Chapter 89: Some Characteristics—A Portrait Draw From Life

Chapter 89.
Some Characteristics.—A Portrait Drawn From Life A Character only understood by a Personal Friend—Standing alone—Spurgeon's Liberality—No mere Worldly Ambition—No Desire to be a fine Preacher—His Enthusiasm—The Students—William Olney's Opinion—Was he an Egotist?—Professor Matthews's View—A Diligent Reader of Scripture—Naturalness—"Unreasonable Men"—A Reviewer's Estimate—The Athenæum's Estimate—Mr. Medhurst's Reminiscences—The World on Spurgeon at Home—Dr. H. R. Reynolds's Reminiscences.

Those who were most intimately acquainted with Mr. Spurgeon are aware that he had characteristics which were peculiar to himself. Taken altogether, as I understood him, he differed from other people in general things quite as greatly as he did in those superlative gifts of speaking which made him the commanding figure he was among the greatest men of the nineteenth century. I doubt whether any worthy estimate of Spurgeon could be written by anyone who was not personally acquainted with him, and even then one must have been a very acute observer to understand such a man sufficiently to form a correct or worthy estimate of his character and influence. Many who thought that they understood him did not; and some, with the best of intentions, may have given wrong impressions to the world. A man who was too much of a pessimist would never have understood the preacher, and the same remark would apply to one who was a mere gushing optimist. In point of fact, to such as did not thoroughly know him, Spurgeon would at one time appear to be an optimist and at another time a pessimist, while he was really neither the one nor the other. The mental barometer showed great variations; but Spurgeon was well able to act on the advice he would occasionally give to others—not to trust too much in variable personal feelings, which under some conditions imparted too roseate a tinge to the outlook, or at other times caused the man to look at things through jaundiced eyes. Without wishing it to be taken for granted that every view here advanced is the right one, I will make an endeavour to depict the great preacher of the Metropolitan Tabernacle as he appeared to me. Let it be called a portrait drawn from life.

Speaking after the manner of men, Spurgeon was one for whom a particular life-work was appointed; and recognising the fact, he set himself to its worthy accomplishment with a devotion which has never been surpassed. To say that he was entirely unselfish and far removed from anything like self-seeking is to express only half the truth; he was an example of open-handed generosity, and even of self-sacrifice for the sake of the service to which he had set his hand, such as it would not be easy to parallel. In this respect he knew nothing of that worldly prudence which is supposed to be a necessary trait in the characters of those who would make for themselves a sphere and a reputation. In giving away his money in his early days he seems to have made no calculations to keep himself in check, and he was hardly kept in check by those who made calculations for him. In addition to the large proportion of his income which he devoted to the maintenance of the College, his benevolence found ways of expressing itself more numerous than friends ever suspected. It would almost be true to say that he found more pleasure in giving his money away than ordinary people do in spending it. At all events, his generosity found even eccentric ways of expressing itself, so that in numbers of instances the recipients of bounty were unaware of the name of their benefactor. To make up a complete record of what was done under this head would be to insert testimonies from widows, pastors, and students in different parts of the country—persons whose poverty established their claim to consideration. Whether the benefactor himself ever kept a record of what was dispensed in the way indicated cannot be stated; but we may suspect that it was a case of one hand not knowing what was done by the other.

Hence we have in common fairness to infer that to this man the world, as such, had no attraction; in other words, he had no ambition in the conventional sense. If he ever harboured any ambition in this direction like other youths, the daydream was once and for ever dispelled by the Voice which seemed to speak from the heavens on Midsummer Common, and which, however it may he explained, undoubtedly gave a new turn to young Spurgeon's life. That was an incident which the preacher himself would not have undertaken to explain; and it was one of many things which were too sacred for common conversation or for the public assembly. Some will probably be tempted to object that Spurgeon's sanguine temperament made him over-credulous, and that credulity led him to the borderland of superstition. In point of fact, however, he was neither credulous nor superstitious; but, at the same time, he believed with the world's great poet, as he would have called Shakespeare, that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. It is not to be taken for granted that the Voice was understood to be a literal speaking from the clouds; but, nevertheless, a lasting impression was made on the mind, and it was effected by supernatural means. The adventure seems to remind us of what befell the Apostle Paul on his way to Damascus; and just as Paul said to Agrippa, so Spurgeon might in a sense have said to the world: "I was not disobedient to the heavenly Vision." At all events, from that moment the world as a sphere for securing worldly aggrandisement and distinction was to be nothing. "Seekest thou great things for thyself, seek them not!" Going to college might be one of those things; he would therefore depend upon God alone for the Gospel preacher's equipment. Perfecting his oratorical gifts in order to shine as one of the fine preachers of the age might also be one of the "great things" to be avoided; therefore imagination and rhetoric must ever be kept in subjection. If worldly riches represented another of the "great things," money was not to be hoarded; all that was not needed for living in a plain sort of way must be used in the common cause—the service in the Lord's vineyard, to which the preacher had set his hand. With Spurgeon it was emphatically, "This one thing I do," and the only reward which was really dear to him was the approval of God.

Thus the one thing for which the man lived was his work; and all his surroundings had to be made subservient to that. Ways and means, as a personal matter, to which more ordinary people are commonly compelled to give too much of their attention, never troubled him. Nor can it be said that he troubled himself about money matters generally; and in the later years of life, when more ample supplies were wanted for the growing institutions, he probably showed less anxiety concerning the incomings than was the case in earlier years. He was his own chancellor of the exchequer; and whether the balance at the bank was large or small, he never lost faith in God. "The Lord will provide"—the Scripture motto of the Stockwell Orphanage—was no mere pretty watchword with him; it was a solemn belief, of which no seeming ebb in the tide of prosperity could cause him to let go his hold.

Money in itself had no temptation for him, therefore; gold was only valued so far as it could be made to serve the Lord's cause. In the course of his career Spurgeon proved this again and again. When substantial testimonials were presented to him the whole was given to philanthropic objects, as a matter of course; and when the American agents offered a thousand dollars for each lecture of a series that they proposed should be given in the United States, there was nothing captivating in the offer merely on account of its excessive liberality. The only question to be decided was, "Shall I do most good by going to America or by staying at home?" He never went to the New World; but had it been otherwise the money gain would merely have been an additional contribution to the Tabernacle institutions. Practising what he preached in regard to the non-hoarding of money, we may excuse his harbouring somewhat hard opinions of those who acted differently while professing to be religious teachers. I once heard him say of a Nonconformist minister who died worth nearly one hundred thousand pounds, "He must have needed a good tug to get him into heaven."

