Description of a camp meeting by an attendee
Background Notes
A Narrative of the Visit to the American Churches was written by Andrew Reed (1782-1862) and James Matheson (d. 1846), and their book describes the journey of these men among the Congregational Churches of America. Reed and Matheson came from the Congregational Union of England and Wales as deputies to their sister churches in the United States.
Camp meetings were not unknown in the English Protestant world, but they were primarily an American phenomenon. Visits such as Rev. Reed and Matheson's were made usually out of curiosity, to see what the commotion was about. At first these men were not favorably impressed. They thought the preaching was fair, but there was too much enthusiasm in the activities. This enthusiasm then contributed to a state of weariness in the attendees. The author of this narrative did not approve of the excitement and outpouring of emotions that accompanied the revivalist meetings until his own sermon elicited exactly that.
Transcription of Primary Source
So soon as
my kind friend had refreshed himself and his horse, we started again. We were now on the Northern Neck, an isthmus
of various width, and some 150 miles long, which is separated from the mainland
of Virginia
by the Rappahannoc. We had twelve miles
to travel, and chiefly through pine barrens; reaches of land that are so
denominated, because they will only bear pine.
The morning was bright and elastic; I had an interesting companion, and
my expectations were raised with the prospects before me. As we advanced, the land undulated pleasantly,
the soil improved, and other timber of loftier growth appeared. When evidently approaching the spot, my eye
pierced through the forest in search of some indications. We got at last into less frequented paths;
wound again and again round the clustering trees and opposing stumps, and then
came to what I regarded as the signs of the object sought. There were, under some trees, pens for the
safety of horses; then there were carriages of all descriptions, appearing with
horses and oxen, secured and at rest, and occasionally a negro in attendance on
them. Then you passed by a large
log-house, which was erected for the time, to supply lodging and food to such
as needed them. Now you saw, in several
directions, the parts of cabins, made of the pine-tree, and of the same colour,
and only distinguished from it by the horizontal lines in which it ran; and
presently you found yourself at the entrance of all you wished to see.
There were
in lines, intersected by the trees, a number of tents composed of log-wood,
forming a quadrangle of about 180 feet.
In the centre of the further line, in this square, there was a stand for
the accommodation of the preachers, which would contain twelve or fourteen
persons. Behind this were stems of trees
laid down as seats for the negroes, running off in radiating lines, and closed
by some tents for their use, and forming the segment of a circle. Before the stand, or pulpit, a rail was
carried round the first five or six seats, which we called the altar; and
seats, composed of tree-stems, filled up the centre of the square. Within, without, everywhere, the oak, the
chestnut, and the fir appeared, and of finest growth; only those within the
quadrangle were cleared of underwood, and trimmed up to aid the sight, so that
they resembled the beautiful pillars of a cathedral; while their lofty heads,
unpruned by the hand of man, united, and made a foliated ceiling, such as no
cathedral could approach, and through which the blue sky and bright sun were
glancing.
It was now
the hour of morning worship. The pulpit
was full; the seats were covered with waiting worshippers. I approached the stand; and was welcomed by
the brethren. We rose, and united in a
hymn of praise. I had never, in such circumstances,
joined in offering such worship. I could
scarcely tell what sensations possessed me.
I hope I was not void of those which are devotional, but I was chiefly
filled for the moment with those of wonder.
When I looked round on the scene which had broken so suddenly upon me,
every thing was so novel, so striking, and so interesting, as to appear like
the work of enchantment, and to require time fully to realize.
But I must
endeavour to give you some of the services in detail, as you will desire exact
information. The singing to which I have
referred, was followed by prayer and a sermon.
The text was, “If God spared not his own Son,” &c.—The preacher was
a plain man, and without education; and he had small regard either to logic or
grammar. He had, however, as is common
to such persons, an aspiration after high-sounding terms and sentiments, which
stood in strange opposition to the general poverty and incorrectness of his
expressions. The proposition, for
instance, raised on his text was this:—That the gift of Christ to sinners is
the thing set forth with most life, animation, and eloquence, of any thing in
the world. Such a proposition, though
badly propounded, was of course above such a man; but though what he said did
but little for his proposition, it was said with earnestness and pious feeling,
and it told on the plain and serious portions of his audience. He was followed by a brother of higher
qualifications, who took up the close of his subject, and addressed it to the
conscience with skill and effect. The
exhortation was terminated by an invitation to come and take a seat within the
altar. These seats were, when wanted, in
other words, the anxious seats; two of them were cleared, and a suitable hymn
was sung, that persons might have time to comply. Very few came; chiefly a mother with her boy,
who had previously seemed to court notice.
