could scarcely hold one of them. Thousands cried out; there was shrieking in every part of the congregation.' The Holy Ghost enabled me to speak so,' says Mr. Whitefield, 'that several women were thrown into strong convulsions. A quaker, who was present at one of these meetings, and inveighed against what he called the dissimulation of these creatures, caught the contagious emotion, and while he was biting his lips and knitting bis brows, and doing his utmost to stifle and conceal his feelings, dropt down as if struck by lightning.' These are some of the first cases of Methodism. . Modern camp-meetings are usually held for several days together. Tents are erected, and the people remain on the ground, day and night, during the whole time of their continuance. Great numbers are supposed to be converted on these occasions; and the supposed process of regeneration is nearly the same in almost every instance. To use their own language, the person is seized with sudden and sharp convictions of sin, with an alarming sense of his lost and undone condition. This state of mind continues for a short time, when, all at once, a ray of heavenly hope darts comfort into his soul; be feels an assurance, that his sins are pardoned, and cries and groans are exchanged for shouts of joy, and songs of praise for deliverance. More violent cases frequently occur, especially in the southern and western parts of our country. People are thrown into convulsions, and fall down in a state of insensibility, and all the extravagances, which characterized the first æra of methodism, are annually repeated. In the New-York Methodists' Magazine, we have the following account of a camp-meeting at Nashville, Tennessee. The tents were hardly erected before the power of God began to be manifest. There was a great cry for mercy. The altar was filled with mourners the first evening. None of them obtained relief, however. The children came to the birth, but there was not strength to bring forth. At the next morning exercises several struggled into liberty. A young man received an uncommon blessing. The love of God was so powerfully shed abroad in his soul, that he could not repress his feelings. He went through the grounds shouting with all possible energy; and as soon as the first gust of praise was over, he broke out into vollies of exhortation. Convictions and conversions were now almost perpetual, Jehovah himself seemed to be in the camp. The people fell before the word like corn before a storm of wind, and rose from the dust with divine glory shining in their countenances. Nothing was heard but the groans of the wounded, and the rapturous shouts of young converts. It was a glorious time. Hundreds of all ages and colours were stretched on the ground in the agonies of conviction; and though thousands, day and night, were crowding around them, and passing to and fro, yet nobody was hurt; which shows that there was nothing like confusion or disorder, and that the people were perfectly in their senses. It was computed, that two hundred and fifty-one souls were converted from nature to grace on this occasion.' It should be observed in justice to the Methodists, that the more enlightened of the sect disapprove of these tumultuous proceedings; and begin to suspect, that a little strange fire is sometimes mingled with the holy flame, that is kindled within their altars. They, therefore, lend their influence to regulate and restrain within the bounds of decency, what they still believe to be, in the main, the work of God. The preachers, however, protest against this innovation, and insist that they should let the Lord work in his own way.' They relate instances, where an undue suppression of the feelings has produced effects nearly fatal; and, indeed, it is a well known fact, that blood-vessels have been ruptured, and dangerous bleedings produced, by a strong and continued effort to restrain emotions, which are excit, ed on these occasions. Such are some of the phenomena which occur at camp-meetings. They were, at first, variously accounted for, as proceeding from imposture, from the agency of evil spirits, or from the perceptible influence of the Holy Ghost. Wesley referred all the cases without exception to the two last named causes; though he was somewhat perplexed to determine how far, or in what particular instances, either was most operative. It seems to have been his opinion, on the whole, that both agents were concerned in the affair, and entered more or less into every case. 'For,' says he, 'when a strong man armed keepeth his house, his goods are in peace, till a stronger attempt to dislodge him; he then makes desperate resistance, and in the struggle which ensues, the fortress is sometimes almost demolished, before it can be gained.' Satan was, moreover, charged by Wesley with attempting to bring discredit on the work. Like the Egyptian magicians, he did the same things with his enchantments; thus counterfeiting and disparaging the operations of the spirit. The more extravagant among his followers do not consider these effects to be of so mixed a character. The wildest scenes of frenzy and fanaticism have been confidently appealed to, as indubitable proofs of divine agency. They are outpourings of the spirit, times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.' It is in vain to tell them, that the first preaching of the gospel was never accompanied with these extravagances; that the author of our religion always spoke and acted in a calm and dignified manner; that he did not cry and strive, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street; that we no where read, that the first converts were thrown into convulsions; that Cornelius 'fell down' and 'shrieked' and 'gnashed his teeth,' and 'tore his hair,' and remained as one dead,' under the force of St. Peter's oratory ; or that the Proconsul Sergius did so, when Paul was preaching before him; or that the apostle himself, agitated as he reasonably might have been, in discovering by a terrific miracle that he was opposing, not an impostor, as he imagined, but the followers of the promised Messiah, ever went through any of those violent and mystical transitions of feeling, which would have entitled his case to be considered a clear and satisfactory conversion at a camp-meeting.