Dwellers in Gateshead are familiar with the quiet garb and decorous looks of a number of young women, known as the Hallelujah Lasses. On almost any evening one of these young women may be seen at the head of a number of men of the working class, parading the streets, singing some lively strain with a sounding chorus, such as “We will go, we will go,” the words but slightly varied, but the refrain repeated all but ad infinitum. The plain Quakeress-looking female will be at the head of the small army of singers, walking backwards, marshalling the hymning squad, and beating time with an umbrella of more or less formidable dimensions. The popular hymn-singing has much to do with the work of the “Salvation Army,” of whom the Hallelujah Lasses form the ensigns, the captains — we know not what. It is not to be wondered at that these plainly but respectably dressed women gain a large following, and that they invariably meet with a peaceable reception.
Their cause is a popular one, as was evidenced by a peep into Handyside’s Hall, High-street, last evening. Picture, owing to its unfinished state, a huge half-station half-barn like interior. At one end is the platform or stage, about which were seated some one hundred persons, conspicuous among whom, in their unpretentious black bonnets, relieved by white lace caps, or “tucker,” in front, and a long veil depending from behind, were eight or ten of the Hallelujah Lasses. As we enter, a tall gaunt individual is sawing away on a violin, accompanying a hymn that is sung so loudly as to drown the “voice” of the instrument, though the bow is wielded most vigorously in no unpractised hands. This long thin gentleman is Mr Ballington Booth, whose fiddle — the Hallelujah Fiddle, as he terms it — is destined to play no small part in the proceedings of the evening. Presently the hymn ceases, and various gentlemen on the platform engage in prayer which is conducted as vigorously as the violin-playing, the interjectional “Amens” and “Hallelujahs,” being pronounced so loudly that the noise made can only be called shouting. As the praying proceeds the violinist is seen to be busily engaged either tuning or mending a string of his favourite instrument, and when he has done this he has a good deal to impart in whispers to one or two gentlemen about him.
A number of addresses follow the praying, delivered by members, “captains” for the most part of the “Salvation Army,” and one of these officers who hails from Felling seems rather disomfited by the interruption Mr Booth subjects him to, as he is telling how he was treated by the police in his native village. Mr Booth thought the captain from Felling was rather wandering from the point, and did not hesitate to rather abruptly intimate as much to him. The proceedings are next agreeably enlivened by the singing of a lady from Sunderland, who in a sweet voice sang very nicely a pretty hymn. A collection is soon afterwards made, as Mr Booth sings a “taking” melody, and accompanies himself on his violin. One verse of Mr Booth’s “hymn” may be given as a specimen:—
The publicans are crying out
Glory, Hallelujah,
Because the Mission is going about,
Glory, Hallelujah;
But still about we mean to go,
Glory, Hallelujah,
And rout the devil and every foe,
Glory, Hallelujah.
A laughable diversion is made as the collection is being taken by a “man of colour” making his appearance on the platform with a plate to receive the contributions of friends. In order, perhaps, to keep the audience together, addresses from some of the sisters are not delivered until the close of the meeting, but now one of the quietly habited females steps to the front and gives a little of her experience in a way that leads one to think that she may have received her training in public speaking at the hands of an accomplished hero in melo-drama, for she usually makes of one-syllable words, two syllables, as, for instance, “It does rejoice my heart-a, to see success follow our work-a.” The melo-dramatic speaker is followed by another sister who has had some interesting experiences in Lancashire, where the roughs had interrupted her meeting by throwing their clogs at each other and otherwise bearishly amusing themselves. She had, however, by applying to a Quaker Councillor and a Christian Mayor, obtained the aid of the police; and the results of her preaching, she leads us to suppose, have been successful. Still a third sister. This speaker grows most energetic, works herself into a state of considerable agitation, walks about the stage and throws up her arms every now and then in a violent manner. She begins by saying she has heard some people say that the Hallelujah Lasses ought to be drowned; and forthwith she launches into an affecting anecdote about two cats that because they were wild and would not become as docile and interesting as she wished them to be, she had caused to be drowned! Using a similitude supplied by the story, she concluded by speaking about her sins being drowned and washed away. But apart from the infelicitousness (not to use a stronger word) of this anecdote, there is nothing in the addresses with which to cavil. There is a good deal of fighting spirit, so to speak, about them, but this accords with the Revivalists’ title of “Salvation Army.” It is the pugnastic character of the addresses that may be specially supposed to enlist the sympathies of working men, for there is a good deal of the antagonistic feeling in an Englishman.
As, with a short intermission, the “service” that we are attending is to last all night, and we have already had nearly two hours of it, we will be taking a glance round the hall before leaving. It is well filled. The audience is a very miscellaneous one. There are some well-dressed persons here and there, but the greater portion of those present are evidently of the labouring class. There are women with their babes; girls without hats or bonnets, and who with their aprons on and frocks pinned up, have evidently just left work; rough-looking young fellows who, one may be sure do not often hear the name of their Maker, unless it is used in breach of the Third Commandment. Of such elements is the meeting made up, and though the place is very full, admirable order is maintained — except indeed, when the enthusiasm of those on or near the platform leads to wild outbursts of “Hallelujah” or of some other such exclamation. Our final opinion is that if not a deepening and lasting influence is made by the addresses and hymn singing we have been listening to, many of those present might have spent the evening in a much worse place, and after a far less improving manner.