Spurgeon would not have struck a close observer as being what is called a domesticated man. He loved his home; he was happy in it, while he made the surroundings happy for others; but a man who almost grudged the time necessary for meals as interruptions to his work, and who was often away on preaching excursions, could hardly be regarded as a homely man. The parlour or the fireside was not so much his domain as the study in which his working-hours were passed. He was hospitable by nature, and seemed to delight in entertaining friends; but he was never the kind of man you would expect to find giving dinners or shining to advantage in the drawing-room. In later years what would have been the drawing-room to an ordinary family became transformed into a study—a receptacle for receiving the rich overflow of books from the study. In point of enthusiasm in preaching the Gospel he rivalled Whitefield himself. This was the one thing which seemed to set him all aglow; and in lecturing his students his manner was such that men who were themselves in earnest seemed naturally to catch their leader's fervour. They were accused of imitating the great preacher, and of thus becoming mere little Spurgeons; but if they copied him at all, the best men did so quite unconsciously. The weaker men, who were painfully fluent, were probably the worst offenders—the stronger had before them an exemplar who well repaid them for their most careful attention. They were well aware, as a candid friend once told them, that Mr. Spurgeon's clothes would prove much too large for them; but in some respects it seemed that he could be imitated with advantage. The President, on the other hand, was only ambitious to train a battalion which should extend his influence where he himself could not go. While he hoped the best of them, the best he could do for them or the best he could give them was never considered too costly. Though he did not expect more than about twelve per cent. of the number to become good preachers, he may have looked to the College to provide a successor to himself. There was thus enthusiasm on both sides; and both sides found it to be contagious. There was a great leader to follow; to lead forth against the common foe there was a company whose devotion and self-denial were Puritan-like in quality.

It has been already shown that Spurgeon stood alone, as it were; and he seems to have done so in more than one sense. The late William Olney—one of the most valued helpers, as well as one of the most devoted of friends—believed that his pastor had neither confidant nor confidante after the manner of many other men. This perhaps helps to explain many things which might otherwise be incomprehensible. He unburdened his heart to God; but he was chary of saying very much to mortal friends about the things which often oppressed him and sent his spirits down to zero. Perhaps it would have been better if there had been free intercourse with those who could have shown sympathy, while giving words of comfort. He seemed, however, as though he preferred to be lifted up from the depths by the Divine Spirit Himself, although he was occasionally comforted by having read to him a passage from his own works without being told who the author was until the reader got to the end. The mystery and burden of life appear at times to be too much for such minds to bear, and Spurgeon could not claim to be any exception to the general rule. If, as he would seem to have done, he realised that he was raised up to do a special work, the sense of responsibility may at times have been crushing. Nevertheless, that was a matter between him and his God alone; it was not anything to be talked about in common conversation. Oftentimes when depressed an outsider would not have suspected the fact, much less would this be the case with a congregation while listening to his voice in public.

Many would maintain that Spurgeon was an egotist; and so he was, but he was an egotist sui generis. He differed in his egotism from other people just as greatly as he differed from them in other things. As editor of The Sword and the Trowel he inserted numbers of letters referring to himself, and he allowed people to make gushing allusions to his preaching and writing, such as other editors would hardly have ventured to pass. If you understood Spurgeon, however, you would instinctively see that in this respect he was not to be judged by the same standard as others. Your ordinary egotist acts from a love of self-praise; those who best understood Spurgeon abstained from praising him, knowing that his thoughts were never for himself at all, but were for the Lord's cause. Hence all that was done, that was said, or that others were allowed to say, had but one object—the advancement of truth. The opinions of people weighed very lightly with him when conscience told him that he acted from disinterested motives. Even in his early days he accepted the homage of the crowd with a self-complacency which would have been becoming in a popular sovereign; but this was characteristic. He was quite aware that the eyes of the world were upon him; and he would maintain that it was well for Christians to bear this in mind. If they were the lights of the world, what were lights for but to be looked at? A city set on a hill could not be hid.

What did he look like to the world of fashion? In his Diary, "not very thickly strewn with notices of sermons," the clerk of the Privy Council, Charles Cavendish Fulke Greville, gives a note bringing out the characteristics of Spurgeon as he understood him, though it may be noticed that the man of fashion does not quote Scripture as though texts were familiar material with him. On February 8, 1857, he attended at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens, and heard a discourse founded on Psa 19:12 : "Cleanse thou me from secret faults." This is what he says:—

"February 8th.—I am just come from hearing the celebrated Mr. Spurgeon preach in the Music Hall of the Surrey Gardens. It was quite full; he told us from the pulpit that 9,000 people were present. The service was like the Presbyterian: Psalms, prayers, expounding a Psalm, and a sermon. He is certainly very remarkable, and undeniably a very fine character; not remarkable in person, in face rather resembling a smaller Macaulay, a very clear and powerful voice, which was heard through the whole hall; a manner natural, impassioned, and without affectation or extravagance; wonderful fluency and command of language, abounding in illustration, and very often of a very familiar kind, but without anything either ridiculous or irreverent. He gave me an impression of his earnestness and his sincerity, speaking without book or notes, yet his discourse was evidently very carefully prepared. The text was 'Cleanse me from my secret sins,' and he divided it into heads, the misery, the folly, the danger (and a fourth which I have forgotten) of secret sins, on all of which he was very eloquent and impressive. He preached for about three-quarters of an hour, and, to judge of the handkerchiefs and the audible sobs, with great effect."

We are enabled to see some other characteristics of the preacher by looking at him through the eyes of competent observers who from time to time visited the Tabernacle. When they did not fall into their besetting sin of gushing exaggeration, American visitors frequently produced some very good things; and an article by Professor Matthews, of Chicago, published when Spurgeon had been in London nearly twenty years, contains some passages which may be quoted with advantage. After giving a description of the scene at the Tabernacle and an outline of the sermon, Professor Matthews says:—

"After service we had a pleasant interview with the preacher, whom we found lying on a sofa in a back room, quite exhausted by his effort. He had but just recovered from a severe sickness, this being his second sermon since he left his bed. It is well known that his exhausting labours and burning enthusiasm have begun to tell upon his physical constitution. The sword has proved too sharp even for the stout scabbard. Ten years ago preaching was almost as easy to him as singing to a bird. To electrify, convince, and persuade audiences was a labour of love. Now every Sunday's efforts cost him forty-eight hours' pain. During our interview a gentleman said to him that an American preacher who had heard the sermon observed at its close, 'That discourse was composed in this house.'; Did he say so?' exclaimed Mr. Spurgeon. 'That is remarkable. The text was given me by one of my deacons who died yesterday, and requested in his last moments that I would preach from it. At six this morning I sat down to think out the discourse. I spent an hour upon the text and could make nothing of it. I never could preach from other people's texts. I said this in my despair to my wife, who told me to try again. I tried again, with the same result. "Well," said Mrs. S., "go into the pulpit and the sermon will come to you." I followed the advice, and you know the result.' In this case Mr. Spurgeon must have spent more time than usual in preparation, for it is said that he commonly devotes but a half-hour to this purpose. Only the heads of the sermons are put on paper, all the rest is left to the pulpit....

"Yet if Mr. Spurgeon spends but little time in immediate preparation, he spends a vast deal of time in general preparation for the pulpit. No preacher has drunk deeper draughts from the old English divines, or saturated his mind more thoroughly with the spirit of God's Word. By these means he has become 'a Leyden jar, charged to plenum,' in Horace Mann's phrase, and the moment he comes in contact with his people gives forth the electric fire. In our conversation with him we observed that we would not call the sermon eloquent; it was something far better than eloquence. 'Oh, no,' was the reply; 'I have no pretension to that sort of thing. I love to hear eloquent men, you know, as well as anybody; but if I should attempt oratory I should be sure to fail.'... He once heard a man say, 'If you want to touch my purse, you must touch my heart;' to which he (Mr. S.) replied, 'I believe you, because there is where you keep your heart.'"