The lad had indulged in noisy crying and exclamation; he was in the hand
of an indiscreet parent, and had not been sufficiently discouraged by the ministers. The exhortations, and then the singing, were
renewed; but still with small effect, as to the use of the prepared seats; and
so this service closed. Whatever may be
the claims of the anxious seat, it was a hazardous experiment, where it was
evident the previous services had produced no deep and controlling impression.
The
afternoon service was very similar in arrangement and in effect. The text was, “Let the wicked man forsake his
way,” &c.; but the preacher certainly made a feeble use of a powerful
passage. It was interrupted, too, by a
noisy and intemperate man, who had found his way hither; yet it was followed by
exhortation superior to itself, and an urgent appeal to the people to come
forward and separate themselves. The
results were not better than before. The
only apology for thus pressing under unfavourable circumstances was, that the
meetings had been held now for three days; that the solemn services of the
Sabbath had just passed over the people; and the worthy ministers were anxious
for visible fruit, not only as arising from the present appeal, but from past
impressions.
These were
the more public and regular services; but other engagements were always
fulfilling. The ministers were invited
by their friends to the several tents, to exhort, and sing, and pray, so that
when they ceased in one place, they were renewed in another. And at all times those who liked to gather
within the altar, and sing, were allowed to do so; and as, when they were weary,
others came up and supplied their places, the singing was without ceasing.
What you
cannot escape wearies you. The services
had been long, and not very interesting; and still the singing was
continued. After getting some
refreshments with kind friends, I was glad to stroll away into the forest, and
to ruminate on what I had seen and heard.
Now that I had leisure to admire, it was a lovely evening. Through many a green alley I wandered; and
often did I stop and gaze on those exquisite combinations of light, shade, and
picture, which forest scenery supplies on a fair summer evening. In all my wanderings, the singing followed
me, and was a clew to my return; but it now formed a pleasing accompaniment to
my solitary walk, for it did not force itself on the ear, but rose and fell
softly, sweetly, on the evening breeze.
Soon,
however, the hoarse notes of the horn vibrated through the air, and summoned me
to return. It was the notice for worship
at sundown; and as there is little twilight here, the nightfall comes on
suddenly. I hastened to obey the call,
and took my place with the brethren on the preachers’ stand. The day had now expired, and with it the
scene was entirely changed, as if by magic, and it was certainly very
impressive. On the stand were about a
dozen ministers, and over their heads were suspended several three-pronged
lamps, pouring down their radiance on their heads, and surrounding them with
such lights and shadows as Rembrandt would love to copy. Behind the stand were clustered about 300
negroes, who, with their black faces and white dresses thrown into partial
lights, were a striking object. Before
us was a full-sized congregation collected, more or less revealed, as they
happened to be near or distant from the points of illumination. Over the people were suspended from the trees
a number of small lamps, which, in the distance, seemed like stars sparkling
between their branches. Around the
congregation, and within the line of the tents, were placed some elevated
tripods, on which large fires of pine wood were burning, cracking, blazing; and
shooting upward like sacrificial flames to heaven. They gave amazing power to the picture, by
casting a flood of waving light on the objects near to them, and leaving every
thing else in comparative obscurity.
Still at greater distance might be seen, in several directions, the dull
flickering flame of the now neglected domestic fire; and the sparks emitted
from it, together with the firefly, rose and shot across the scene like
meteors, and then dropped into darkness.
Never was darkness made more visible, more present. All the lights that were enkindled appeared
only to have this effect; as everywhere more was hidden than seen. If the eye sought for the tents, it was only
here and there that the dark face of one could be dimly seen; the rest was
wrapped in darkness; and if it rose with the trees around you, the fine verdant
and vaulted roof which they spread over you was mostly concealed by the
mysterious and thickening shadows which dwelt there. Then, if you would pierce beyond these
limits, there lay around you and over you, and over the unbounded forest that
enclosed you, a world of darkness, to which your little illuminated spot was as
nothing. I know of no circumstances
having more power to strike the imagination and the heart.
But to the
exercises. The singing, which had been
sustained in all the interval by some younger persons, now showed its
results. Two or three young women were
fainting under the exhaustion and excitement; and one, who was reported to me
as a Methodist, was in hysterical ecstasy, raising her hands, rolling her eyes,
and smiling and muttering. It appeared
that she courted this sort of excitement as many do a dram, and was frequent at
meetings of this character, for the sake of enjoying it.
