stronger, and a refuge ten thousand times safer. Behold the disciples of Jesus exposed to famine, nakedness, peril, and sword-incarcerated in dungeons; thrown to wild beasts; consumed in the fire; sawn asunder; cruelly mocked, and scourged; driven from friends, and home, to wander among the mountains, and lodge in dens, and caves of the earth; being dest.i.tute, afflicted, tormented; sorrowful, but always rejoicing; cast down, but not destroyed; an ocean of peace within, which swallows up all their sufferings.

"'Neither death,' with all its terrors; 'nor life,' with all its allurements; 'nor things present,' with all their pleasure, 'nor things to come,' with all their promise; 'nor height' of prosperity; 'nor depth' of adversity; 'nor angels' of evil; 'nor princ.i.p.alities'

of darkness; 'shall be able to separate us from the love of G.o.d which is in Christ Jesus.' 'G.o.d is our refuge, and strength; a very present help in trouble. Therefore will we not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea-though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.' This is the language of strong faith in the peace of Christ. How is it with you amid such turmoil, and commotion? Is all peaceful within? Do you feel secure in the name of the Lord, as in a strong fortress, as in a city well supplied, and defended?

"'There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of G.o.d, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most high. G.o.d is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved. G.o.d shall help her, and that right early.' 'Unto the upright, there ariseth light in the darkness.' The bright and morning star, shining upon their pathway, cheers them in their journey home to their Father's house. And when they come to pa.s.s over Jordan, the Sun of Righteousness shall have risen upon them, with healing in His wings. Already they see the tops of the mountains of immortality, gilded with his beams, beyond the valley of the shadow of death. Behold, yonder, old Simeon hoisting his sails, and saying, 'Lord, now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word; for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation.' Such is the peace of Jesus, sealed to all them that believe by the blood of His cross.

"When we walk through the field of battle, slippery with blood, and strewn with the bodies of the slain-when we hear the shrieks, and the groans of the wounded, and the dying-when we see the country wasted, cities burned, houses pillaged, widows, and orphans wailing in the track of the victorious army, we cannot help exclaiming, 'Oh, what a blessing is peace!' When we are obliged to witness family turmoils, and strifes-when we see parents, and children, brothers, and sisters, masters, and servants, husbands, and wives, contending with each other like tigers-we retire as from a smoky house, and exclaim as we go, 'Oh, what a blessing is peace!' When duty calls us into that church, where envy, and malice prevail, and the spirit of harmony is supplanted by discord, and contention-when we see brethren, who ought to be bound together in love, full of pride, hatred, confusion, and every evil work-we quit the unhallowed scene with painful feelings of repulsion, repeating the exclamation, 'Oh, what a blessing is peace!'

"But how much more precious in the case of the awakened sinner! See him standing, terror-stricken, before Sinai. Thunders roll above him-lightnings flash around him-the earth trembles beneath him, as if ready to open her mouth, and swallow him up. The sound of the trumpet rings through his soul, 'Guilty! guilty! guilty!' Pale and trembling, he looks eagerly around him, and sees nothing but revelations of wrath. Overwhelmed with fear, and dismay, he cries out-'O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me! What shall I do?' A voice reaches his ear, penetrates his heart-'Behold the Lamb of G.o.d, that taketh away the sin of the world!' He turns his eyes to Calvary. Wondrous vision! Emmanuel expiring upon the cross! the sinner's Subst.i.tute satisfying the demand of the law against the sinner! Now all his fears are hushed, and rivers of peace flow into his soul. This is the peace of Christ.

"How precious is this peace, amid all the dark vicissitudes of life!

How invaluable this jewel, through all the dangers of the wilderness!

How cheering to know that Jesus, who hath loved us even unto death, is the pilot of our perilous voyage; that He rules the winds, and the waves, and can hush them to silence at His will, and bring the frailest bark of faith to the desired haven! Trusting where he cannot trace his Master's footsteps, the disciple is joyful amid the darkest dispensations of Divine Providence; turning all his sorrows into songs, and all his tribulations into triumphs. 'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee.'"

"THE PARABLE OF THE CHURCH AS AN ARK AMONG THE BULRUSHES OF THE NILE.

"I see an ark of bulrushes, daubed with slime, and pitch, placed on the banks of the Nile, which swarmed with fierce crocodiles.

Pharaoh's daughter espies it, and sends her maidens to find out what there can be in it. Little Moses was there, with a face of miraculous beauty, to charm the princess of Egypt. She determined to adopt him as her son. Behold, a great wonder. On the brink of the river, where the three great crocodiles-the Devil, Sin, and Death-have devoured their millions, there lay those who it was seen, before the foundation of the world, would be adopted into the court of heaven. The Gospel comes forth like a royal princess, with pardon in her hand, and mercy in her eye; and hastening with her handmaidens, she glances at the thousands asleep in the perils of sin. They had favour in her sight, and she sent for her maidens, called Justification, and Sanctification, to train them for the inheritance of the saints."