These are the jottings of a shrewd observer, and as such are a grateful contrast to the exaggerations, amounting in some cases to actual misrepresentations, which were given by some American writers as portraits of Spurgeon, or of his mode of life. Far more able than anything which had come from American writers were some passages in "The Ingoldsby Letters," which appeared in 1863, when the preacher at the Metropolitan Tabernacle was still quite a young man. The author of these Letters, being a High Churchman, viewed Spurgeon from his own standpoint, and, as has been shown by the extracts already given in Chapter xlvii. of this work, he was struck almost more by what may be called the preacher's common-sense than by the mere brilliance of his genius. Thus he devoted much attention to the reading of Scripture, as well as to the exposition. And yet Spurgeon would have smiled at your simplicity if you had asked him where he acquired his correct elocution. He could not comprehend how a man of ordinary powers and a good voice needed to be instructed in such an art at all. In his case the gift evidently showed itself as a natural characteristic even when he was the Boy Preacher of the Fens, and even more notably from the outset of his London career. Did he not pride himself on his ability even to whisper in the Tabernacle so that those in the farthest corners could hear; while some when standing on the same platform roared and gesticulated until the congregation wondered what the oration was all about? "Gentlemen, be yourselves and not anybody else," was good advice for the students of the Pastors' College, and the President knew how to apply it to himself.

I am not aware that the fact of his being mighty in the Scriptures had anything to do with his being called the "Last of the Puritans;" but this was a characteristic of which particular notice had to be taken by anyone who wished to understand Spurgeon and the sphere he occupied. The habit of diligently reading the Bible, which he no doubt acquired when living under the care of his aunt and grandfather at Stambourne, was continued throughout his busy life. Even among great preachers a man has rarely been found who knew the Scriptures so thoroughly as Spurgeon; and as the Authorised Version of the Bible taught John Bunyan his forcible Saxon style, so did Spurgeon draw copiously from the same "well of English undefiled." In this sense he was an Anglo-Saxon; but to speak of him as being such physically would seem to be a little absurd. He seems rather to have done credit to his Low Countries ancestry by presenting to us a sturdy Dutch build. Physically he might be without angles; but we go wide of the mark if we infer that there were no angles of a moral kind, to be without which a man would hardly show any strength of character at all. In taking account of this great man's general characteristics we have to bear well in mind that he was, above all things, a lover of truth, that for the truth's sake he was prepared to make any sacrifices. At the same time, as an anonymous writer once pointed out, Spurgeon's fervent love of truth may have sometimes had a tendency to make him exaggerate certain forms of evil. Occasionally in his satire he was thought to show prejudice. "He is so intensely real," we also find it remarked, "that, being but human nature, what he does not favour he soon dislikes, and what he dislikes he is not long ere he hates, putting it down as an abomination, and abhorring the idea of justifying it, even that good may come." Then how hard he would hit in controversy; what ingenuity he would show in giving an outspoken reproof, or in offering advice! What, for example, was to be done with a College lecturer whose able utterances were in part counteracted by a trying temper? Spurgeon would be sure to say something to such a man by way of rebuke; but he would show art enough to do it in a way which would not give offence. Hence when the gentleman referred to once more showed himself, the President called out, "There is Mr. ------ again, who has one of the worst tempers in the world, but whose lectures are so good that if he kicked us round the room we should put up with it and hear him." There was, of course, an outburst of laughter, and the lecturer had for the time to confess that his temper was conquered. The naturalness of the preacher was always regarded as one of his leading characteristics; and he endeavoured to look at everything in a common-sense manner. "He is eminently practical and matter-of-fact in his opinions, and evinces a willingness to exchange any nicely-balanced theory for the smallest sound experience, and to sacrifice a great deal of appearance for a trifle of that which belongs to the more substantial," remarked one writer, who added: "He is hardly the man to plant a tree for mere beauty's sake when a fruit-bearing one might well be placed; hence he would prefer ten righteous poor to twenty rich and merely intellectual persons in his congregations." He was ever fond of children, but was not supposed to be so successful in addressing them as some others of lesser powers. What gave such weight to his teaching was the obvious fact that all was supported by his own example. Thus when he denounced money-hoarding he did so as one for whom such a failing had no temptation. A brother Christian died worth a large fortune. "If, when I die, I am worth that amount, consider me as lost," said Spurgeon. "I should be ashamed to die with it in my possession." And his trust in God was unwavering and complete. "Who can possibly take your place when you are gone?" once asked one of those genial persons who "think all men mortal but themselves." Said Spurgeon, "I never trouble myself as to who shall marry my wife after I am dead." The way in which he could deal successfully with "unreasonable men" was apparent from time to time. Take these examples:—"In Park Street Chapel a troublesome member used some unbecoming epithets in regard to the pastor (Mr. Spurgeon) which were exceedingly distasteful to the rest of the members, who accordingly requested him to refrain, and ultimately left him and the minister alone, as the latter would not consent to his being put down. Mr. Spurgeon then quietly held up to the man's reason the result of his persistent insult, which altogether so overcame him that he then and there acknowledged his error and told his pastor 'he was a perfect gentleman.' The other members came back, and business was resumed in a cordial spirit." On another and more recent occasion a cantankerous man, who had a habit of complaining, was thus rebuked by a deacon:—"Look here, my friend, we have but one captain on board this ship, and that's Mr. Spurgeon; and if you don't agree with what he wishes done we shall see that you are cast overboard like Jonah was." Mr. Spurgeon smiled and added, "Yes, and I will ask God to send a respectable whale to swallow you up." The man who thus showed a disposition to be officious was a newly elected deacon; and it was thought necessary to check him in time. My friend, Mr. John De Kewer Williams, says, respecting Spurgeon, "Now we have to estimate our loss, and to be thankful to the Head of the Church for such a gift for forty years." In the course of his estimate, Mr. Williams asks:—

"What was it, then, that made him the greatest preacher of his age—incomparable—that gave him a breadth and depth of influence unparalleled? Had he been asked the secret of his success, he would certainly have said, 'By the grace of God I am what I am; 'and he might have said, 'I did fear God, and I never did fear any man.'

"But as God works by means, we may consider the circumstances which made him the power that he was. As a man he was not commanding, he was not at all imposing, he was not fascinating. He had none of the fine frenzy of the poet; and could not produce it in others. And he acquired no artistic, no dramatic, no sacerdotal graces. His elocution was perfect, but he was not eloquent. He had no taste for art, and knew little of science, except agricultural chemistry, which enabled him to tell the farmers, 'You may use your phosphates and superphosphates as you please, but you will never have a harvest without "The Dew."' Artistically he was nowhere as compared with Whitefield, or the great French preachers, or Cardinal Wiseman; and so he was never a drawing-room preacher; and though the noble and the mighty went to hear him out of curiosity, none of them ever joined his flock. He has been called 'The People's Preacher.' When he was young they brought out a caricature of him and the most popular preacher of that day, and called the two Brimstone and Treacle, and most would have concluded that the other would be far more attractive. It was not at all so; and now the very name of the sweet preacher is forgotten, but the name of the stern preacher liveth evermore.