However,
after disposing of this slight interruption, the regular service began. It was to be composed of exhortation and
prayer; and it was excellently conducted.
The leading ministers, who had been wearied by the claims of the Sabbath,
had evidently reserved themselves for this period. The first address referred to the past; the
effort which had been made; the results which ought to follow, but which had
not followed, and which the speaker feared would not follow. It was closed by an affectionate expression
of concern that they would now show that it had not been in vain. The next exhortation was on conversion. Some skilful and orthodox distinctions were
established on the subject, as it involves the agency of the Spirit and the
agency of man. It was discriminative,
but it was plain and pungent; and threw all the responsibility of perversity
and refusal on the sinner. It made a
strong impression.
The third
exhortation was on indifference and despondency. The subject was well timed and well
treated. The speaker combated these
evils as likely to be a preventative in most persons in coming to a decision;
and he made a wise use of evangelical truth for this purpose. He supported the other addresses by an
earnest appeal to separate themselves, and show that they were resolved to rank
on the Lord’s side. The people were
evidently much more interested than they had been; and the preachers were
desirous of bringing them to an issue.
Exhortation and singing were renewed; and it was proposed that they
should go down and pass among the people, for the purpose of conversing with
them, and inducing them to come forward.
By these personal applications and persuasions, a considerable number
were induced to come forward; and fervent prayer of a suitable character was
offered in their behalf.
It was
already late, and here, at least, the service should have stopped. This was the opinion of the wiser and elder
brethren, but they did not press it; and those of weaker mind and stronger
nerve thought that the work had only just begun. It was wished that I should retire, but I was
desirous of witnessing the scene. Other
exhortations and prayers, of a lower but more noisy character, were made, with
endless singing; favourite couplets would be taken up and repeated without
end. The effect was various, but it was
not good; some, with their feelings worn out, had passed the crisis, and it was
in vain to seek to impress them; while others were unduly and unprofitably
excited.
None
discovered this more than the blacks.
They separated themselves from the general service, and sought their own
preacher and anxious seat. A stand was
presently fixed between two trees; a preacher was seen appearing and
disappearing between them, as his violent gesticulation caused him to lean
backwards or forwards. The blacks had
now things to their mind, and they pressed round the speaker, on their feet or
their knees, with extended hands, open lips, and glistening eyes: while the
strong lights of a tripod, close to which they had assembled, fell across the
scene, and gave it great interest and power.
As the
scenes on either side the stand were not dumb show, the evil was, that the
voices of the parties speaking met each other, and made confusion; and as
either party raised his voice, to remedy the evil, it became worse. To myself, placed at the centre of
observation, this had a neutralizing, and sometimes a humorous effect; but to
the two congregations, which were now reduced in numbers, it produced no
distraction: they were severally engrossed, if not with their particular
minister, with their particular feelings.
It was now considerably past eleven o’clock; I thought I had seen all
the forms which the subject was likely to take; and I determined to answer the
request of my friends, and retire.
I had been
assured that a bed was reserved for me at the preachers’ tent, and I now went
in search of it. The tent is constructed
like the rest, and is about eighteen feet by fourteen. As the ministers are expected to take their
meals at the other tents, this is prepared as a lodging-room. An inclined shelf, about six feet wide and
four high, runs along the entire side of it, and it is supplied with six
beds. I chose the one in the farther
corner, in the hope of escaping interruption; as the bed next to me was already
occupied by a person asleep. I relieved
myself of my upper garments, and laid myself down in my weariness to rest. The other beds soon got filled. But still the brethren were coming to seek
accommodation. One of them crept up by
the side of the person next to me; and as the bed would only suit one, he
really lay on the margin of his and mine.
Thus discomposed, my resolution was immediately taken not to sleep at
all. There was, however, no need of this
proud resolution, for that night there was to be no sleep for me. There were still other parties to come, and
beds to be provided. After this there
was the singing renewed, and still renewed, till youth and enthusiasm were
faint and weary, and then it died away.
Still there remained the barking of the watch-dogs, the sawing of the
kat-e-dids and locusts, and the snoring of my more favoured companions, and
these were incessant. Sometimes I found
diversion in listening to them, as they mingled in the ear, and in deciding
which was most musical, most melancholy; and frequently I turned away in
weariness, and fixed my eye on the open crevices of the hut, looking for the
first approach of day; and in my impatience, as often mistaking for it the
gleaming lights of the pine fires.
