Chapter Three

Chapter 3.
The Last Month

January 1892 On the first morning of January, 1892, Mr. Spurgeon gave the delightful address which occupies the preceding pages. "Great mercy," he said, "has hung up a veil between us and the future: and there let it hang." None who heard that address, and but few who read it as it was reproduced in the February number of The Sword and Trowel, thought that the immediate future would be for us so heavy with trial, or for him so bright with joy.

On the last day of the same memorable month of January, the dearly-loved speaker, who uttered such wise and weighty words, "fell asleep in Jesus." During the darkness the news flashed round the world, and when February dawned, millions of hearts were saddened to learn that C. H. Spurgeon lived on earth no more.

Many friends will like to know how that last month on earth was spent; and by means of a diary, begun by Mr. Spurgeon, and continued under his direction, much interesting information can be given. In future numbers of The Sword and the Trowel, "Mr. Spurgeon's Last Drives at Menton" will be described, with illustrations prepared from photographs, taken either under his personal supervision, or by his special request. The frontispiece of the present volume will be a peculiarly sacred souvenir of the sunny South, for Mr. Spurgeon is there represented as he appeared as late as January 8th, when this portrait, the last that was ever taken of him, was secured by his friend, Mr. W. C. Houghton. A pathetic interest must ever be attached to this picture, which will be treasured by all his friends, as a parting memento.

Mrs. C. H. Spurgeon. On the first Sabbath evening in January, most of the guests in the Hotel Beau Rivage remained downstairs in the salon after dinner. Mrs. Spurgeon played the piano, while the friends sang some of her favourite hymns from Sacred Songs and Solos, and Mr. Spurgeon closed the engagements of the evening with a prayer that will be long remembered by all who were present.

Jan. 9—Mr. Spurgeon completed the revision of the MS. of sermon on Psalms 105:37, "A Stanza of Deliverance" (No. 2,241). Never did he revise a sermon with greater ease or more delight. His pen seemed to fly along the pages; and many times he paused, that he might tell us of the joy-bells ringing in his heart, as he recounted the glorious story of the wonder-working Jehovah: "He brought them forth also with silver and gold; and there was not one feeble person among their tribes." How little he or anyone else thought that he would never revise another sermon for The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit I

Jan. 10.—During the week preceding this Sabbath, several fresh guests arrived at the hotel; and not knowing whether all would approve of hymn-singing and prayer in the public salon, the Pastor's friends in the house were invited to meet, after dinner, in his sitting-room. (This room is at the right-hand side of the picture, underneath the lower of the two balconies. Only the top of the window is visible, as the rest is hidden by the palm-trees.) There were nineteen present, and a very hallowed season was spent. Prayer was presented by Deacon Thompson, Mr. S. D. Waddy, Q. C., and Mr. J. W. Harrald. Mr. Spurgeon read and expounded Psalms 73, and afterwards read part of his printed sermon, entitled "Let us Pray" (No. 288), on the twenty-eighth verse of the Psalm. The portion selected contained the three sub-divisions:—(1) Prayer explains mysteries. (2) Prayer brings deliverance. (3) Prayer obtains promises,

Jan. 15.—A day of mingled gladness and sadness—Mrs. Spurgeon's birthday, and also the day on which the rumours as to the death of the Duke of Clarence were proved to be only too true. Remembering the kind enquiries of the

Hôtel Beau Rivage, Menton.

Prince of Wales during his illness, Mr. Spurgeon telegraphed to express his sympathy with the sorrowing parents; and he was especially pleased when he received a telegram conveying the Prince's "heartfelt thanks."

Jan. 17.—This afternoon, while arranging the hymns for the evening, Mr. Spurgeon said:—"I am going to give a short address to-night." Fearing that he was not well enough to do this, the friends who were present persuaded him to read something that he had already written. They knew that he was doing more mental work than he ought, though he assured them that he was only amusing himself, and that it was much worse for him to be idle than to employ his time in such literary labour as he felt able to perform without effort or weariness. He yielded to their entreaties, though he evidently wanted to have another opportunity of addressing the little company! Mr. Harrald, his faithful "armour-bearer", found out, afterwards, what text he had selected, and the divisions of the subject that he had made. Here is an exact facsimile of the outline he had prepared; what would we not give to know what he would have said then upon this topic, or what he could say upon it now?

"The God of patience."—Romans 15:5.

The first hymn sung was the Scotch version of Psalms 103—

"O thou, my soul, bless God the Lord!"

Then the Pastor read and expounded Psalms 103, and called on his secretary to pray. The next hymn was—

"Jerusalem the golden!"

Mr. Spurgeon then read to the twenty-one friends assembled his exposition of Matthew 15:21-28, which

Mr. J. W. Harrald, Mr. Spurgeon's "Armour-Bearer." will appear in his forthcoming "Commentary on Matthews' Gospel", a work on which he spent most of his time during the last month. Prayer was presented by Pastor G. Samuel, of Birmingham, and Mr. Spurgeon announced the last hymn he ever gave out. How appropriate that choice poem, founded on some words of the sainted Samuel Rutherford, was to his approaching end—

"The sands of time are sinking, The dawn of heaven breaks, The summer morn I've sighed for,— The fair, sweet morn awakes.

Dark, dark hath been the midnight, But dayspring is at hand, And 'glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land.'"

His closing prayer was peculiarly impressive; and well it might be, for it was the last act of worship at the last service he ever conducted on earth.

Jan. 20.—Mr. Spurgeon went to Monti for his last drive this morning. (See Sword and Trowel, May, 1890, for his own description of the scenery along the road.) In the evening, his hand was so painful from gout that he went to bed early; and from that bed he never rose.

The following day, gout in the head gave increased anxiety concerning the beloved patient, and from that time until the end, it was needful that he should be lovingly attended and carefully nursed both day and night. This service was most cheerfully and willingly rendered. No one anticipated that the illness would assume such a terrible form, although the dear sufferer assured those around him that his head ached just as it did when he returned from Essex in the summer, and he feared that he was going to be as ill as he had been at "Westwood" during those anxious months last year.

It was about this time that Mr. Spurgeon said to his armour-bearer, "My work is done," and spoke of various matters that showed that he felt his end was approaching. Still, all clung to the hope that he would be spared, and even permitted to preach again; but on Tuesday morning, January 26th, Dr. FitzHenry was obliged to report his patient's condition as "serious." This was for many reasons, a memorable day, for it was the time appointed for bringing to the Tabernacle the thankofferings for the Pastor's partial recovery. (A full account of what took place at Menton that morning and afterwards, will be found in Mr. Harrald's address at the Tabernacle on Wednesday morning, February 10th, fully reported on pages 109 to 115.)

Little can be added about the following anxious days and trying nights. Dr. FitzHenry did all that medical skill, constant attention, and loving care could suggest; Mrs. Spurgeon, Miss Thorne, Mr. Harrald, Mr. Allison, and Mr. Samuel, were unceasingly, watchful for opportunities of helping the beloved sufferer; but alas! for most of the time he was completely unconscious, and unable to communicate any parting word to the loved ones who waited eagerly for the faintest syllable from his dear lips. He could utter no "dying testimony"; his forty years' ministry made that unnecessary. If there is a regret that he passed away without being able to give any word of farewell, there is also the satisfaction of knowing that there was, on his part, no pain at parting from his beloved wife and family and friends, and no anxiety as to the Church, College, Orphanage, Evangelists, Colporteurs, and the many works and workers he was leaving behind him. At five minutes past eleven on Lord's-day, January 31st, 1892, the beloved Pastor entered heaven.