"So I conclude that nature had done little for him beyond a noble voice, not touching and not thrilling, but very telling, and a tenacious memory, and an uncommon quantity of common-sense.... Then how came this to pass? how came it that he did what no other preacher, lecturer, or entertainer ever did before—kept together a congregation of five thousand week after week, and year after year? Well, two centuries ago, when finished preachers were common, La Bruyère said, 'Until there appear a man who, with a style learned from the Holy Scriptures, shall explain to the people the Divine Word familiarly and with singleness of heart, the orators and declaimers will be followed.' Spurgeon was just that man—'mighty in the Scriptures;' and full of Psalms and hymns and spiritual songs; everything about him was scriptural, and his one business was ever to explain the Word of God, and never to explain it away. 'The higher criticism,' imported from Germany, was his scorn; but he loved simplicity and godly sincerity. No great linguist, he knew full well his full and forcible mother tongue, and how to use it. A very English preacher, most at home in London. So his English speech went straight into the English heart; the feather that winged the arrow of the Gospel. This well fitted his mother-wit, which he was not careful to restrain, which appears to perfection in his volumes of proverbs which he wittily called 'The Salt-Cellars.'" An article appeared in The British and Foreign Evangelical Review for January, 1866, which in some respects well brings out the preacher's characteristics. While making the Puritans a particular study, he avoided their far-fetched similitudes and long-winded sentences. His unique popularity had to be accounted for by a combination of rare gifts—"the logical faculty," a fancy to bring together "all sorts of unexpected things" when wanted, a perfect memory, a voice "ringing like a church bell." It is said that "the whole structure of his sermons is conversational, but then it is conversation through a speaking trumpet. The speaker is on fire throughout, but it is not in occasional flashes of flame that the fire appears, but in the sustained white-heat of the furnace." Attention was also directed to the world-like tone of his addresses. "He has got into the way of talking for the Gospel exactly as the world talks against it." The preacher's division and arrangement of his sermons were also thought to be remarkable, resembling "the art of the skilful angler, which no rule can teach and no study can acquire. Indeed, in the craftiness with which he baits his hook at the commencement, and the deftness with which he drops his line as he advances, we discover 'a fisher of men' who knows how to 'catch them by guile.' Eminently textual in his mode of treatment, his text—it matters not what it may be—becomes, for the time being, the idol of his soul; he gazes at it admiringly."

Notwithstanding all his high qualities, however, Spurgeon was not perfect, and his "faults as a preacher" were detected. He was thought to be "lacking in the warmth of affection," so that he appealed "to every faculty of the mind, but seldom, if ever, to the heart. Neither in the tones of his voice nor in the strain of his address is there even an attempt at the tender or the pathetic." The charges of levity and egoism are also referred to:—

"His is a hardy religion. He succeeds, we doubt not, in healing many a broken heart, and binding up many a wounded spirit; but he is decidedly addicted (we do not use the image profanely) to the cold-water cure. It is needless to advert to the common charge of levity brought against him, often by those who give small evidence of their reverence for sacred things. While, in general, we deprecate the practice of indulging in sly jokes, humorous allusions, and smart witticisms as unbecoming the chair of verity, we have no sympathy with the squeamishness which would blackball Spurgeon merely because, from the very buoyancy of his spirits, he cannot repress an occasional sally of humour, even when speaking on the most solemn subjects. Such as he have a sort of licence to deal in these pyrotechnics, which few besides could manage with safety to themselves or to those around them. Another charge is less easily rebutted—that of egoism. There can be no doubt that Spurgeon is fond of introducing himself as an illustration. That he does so frequently as a mere figure of rhetoric we can well believe; but with so many thousands before him, to whom he is the centre of attraction, he is in great danger of indulging in this sort of personification to excess." As a divine, Spurgeon was not assigned a high place by the writer of the above; for it was not supposed that he had studied the doctrines of the Gospel systematically after the manner of a collegian. I can hardly accept such a dictum, however, and other things which the reviewer advances concerning want of scholarship rather tend to show that the pastor of the Tabernacle was not fully comprehended. It may be true that he often put forward the points of Calvinism more strongly than some thought it necessary to do while holding them quite as strongly; but was it strictly true to say, "Election and free-will, particular redemption and the universal offer, man's deadness and man's duty, salvation by faith, and working out our own salvation are preached upon one after the other with equal force—nay, sometimes are driven in pairs, without bit or bridle, through the same discourse?" Much of his success in England was supposed to be due to his keeping aloof from controversy. As a Baptist, Spurgeon did not strike the Presbyterian critic as a faultless exemplar, and his conduct in the Baptismal Regeneration controversy was regarded with strong disapproval. But after making all allowances for shortcomings, real or imaginary, all impartial critics had to concede that Spurgeon was a prince among men—a model of unselfishness and devotion to duty. In the monthly magazine owned by Mr. James Clarke the preacher was thus referred to:—

"As real a man as any living. 'There's an honest man in that pulpit,' may frankly be said whenever he stands up in any chapel in the nation. You are not asked to hear him that you may add further importance to his greatness, and help to blow the trumpet of his fame. The ring of that voice is the music of truth. Its words do not come up from the depths of a hollow heart. If he prays, you feel that he is praying in earnest, and with a desire for God's blessing. If he reads a hymn he does it in such a way, if he likes it, that you might think he had composed it for the occasion. When he reads the Bible it is with a reverent enjoyment that appears as fresh as though he had God's Word there before him for the first time. He means all he says to you; he does not deal in superfluities, nor cherish the practice of inflating his expressions to make them appear aerial and beautiful. The most ardent scoffers at Revelation never dare to suspect his earnestness and sincerity—they can only hold him to be mistaken. We could wish that he had a chance of having some half-dozen talks with the sceptics about those great facts which are fundamental to our religion. Few men would have more power over them than he. That keen eye of his would detect quickly the weak places in their evil system; and that manly 'fighting in the front' enables him to deal hard blows and telling ones upon falsehoods which will withstand any number of manoeuvres. He has had a wide realm, and has sometimes risen to heights that are very giddy; but the good, real man is as simple and true to-day as he was in the earliest moments of his career." The magazine also bore this cordial testimony to the preacher's unselfishness:—

"Mr. Spurgeon has occupied a position of so much prominence that 'the fierce light which beats upon a throne' has fallen upon him and his ministry. If there had been any of the too common marks of human frailty they would have been detected years and years ago. Had his vanity been at all strongly marked, or his care for himself undoubted, the opinion would have been circulated that he was 'not much better than the rest.' But none have been able to impugn him on the score of selfishness. He has had opportunities of self-enrichment and aggrandisement such as no other man of his time in similar circumstances has had. He might have lived in affluence and luxury. His income, without a strain, might have been equal to a bishop's, and his children might be the prospective heirs to a fortune. It is true that, like a wise man, he has not lived in disregard of his creature wants and comforts; but he has not shown one particle of care for himself. He has not become a rich man through his own hard work. He has preached and lectured with incessant regularity during some of the years of his hardest toil, and could thereby have filled his own personal coffers with gold. But those earnings, as we may call them in view of his own exertions, have been devoted to the great works which have inspired his energy and kindled his zeal. His chapel has been built, his College kept at its work, his. Orphanage maintained by the offerings which in many instances might have been diverted to his own use. And so it has come to pass that with untarnished lustre his name is kept shining in the list of illustrious men whose names this nation delighteth to honour. He sought not himself, and the people have shown their sense of his absolute greatness by according him a fame which, in its way, is unparalleled in the history of this country." The leading literary journal also said concerning him:—