When the
sun actually rose, the horn blew for prayers.
To me, all restless as I had been, it was a joyful sound. I waited till others had dressed, that I
might do so with greater quiet. I stole
away into the forest, and was much refreshed by the morning breeze and fresh
air. It was a very pleasing and
unexpected sight to observe, as you wandered in supposed solitariness, here and
there an individual half concealed, with raised countenance and hands,
worshipping the God of heaven, and occasionally two or three assembled for the
same purpose, and agreeing to ask the same blessings from the same Father. This was, indeed, to people the forest with
sacred things and associations.
On my
return, the ministers renewed their kind application to me to preach on the
morning of this day. I begged to be
excused, as I had had no rest, and had taken cold, and was not prepared to
commit myself to the peculiarities of their service, and which they might deem
essential. They met again; and
unanimously agreed to press it on me; “it should be the ordinary service, and
nothing more; and as an expectation had been created by my presence, many would
come, under its influence, and it would place any other minister at great
disadvantage.” My heart was with this
people and the leading pastors, and I consented to preach.
The usual
prayer-meeting was held at eight o’clock.
It was conducted by Mr. Jeter.
Prayers were offered for several classes, and with good effect. To me it was a happy introduction to the more
public service to come. I wandered away
again into my beloved forest, to preserve my impressions, and to collect my
thoughts. At eleven o’clock the service
began. I took my place on the stand; it
was quite full. The seats, and all the
avenues to them, were also quite full.
Numbers were standing, and for the sake of being within hearing, were
contented to stand. It was evident that
rumour had gone abroad, and that an expectation had been created, that a
stranger would preach this morning, for there was a great influx of people, and
of the most respectable class which this country furnishes. There were not less than 1,500 persons
assembled. Mr. Taylor offered fervent
and suitable prayer. It remained for me
to preach. I can only say that I did so
with earnestness and freedom. I soon
felt that I had the attention and confidence of the congregation, and this gave
me confidence. I took care, in passing,
as my subject allowed, to withdraw my sanction from any thing noisy and
exclamatory; and there was, through the discourse, nothing of the kind; but
there was a growing attention and stillness over the people. The closing statements and appeals were
evidently falling on the conscience and heart, with still advancing power. The people generally leaned forward, to catch
what was said. Many rose from their
seats; and many, stirred with grief, sunk down, as if to hide themselves from
observation; but all was perfectly still.
Silently the tear fell; and silently the sinner shuddered. I ceased.
Nobody moved. I looked round to
the ministers from some one to give out a hymn.
No one looked at me—no one moved.
Every moment, the silence, the stillness, became more solemn and
overpowering. Now, here and there, might
be heard suppressed sobbing arising on the silence. But it could be suppressed no longer—the
fountains of feeling were burst open, and one universal wail sprung from the
people and ministers, while the whole mass sunk down on their knees, as if
imploring some one to pray. I stood
resting on the desk, overwhelmed like the people. The presiding pastor arose, and, throwing his
arms round my neck, exclaimed, “Pray, brother, pray! I fear many of my charge will be found at the left hand of the Judge! Oh, pray, brother, pray for us!” and then he
cast himself on the floor with his brethren, to join in the prayer. But I could not pray! I must have been more or less than man to
have uttered prayer at that moment! Nor
was it necessary. All, in that hour,
were intercessors with God, with tears, and cries, and groans unutterable.
So soon as
I could command my state of feeling, I tried to offer prayer. My broken voice rose gradually on the
troubled cries of the people, and gradually they subsided, so that they could
hear and concur in the common supplications.
It ceased, and the people rose.
We seemed a changed people to each other. No one appeared disposed to move from the
spot, and yet no one seemed disposed for ordinary exercises. Elder Taylor
moved forward and remarked—“That it was evident nothing but prayer suited them
at this time. And as so many had been
impressed by the truth, who had not before, he wished, if they were willing, to
bring it to the test of prayer.” He
therefore proposed that if such persons wished to acknowledge the impression
received, and to join in prayer for their personal salvation, they should show
it by kneeling down, and he would pray with them. In an instant, as if instinct with one
spirit, the whole congregation sunk down to the ground. It is much, but not too much, to say, that
the prayer met the occasion. When the
people again rose, one of the brethren was about to address them; but I thought
nothing could be so salutary to them as their own reflections and prayers, and
I ventured to request that he would dismiss the meeting.