-To all such arguments they reply by referring to our Saviour's practice of frequently addressing his hearers in the open air, by which, they think, he showed an evident predilection for field-preaching; and they quote, with an air of triumph, the scene which occurred at the day of Pentecost, as being in all its circumstances, an undoubted example of primitive campmeetings. The simple detail, which we have given of a few of the cases, which occur on these occasions, is sufficient to suggest their real cause. We recognize, at once, the influence of strong passions upon weak minds and disordered fancies, augmented by sympathy, and propagated by means both of voluntary and involuntary imitation. That these principles alone are adequate to account for phenomena as extraordinary as any we are now considering, is evident from many analogous effects, where these are known to have been the sole and undoubted cause. Many painful disorders, which have refused to yield to the most powerful medical agents, have been removed by merely exciting the imagination of the patient; and various anomalous sensations, actual fainting, and even the most violent of hysterical and epileptic affections have been induced by influencing the same faculty. A thousand facts illustrate this truth, but none more strikingly than the history of Animal Magnetism. Mesmer and Wesley produced effects remarkably similar. The crisis, as it was called in Animal Magnetism, corresponds to the new birth in Methodism, and was characterised by nearly the same symptoms. There were the same sighings and sobbings, faintings and convulsions in both. Both diseases, too, were equally contagious. When one fell into the crisis in either, a great number of others were immediately affected. In both instances, likewise, the poor and ignorant chiefly were affected, while those who were able to observe and describe their sensations felt nothing. Now the phenomena of Magnetism, great and surprising as they were, proved to be re ferable, solely, to the imaginations of the persons magnetized. No fact in physiology, indeed, is now more clearly demonstrated, or better understood than this, that the imagination alone, as a cause, is capable of producing great and extraordinary changes in the human constitution. Admiting this, then, as an established principle of our nature, and making due allowance for exaggerated accounts and real imposture, we are furnished with data for explaining all the anomalous phenomena in question. - We would remark, in the first place, that the subjects of this work are mostly young people and chiefly females, persons of strong feelings, and but little acquainted with human nature. It is certainly rather a suspicious circumstance of Methodism, that its converts are taken, for the most part, from a class of people who would be least likely to suspect or detect a delusion, supposing there were one, and the most likely to be carried away with it. Then the peculiar doctrines of the Methodists, and their powerful way of urging and enforcing them furnish, we think, a sufficient exciting cause. It is a principle with them to terrify those, whom they hope to convert, to fill them with the utmost consternation about the state of their souls, to drive them to the very brink of despair, and throw them into a crisis of horror and agony, out of which they emerge' new creatures.' In order to effect this, they select the most alarming topics. Our hopeless condition by nature, the necessity of regeneration, the all sufficiency of grace, are the powerful themes, upon which they harangue, rudely and incoherently, it is true, but earnestly and vehemently, with fervid zeal and passionate sincerity, and forever recurring to the same topics. They preach damnation to all unbelievers. They unveil the horrors of the invisible world, and pour forth glowing descriptions of death, and heil, and judg ment. They represent God, out of Christ, as a consuming fire. But the Saviour they describe as tender and compassionate, ready to snatch them as brands from the burning. They make the most searching and personal appeals. Thou art the man' often introduces the application of a discourse, full of the most tremendous denunciations. They address the conscience, the imagination, and all the mainsprings of the human mind. They feel and express an honest and anxious concern for the salvation of souls. They melt into tears at the insensibility of sinners to their own danger; and they sometimes actually sink down, exhausted by the strength of their own emotions. All this, accompanied with a loud tone of voice, vehement gestures, wild looks, must strongly operate on susceptible minds. And when a human being is taught to believe that his internal feelings are the monitions of God, and the strivings of his holy spirit, it is impossibleto say, into what extravagancies he may be carried. When the preachers perceive, that they have made an impres sion, they invite all who are in a seeking way' to come into the altar, which is a fenced inclosure, about forty feet square in front of the stage. There are, usually, two of these, one for the men and another for the women, into which none are permitted to enter, but such as are expressly desirous to have their souls converted. Here they are made to knee! down. The preachers and other experienced persons go in among them, and pray with them and over them. They exhort them not to reject the gracious invitations of the Saviour, nor stifle the operations of his spirit. They address them in the most enthusiastic language in order to keep them earnestly expecting a change, and swell the tide of feeling to the highest pitch. Violent emotions must from their nature be transient. Our feelings can never be long kept in a high state of tension. They come to a crisis, and then subside. The sinner, under conviction, works himself into the most horrible fears, terrors, and agonies, till the mind by a natural reaction, makes an effort to throw off its sorrows; and he feels relief. This he eagerly seizes upon as a token that his sins are forgiven; and his imagination now practices the same illusion in exalting him to the most rapturous confidence and joy, as it did before in sinking him to the depths of despair. Indeed, when we attempt to judge of the state of our hearts by our inward sensations, or by any other rule than our general conduct, we are constantly liable to self-deception, for we shall almost always be sure to find there, whatever we greatly desire, or confidently hope. When the work is once begun upon weak or susceptible subjects, sympathy, example, the principle of imitation, will account for its rapid progress among persons of every variety of constitution and temperament. The contagious nature of strong emotions, excited in large assemblies, is well known. This is exemplified in the enthusiasm of theatres, and of armies, and in the uncontrollable fury of mobs. In this situation the very looks are contagious, the fury flies from face to face. Persons of sane mind and sober judgment, placed amid scenes of general excitement, have felt emotions which would easily enable them to understand the madness, which prevailed among others of a more excitable temperament. But to trace the principle to a closer analogy to our subject. All nervous and convulsive affections are liable to propagate themselves among those who witness them, and thus to become, as it were, epidemic. The bare sight of a person in a fit has thrown others into the same convulsions. Disorders of this nature, obtaining at first in a private way, have spread through whole districts, through large schools, and facto |