"It is clear that Mr. Spurgeon cannot only work upon the feeling of his audiences, but can get to the bottom of their purses. He can do more than open hearts and wring shillings from the brethren; he has found a sister voluntarily furnishing tens of thousands of pounds for really useful purposes; but before taking her money he ascertained that none of the heirs of her own household suffered unjustly by her gifts to him. Mr. Spurgeon has won thousands of hearers as well as of pounds. We can very well see that Mr. Spurgeon, having no other church rule but 'common sense,' which he undertakes to supply, is a sort of Pope in his own Tabernacle, and has not been unsuccessful in a material point of view. The secret of his spiritual success lies in the fact that he is thoroughly understood by the meanest capacity. He leaves riddles and inexplicable doctrines to minds that love to torture themselves over those terrible riddles. He deals continually with the duty of man towards God, and he has the art of making men not tremble at the idea of failing in duty, but feel joyously anxious to perform the duty without reserve. Fastidious 'orthodoxy' may cry, 'Fie!' but, to be honest, it must confess that this eccentric minister has been a 'Godsend' to thousands in Southwark and elsewhere."

Mr. Barry Wake, of Crouch Hill, sends me the following, which I am glad to give in this place:—

"I remember very vividly a circumstance which impressed me with his wonderful modesty, and that indicated how dead Mr. Spurgeon was to anything like self-adulation. I think it would be during the seventies when he visited the City and delivered two or three addresses to City men at the Cannon Street Hotel and the Friends' Meeting House in Bishopsgate Street. At the latter place Mr. Spurgeon spoke at one p.m. As a matter of course, the large building was crowded, admission was by ticket, and I remember seeing Mr. John Bright amongst the vast concourse of City men who attended.

"Some few weeks after that remarkable gathering I was asked by Mr. Spurgeon to give a short address at the Monday evening prayer-meeting at the Metropolitan Tabernacle. At the close of the meeting, and just before his leaving the chair, Mr. Spurgeon whispered to me that he would like to have a few minutes' private talk with me in his vestry. I therefore followed him there shortly afterwards. Mr. Spurgeon opened the conversation by saying, 'Now, Mr. Wake, as to the City work you have just been speaking about, I don't want to go to the City again.' I scarcely knew what to reply, so I said, 'I am very sorry to hear you say that, Mr. Spurgeon, and very much surprised. Why,' I said, 'there is no minister of religion in England whose name would induce City men to devote an hour in the middle of the day to such a service as yours has been proved to do in the past and would do in the future, should you consent to renew your visits to the City.'

"Mr. Spurgeon replied: 'I know it as well as you do. But what am I to do with all my other work pressing upon me?—for the giving an address to men of the City of London takes so much out of me, I can't stand it. You will understand me when I tell you that I can't sleep the night before, and I can't sleep the night after.' And said the great preacher as we parted: 'I know I have promised a gentleman on the Stock Exchange to give one more address in the City, but I intend to put it off as long as ever I can.'"

Mr. T. W. Medhurst, previously referred to as the first student, also sends me some reminiscences which bring out in an interesting manner some of the preacher's characteristics:—

"On Saturday morning, May 30, 1857, I was standing talking with Mr. Spurgeon when suddenly he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, 'Be quiet a moment or two.' He remained in a thoughtful attitude for a minute or so, and then said, 'I have my text and sermon for to-morrow evening.' We were standing beneath a tree, in which some birds were singing. He pointed up to the tree and quoted the text, 'When thou nearest the sound of a going in the tops of the mulberry trees, that then thou shalt bestir thyself: for then shall the Lord go out before thee, to smite the host of the Philistines' (2Sa 5:24). The sermon preached from this text is No. 147 in The New Park Street Pulpit. It has always seemed to me that this text points out what was ever the ruling principle in Mr. Spurgeon's marvellous career, and was also one feature of the secret of his success in whatever he undertook. He took no step without God. In all he did he first asked help of God, and then did it, and in the doing of it was blessed. He was wise because he trusted in the Lord with all his heart, and leaned not unto his own understanding. Concerning his every movement it was his wont to say, 'I will not go up until I have inquired of the Lord.'

"In 1856, during the time I was studying at Bexley Heath, Mr. Spurgeon came to preach at the old Baptist chapel. At the close of the service I walked with him behind two old women who were discussing the youthful preacher. We overheard one of the women say to the other, 'Well, I liked the young man very much, but I think I should have enjoyed the sermon more than I did if he had not so closely imitated Mr. Medhurst.' Ever after this incident Mr. Spurgeon enjoyed telling this anecdote at my expense.

"On another occasion I was with him in the vestry of Queen Street Baptist Chapel, Woolwich, where he had been preaching, when a conceited parson said to him in a supercilious tone, 'I think, sir, you should train your student, Mr. Medhurst, not to imitate you when he is preaching.' Mr. Spurgeon turned to me sharply and asked, 'Do you try to imitate me? 'For the moment I felt a little confused, and said, 'I do not try to do so, sir.' He at once responded, 'More flat you, for you could not imitate a better man.' At this the parson made himself scarce, when Mr. Spurgeon said to the other friends present, 'That is the way to answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own conceit.'

"I once wrote to him asking if he thought it was Scriptural to observe the Lord's Supper on any other than the Lord's Day. He replied:—

"'Dear Friend,—You amuse me with your question about the Supper. It certainly was not instituted on the Lord's Day, and if we are to raise such old legal niceties, by all means let us always imitate the Lord Himself, and never commune except on a Thursday.

"'You are too good and large-hearted a man to let such questions bother you. It reminds me of catching fleas.—Yours truly, "'C. H. Spurgeon.'

"Here is a characteristic letter I received from him on my consulting him respecting the first invitation I had to settle in Glasgow and there form a new Baptist church. I was then pastor of the Baptist church at Coleraine, Ireland:—

"'Clapham, October 10, 1861.

"'My Dear Mr. Medhurst,—I have not forgotten you and your request, but I thought it by far the best not to answer, for I must in this instance leave you wholly to your own judgment.

"'I always feel honoured when you consult me, but I hope I shall never lose your esteem by offering advice when I know that I am not qualified to give it. These few hints let me offer:— "'Weigh well your men at Glasgow and know precisely what they intend doing.

"'Act towards Dr. Carson and the church at Coleraine in the most candid and transparent manner.

"'Be quite sure that there is one motive only—and that the Lord's glory—in any step you take.

"'Remember that a man's reputation suffers by frequent removals.

"'Ireland needs more than Scotland the pure Gospel of Christ.

"'Large cities involve competition, criticism, intense labour, and much wisdom.

"'Building of chapels by Baptists in Scotland is awful work.

"'If the Lord calls you to a work He will qualify you for it.

"'Would not the devil be glad to get you out of Ireland?

"'Is there a meeting-house holding 1,500 to be hired?

"'Will the church in Coleraine suffer by your removal?

"'I wish I could guide you, but I dare not lift a finger.

"'I will pray for you. With warmest love.—Yours very truly, "'C. H. Spurgeon.'

"This letter decided me not to accept the invitation. Subsequently, however, on receiving a call to the pastorate of North Frederick Street Baptist Church, Glasgow, I wrote to him again, and here is a truly Spurgeonic letter I received in answer:—

"'Clapham, Saturday evening, July 26, 1862.