Thus closed
the most remarkable service I have ever witnessed. It has been my privilege to see more of the
solemn and powerful effect of divine truth on large bodies of people than many;
but I never saw any thing equal to this; so deep, so overpowering, so
universal. And this extraordinary effect
was produced by the Divine blessing on the ordinary means; for none other were
used, and one third of the people had been present at none other. I shall never forget that time—that place;
and as often as I recur to it, the tear is still ready to start from its
retirement.
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Thus, then,
I was supplied, at once, with a specimen of the three great religious
peculiarities of this country; a camp-meeting, a protracted meeting, and a
revival; for they were all included in this meeting. Of what it has in common with other special
meetings I shall speak elsewhere; but of what was peculiar to it, it may be
desirable to offer a few remarks.
From all I
have learned of camp-meetings, I may pronounce this to have been very well
conducted. The existing arrangements
were such as to contribute to this. The
land on which it was held was purchased as a permanent station; and the lands
around were held by persons friendly to the object, so that they could control
riotous and intrusive conduct, if it should appear. The tents remained from season to season, and
cost the owners about ten dollars each; and if it happened that the possessor
could not attend, he lent his tent to a friend.
The poorer or less interested persons came in carriages, or tilted light
wagons, which they used as beds.
Separate committees were appointed to preserve order; to superintend the
lights and fires; to regulate the use of water-springs; and to arrange for the religious
services. For the last purpose, the
ministers present were the standing committee.
By these means, and means such as these, strict order was kept on the
premises; and the temptation for the disorderly was cut off. I saw nothing the whole time of indecent and
lewd behavior, though many persons came evidently more from curiosity than from
higher motives. With the single
exception I have named, I saw not an intemperate person; nor did I see either
wine or spirits on the ground. There was
a man about half a mile distant, who had made a venture with a couple of
barrels of distilled liquor; but it must have been a bad speculation, for I
never observed a single person near him.
Spiritual
intemperance, too, which is often a far greater evil on these occasions, was
kept down by the good sense and right feeling of the leading ministers. On the merits of the particular methods I do
not now speak; but, if they were to be adopted, I know not that they could have
been used with more moderation or better effect. That the anxious seat was too often tried;
that there was a disposition sometimes to press it as a test; that the act of
passing among the people for the purpose of personal persuasion had better have
been avoided; and that the ministers had done well if they had limited the
services, and especially the continued singing, by which many young persons
were doing themselves a double mischief;—are opinions which I shall appear to
have adopted in the preceding statement, and opinions which ought to be expressed
to make it impartial and discriminative.
But as a whole, I never expect to meet with three men who in such
circumstances are more wisely disposed to pursue the good, and to avoid the
incidental evil, than were those on whom rested the chief responsibility of the
meeting. None of their appeals were to blind
or selfish passion. They assailed the
heart, indeed; but it was always through the understanding. They relied not on manoeuvre nor on sympathy
for success; they trusted in the light of Truth, clothed by the power of the
Spirit, to set the people free, that they might be free indeed!
It is a
question often propounded in America,
as well as here,—Of what use are camp-meetings?
This is one of those questions which must be answered in submission to
circumstances. There may be a state of
things in which I should consider them as not only among the things useful, but
the things necessary. In the
newly-settled parts, where the inhabitants are so few, and are scattered over
so large a surface, the ordinary means of worship and instruction can for a
time hardly be enjoyed; and, in this interval, the camp-meeting seems an
excellent device for the gathering of the people. Under such circumstances, the very fact of
the being brought together, though it were not for religious purposes, would be
a decided benefit; and if it should be connected with some expressions of
extravagance which we could not approve, it is nevertheless not to be hastily
condemned. We cannot conceive the effect
of being immured in the deep and solemn forest, month after month, with little
or no intercourse with our brethren, nor of the powerful movement of those
social sympathies which have been long pent up in the breast, and denied
exercise. But we can understand, that it
is better that they should be called into exercise occasionally, though
violently, than that they should be allowed to pine away and die out; since, in
the one case, man would become a barbarous, gloomy, and selfish misanthrope;
while, in the other, he would still be kept among social beings, and would be
in readiness for better things.
Much more
than this is done where the sympathies are wedded to religious objects; and the
good effects bear even more on the future than the present. Where the camp-meeting is really wanted and
really useful, it interests a careless people in their own moral and religious
wants; and is the natural and general forerunner, as the population thickens,
of the school-house, the church, and all the appliances of civil life.