"'My Dear Mr. Medhurst,—You know how cautious I must be about advising any removes, for I am sure to be charged with taking you away from Coleraine; therefore act this time on your own responsibility. I would lay it before the Lord, judge deliberately, and act decisively. I have a very strong impression that you will go to Glasgow. I will not venture to say more.

"'You will, I know, quite feel that my love for you is as deep and sincere as ever. I shall ever value my first-born above all the rest. Now I am going to give you a proof of my true love in a very plain remark. I notice that you have fallen into a very bad mannerism in speaking. Where did you catch it? You used to speak roughly, but it was always pleasant to listen to your voice; but several friends have mentioned, what I also noticed, a sort of ministerial tone, a genteel way of pulling the tails of some of the words and cutting the ears of others, till they look like little dogs fresh from the fancier's. Now you must not have a single flaw. You are so good and so manly that I cannot let you fall into these mannerisms. You will do good and be eminent, but this wheel in your carriage, when I tap it with my critical hammer, does not ring right. Just come back to Old John Bull's way of utterance, and be a Paddy no longer.

"'There, don't think this too severe; I only meant to knock a fly off.

"'If you go to Glasgow, the people there ought to treat you handsomely in point of salary. I would suggest, as a sort of set-off to your loss from Coleraine, that the Glasgow church make a handsome donation towards the Coleraine Chapel, if that projected building be erected. I think W------would cheerfully go to Coleraine, and might not be an unsuitable person.

"'Next, in reference to ------'s church, I must beg you, overlooking all shortcomings, to regard him as a brother labourer and his church as one of our fraternity. I hope ever to see all our churches perfectly one in heart. The time approaches for the formation of a distinct body or confederation, and to have two large interests in Glasgow will be noble indeed, if they agree in one.

"'We had such a meeting last night. The Lord is with the College. We only want faith, and that is growing. We will fill the nation with the Gospel, and then send our armies out the wide world over.

"'Big words, but written in faith in a great God.

"'God bless you and yours.—Yours ever lovingly, "'C. H. Spurgeon.'

"If I am not mistaken, the last appearance of Mr. Spurgeon as a preacher at the autumnal meetings of the Baptist Union was at Portsmouth and Southampton. I was acting as one of the secretaries in arranging for these meetings, and succeeded in persuading him to consent to preach. The following is the letter I received:—

"'Westwood, Beulah Hill, Upper Norwood, "'July 2, 1881.

"'Dear Friend,—Tell the brethren that the will of the Lord must he done. I do not desire to preach, but as His beloved servants compel, I will do it at both places if health permit. I judge it to be unwise to put me thus forward, but the responsibility lies with you, and I yield to your judgments.

"'I am far from unwilling to preach, but you know that on these great occasions I would prefer to see others honoured. It was no want of love to the brethren, but a desire to see others preferred.

"'I hold you all bound to pray down help for me and a blessing on the assemblies at Portsmouth and Southampton.

"'I beseech the Lord to bless the Union meetings at your two towns beyond all that has ever been enjoyed before.—Yours heartily, "'C. H. Spurgeon.'

"'P.S.—If I ought to have sent this letter to someone else, please forward it. I mean no slight to anyone.'

"From a number of letters in my possession I have copied the above, as they are of general interest. I send them for insertion in the forthcoming volume as my personal tribute to the beloved memory of my father in Christ, my beloved tutor, pastor, president, and lifelong friend, to whom, under God, I owe all I am and all I ever shall be as a minister of the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. If I were to attempt to give my opinion of the dearest friend I ever had on earth, it would be considered by many a fulsome panegyric, so I forbear, only adding: 'He was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith: and much people was added unto the Lord' (Acts 11:24)."

It may be added that Mr. Medhurst at regular periods made collections for the Orphanage, and these had reached a total of £1,000 at the time of the pastor's death. I give two letters—samples of many others—which were sent as acknowledgments of such gifts.

"Westwood, Dec. 1, 1883.

"Dear Friend,—A thousand thanks. I have been ill and low all this week; your words cheer me. Oh! for a thousand such as you are!

"How many are falling from the truth! The disease is in the air. By this shall we know the elect of God. Yet it makes me very sad to see so many wander.

"Pray for me. God bless you!—Yours heartily, "C. H. Spurgeon"

"Grand Hotel, Menton, Dec. 12, 1883.

"Dear Friend,—You are at the head of a grand people, and you are a grand fellow yourself. God bless you!

"Please let me say to your collectors and helpers that they are my partners in the blessed work of caring for orphans, and I believe they will share largely with me in the reward which grace will measure out to those who care for the Lord's little ones. Think of £100 for the Orphanage! It is a glorious amount. It astounds me, and endears to me all the dear people at Lake Road. God bless them in His own divine fashion, exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or even think.

"I am filled with joy, and my rest is even more restful.—Yours lovingly and gratefully, "C. H. Spurgeon." The question has been raised whether Spurgeon was constitutionally fitted for debate, and whether he was competent to hold his own in argument. Those who answer this question in the negative are probably right. To say, as one does, that "he was constitutionally pacific, and would sometimes prefer to sheathe the sword rather than return the blow," is to misapprehend the character of the man altogether. From the first days in London it was not so much returning the blow as aiming the first blow at what was believed to be error, without stopping to take account of possible consequences. As early as 1855 Paxton Hood compared the young preacher to Peter, adding, "He cannot doubt and suffer like Thomas, nor flame like Paul, nor love like John." He was too sure of his own opinions being right to be a good debater of the conventional pattern; and he could at times say strong things, which irritated, rather than convinced, honest opponents. This would be apparent to friends who in all respects agreed with him in doctrine. From his first coming to London there was a strong tendency to initiate an attack on those who differed from him in certain points; and, regarding this as a failing, many who were sincere friends uttered what they meant to be a timely caution. Spurgeon was at his strongest when, in his matchless way, he simply proclaimed the glorious truths of the Gospel without making it his business to chastise those who differed from him. In regard to the controversy which beshrouded the preacher's last years the Rev. Charles Williams, of Accrington, is of opinion that it was the most regrettable incident in Spurgeon's life. He proceeds:—

"Mr. Spurgeon was seen to disadvantage in it. The great preacher was not fitted for such controversies, and he knew it. So far back as 1881 Mr. Spurgeon, in writing to him, said, 'A little anger costs me so much and is so apt to blaze into a battle royal that it is a calamity to me to be aroused, and an event memorably mournful. "Lord, lead me not into temptation," means to me, "bring me not into a committee."' When the controversy began to wax warm, Mr. Spurgeon wrote to him, 'I thought this business would make me ill; it so worries me. I cannot live in pretended union or perpetual conflict.' Mr. Spurgeon was not a fighting man. He had higher and better and nobler work to do than to contend with men about doctrinal opinion. His loving nature shrank from conflict. They might look into Mr. Spurgeon's heart as Mr. Spurgeon pathetically explains, 'How to balance charity with truth and brotherhood with honesty in these days is an intricate question.' Mr. Williams said he wished Mr. Spurgeon had taken counsel of his heart, but a sense of duty, faithfulness to self, and supposed loyalty to Christ constrained Mr. Spurgeon to utter his protest. The controversy was not to Mr. Spurgeon's taste. Mr. Spurgeon truthfully said of himself in another letter to Mr. Williams, 'I am no enemy, no disputant, no caviller. I only want to do the right thing, and if it should seem to be harsh, I want to do it in love and tenderness.' It was complained of Mr. Spurgeon at the time that he said too much or too little. He was so brotherly, so generous, that he would not name the men he suspected, and, with the hand on the hilt of his sword, he refused to smite the offenders." In reference to the oft-debated matter of Spurgeon's success an American paper said in 1875:—

"Judging from our own experiences, we would say that the chief source of power in Mr. Spurgeon's preaching is its substance. The old Gospel that stirred the nations in the first century is still, to him, as new as ever. Its great ideas sway him; they are incarnated in him; they are an ever-present, uplifting force. Not only can he say, 'I believe and therefore speak,' but also, 'While I muse the fire burns,' and I must speak. 'Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh,' said Jesus; and Mr. Spurgeon has an abundance of heart-power as well as voice-power. Mr. Spurgeon's power in speech is like that of Mr. Sankey in song. Some of the English reporters and critics have been somewhat puzzled over the question, Where lies the secret of this attraction? These, following the crowds to hear, have been somewhat mystified and bewildered on finding that Mr. Sankey is not an original genius or a great artist in the realm of song. But then, an editorial in the London Freeman touched the secret of his power in saying, 'The song expresses the soul of the singer.' Thus melody is subordinated to the inspiration of sentiment. Such, surely, is the power of Mr. Spurgeon; the sermon melodiously articulates the soul of the preacher. His words and tones reveal his inner heart, and thus command responsive feeling. As all his faculties act in harmony, there is no jar or drawback; the unity is perfect. There was a little parenthesis of the sermon that touched us all when Mr. Spurgeon expressed gratitude for his many deliverances granted in hours of weakness and mental agony, when prayers for guidance as for what subject he should take next had been answered. 'Ah!' said a preacher, in view of this allusion, 'he has won our love as well as admiration; he can feel for the weakest of us.'"

One of the most realistic portrayals of Spurgeon appeared in a Society journal in 1876; and some of his peculiar characteristics are well brought out in this passage:—

"It is not within our present scope to dilate on the creed of the Particular Baptists, nor do we purpose to point out the extent of the fusion which has taken place between the Arminian and Calvinistic sections of that community, nor to trace the causes of the decline of the Hyper-Baptists or 'Hard Shells,' as they are called in the United States. Suffice it to say that Mr. Spurgeon is a Particular Baptist of an advanced school of thought, and profoundly versed in Calvinistic theology. In the midst of his early career he aroused a perfect storm of controversy by his sermon on regeneration by baptism, and provoked by a torrent of papers and pamphlets, but held his own against all comers with extraordinary ability. One plan he has ever pursued during his public life. It is never to reply to a personal satire or attack. Not even a statement in print that he had poisoned his own mother would provoke the shadow of a reply. More than this, he keeps not one volume, but several in his library at Nightingale Lane, filled with newspaper cuttings of an abusive character, and takes particular pleasure in pointing out to his guests the virulent attacks in which he is designated mountebank, buffoon, blasphemer, hypocrite, and villain. His dark brown eye lights up with a keen twinkle of enjoyment as he comes upon a particularly savage onslaught, and he actually smacks his lips over the well-known caricatures, 'Brimstone and Treacle' and 'Catch 'em alive.' Praise palls upon him, but the perusal of a virulent personal attack has a pleasant tonic effect. It is difficult to pronounce whether this temper of mind is due to Christian meekness or to utter scorn of his assailants, but the effect is that of amused calmness. In fact, if any man and minister of the Gospel completely enjoys life, that man is Mr. Spurgeon. He has neither doubts nor fears as to this world or the next. His faith is perfectly clear, and quite invulnerable. Possibly this is the secret of his success in swaying the minds of men. He knows exactly what he believes; he has no doubt at all that it is true, and, aided by a talent for lucid exposition, simple and nervous language, a remarkable faculty for varied illustration, and a voice full, melodious, and well-controlled as the stop of a great organ, he exercises immense power over any audience. Let the faith of the listener be what it may, he is certain to listen to the strong, crisp sentences, the apt or sometimes bizarre illustrations, and, above all, he must be impressed by the earnest confidence of the speaker. What is the cynical inquirer to say to a man who, when he is asked—not in public or within the walls of the Tabernacle, but over a quiet cigar in his own house—how he gets together the large sum of money he disposes of annually in his work, answers, 'I pray for it and it comes?' This, be it noted, not with a sanctimonious twang or a dying-duck upheaval of the eyes, but with a straightforward look into the face of his guest. 'There are times when funds are low,' continues Mr. Spurgeon. 'I pray, and money comes; it comes surely. It has never failed me yet.' This again without violence of assertion, but in the accents of quiet conviction. 'Look at these walls and these tables,' said the great Baptist to the writer one day at the Pastors' College just behind the Tabernacle—' all solid, good stuff, and all paid for. I never go into debt for anything. If I have not got quite enough money I wait till I have. It is sure to come.'"

We then have this reference to what may be called the preacher's recreative studies:—

"The vast field of science is to the pulpit orator a hunting-ground for illustrations. One by one he has read up various sciences—astronomy, chemistry, zoology, ornithology, and others—not merely with a desire for information, but to supply his mind with new images. The movements of the planets and their disturbing influences, the mysteries of chemical affinity, the structure of animals and birds, with reference to the conditions of their existence, habits, and idiosyncrasies, have all delighted Mr. Spurgeon by turns, and all helped to enrich his fund of illustration. Field-sports, too, have helped him. It is not uncommon to find him engaged busily over a pile of technical books on fox-hunting or salmon-fishing, deer-stalking or grouse-shooting. His quarry is an apt and novel illustration to light up his discourse. Now and then, however, he is carried away by a love for his subject, and once copied the eggs of all the British birds as a pleasant exercise calculated to keep his mind sweet. He is a strong believer in the theory of ventilating the mind—of pouring a stream of new ideas constantly through it—to preserve its freshness, and to prevent the stagnation not unfrequently brought about in a strong intellect engrossed in one pursuit. In this respect he singularly resembles Dr. Lyon Playfair, who compared the light of one solitary science to a lamp which only intensifies the darkness around."

Such were some of the chief characteristics of this great man as I understood him. I am well assured that he was so thoroughly conscientious that even when he made mistakes he was still doing what he deemed would best promote the glory of God. Some have thought that he got narrower in his later years; but whether he did so or not, it seems certain that he came more under the influence of men of narrower minds than his own was naturally. He was at his best in the halcyon days which followed the opening of the Metropolitan Tabernacle. From 1861 to 1881 was a period in which some of his best work was done—work which will abide. Despite some hard knocks given here and there he showed no lack of catholicity, being one of the most active members of various associations from which he afterwards thought it his duty to withdraw. He was at heart what he had been all his life; but if mistakes were made, they entailed inconvenience in Spurgeon's case as well as in that of lesser men.

One likes to think of Spurgeon as he was in the days of his strength, when he was, without doubt, the most interesting individuality among the great figures of the Christian world. It is on account of the uncommon interest which attaches itself to the man at this period that one may be allowed to show a preference for his first book, written and published during the ever-memorable period of the services at the Surrey Gardens. The fire of youthful enthusiasm which seems to glow on the pages imparts to them a unique charm, while in some measure the author depicts himself. "The Saint and his Saviour" is the book to read, or to present to a friend, when the desire is to see, or to show to another, what Spurgeon was in those sanguine days of his early prime when the wide world stretched before him as a domain to be won by the Church for her Lord. When he had received a few scars in the conflict, and had sobered down somewhat, he looked more to the Second Coming of Christ to bring about the final conquest which was so ardently desired.

Another book which must not be overlooked by those who would study the great preacher's characteristics is one which has appeared since his death—"The Pastor in Prayer: Being a Choice Selection of C. H. Spurgeon's Sunday Morning Prayers." The richness and the variety of these devotional utterances strike one as being almost more wonderful than the overflowing wit and wisdom of the sermons. We see that he not only had a gift in prayer, but that it was ardently cultivated. Thus, the editor tells us in his preface:—

"Mr. D. L. Moody, in commencing his first address in the Tabernacle, October 9, 1892, pathetically recalled the time when he first entered the building, twenty-five years ago. He had come four thousand miles to hear Mr. Spurgeon. What impressed him most was not the praise, though he thought he had never heard such grand congregational singing; it was not Mr. Spurgeon's exposition, fine though it was, nor even his sermon; it was his prayer. He seemed to have such access to God that he could bring down the power from heaven. That was the great secret of his influence and his success." In connection with this subject I am glad to give some notes and reminiscences of the great preacher by my friend, Dr. Reynolds, Principal of Cheshunt College. On two occasions Dr. Reynolds addressed his students on Spurgeon, and in a private note he says, "I have had the two addresses copied and thrown together and somewhat enlarged, and now I put the MS. at your disposal." I give in full this valued contribution:— A profoundly impressive event has touched the heart of the English race during the last fortnight. A "door has been opened in heaven," and the Church of Christ has gazed with wistful and loving eyes upon the lifted and fallen veil which now hides from it the brave and holy man of God from whom hundreds of thousands received the assurance and conviction of the Eternal Love. He has left us. His recorded words, his humility before God, his self-oblivion, his boundless charity, his passionate love to souls, will not fade from the memories of this generation. But his lips are silent.

He cannot tell us what his eyes now see or his ears now hear. These are for him and for us unspeakable. An impressive accompaniment of the memorial services held in the Metropolitan Tabernacle was the well-used pulpit Bible, laid "like a dead soldier's sword upon his pall," a silent testimony to the tremendous power with which he was accustomed in that sacred place to wield the two-edged sword of the Spirit. But it was a pathetic reminder that we shall never again see that sword flash fire in his hand, nor have opportunity of knowing the results of his highest experience. The silence of our dead is one of the supreme trials of life. There is, doubtless, reason for it. Some visions granted even on earth are incommunicable and unlawful to describe. The saints of God have no language or symbol by which they can communicate with us. We must wait patiently, being satisfied with the living words of Him who alone has ascended because He first descended that He might learn our language and know our secrets and fathom the sorrows and mysteries of our life. But when our honoured leaders release themselves from our grasp, elude our embrace, enter in by the gate into the City of God, we can but ponder their memory and repeat their words, and dwell upon the life now hidden in God. Still, I cannot but add that the intense conviction that mastered this servant of Christ did unveil for many the reality of unseen and eternal things. Because he believed he spake. The kindling of heart that followed was a testimony not only to the strange, almost unique, power he wielded, but to the invisible reality itself, to the superhuman life, to the eternal glory of the Lord. On several occasions even down in this quiet retreat, in this very college, we have heard him pray with such extraordinary humility and spiritual force that it became impossible to resist the impression that we had somehow gone near to the veil of the Holiest of All, had lifted it, and, with the awful, holy, precious blood of the great Sacrifice upon us, we had pressed on and up and near to the mercy-seat, and found that the veil had fallen behind us, and that we were for awhile in eternity and face to face with God. The exorcism of fear followed, the courage of self-surrender was augmented, a hope that could not shame us stirred desponding spirits, and all things seemed possible. It was neither his homely diction, nor his wondrous voice, nor his transparent sincerity that did all this. It was God's will to come near to us in these exercises, and we lost sight of Spurgeon altogether in the reality of the Eternal Majesty and the Infinite Love.

It will, perhaps, be profitable to you if I tell you—the present students of this College—of some of these events in the history of the religious life of your predecessors. Twice Mr. Spurgeon has preached at Waltham Abbey, when our entire house was present, and when he took kindly interest in us and addressed special words to us. His text on the first occasion was, "The Israelites went down to the Philistines to sharpen every man his share and his coulter, his axe and his mattock." What fight, what humour, what intense earnestness he manifested in the great battle with sin! "For this conflict," said he: "(1) we all have a weapon to use for God and His cause, however homely; and (2) every man's weapon needs sharpening; and then (3) if we can secure no other means of sharpening our weapon, we may go down to the Philistines to help us; and, for my part, I would make the old enemy himself turn the grindstone while I sharpen mine." With extraordinary force he routed our lame excuses for cowardice, indolence, and indifference to the mighty strife; and he pleaded passionately with our Cheshunt brotherhood to win the only victory worth obtaining—that of saving souls from sin. He besought us to sharpen every faculty, not for the sake of having a bright and flashing sword or fine accoutrement; but in order to fight God's battle with evil and to save souls from death. "You are preparing for the ministry, but don't wait till you have entered it; you may never live to do that. Win your highest honour, secure your best diploma now. Begin with speed, with fire, with learning and love, to save men now."

Once our honoured friend spent a long afternoon and evening with us. No one who was present will ever forget the racy wit, the intense conviction, and almost awful earnestness with which he called for utter consecration, and hard work and entire conviction, as to the truth of the Gospel and the power of the Cross. The flashes of humour were, of course, received with ringing cheers, and the men earnestly entreated to have our guest for an hour all to themselves, hoping for much more of the same kind of healthy excitement and jubilant enthusiasm. I found afterwards that he had quelled all boisterous mirth, and almost appalled some of them with a new sense of their tremendous responsibility, and of the spirit and the methods and motives with which they should enter upon life's work. In his generous kindness he preached in 1870 our festival sermon, and was undoubtedly the power by which one thousand pounds were contributed towards our building fund. The sermon was based on the text, "A good soldier of Jesus Christ." For an hour every auditor was spell-bound with the analogies he indicated between the work and sacrifice, the courage, discipline, obedience, and daring of the soldier, and the responsibilities of those who aimed at being soldiers enlisted under the great Captain of Salvation. The discourse sparkled with illustrations, anecdotes, telling epithets, and powerful appeals. It was not till the whole was finished that we remembered that every one of these, from first to last, had been drawn from military prowess, from records of battle, from the discipline, the manoeuvres of warfare and the shock of arms. He prefaced his sermon, however, with a mighty caveat against militarism. Admitting and emphasising the noblest characteristics of soldiery, "Yet rejoice not," said he, "in your blood-stained victories. If you must have banners, drape them in black; if bells must ring, muffle them." Yet from the pomp and obedience, the self-devotion, and the valour of the soldier, he verily thundered down our laziness, selfishness, and lack of enthusiasm in the great work of setting up the kingdom of God upon the earth. On another occasion Mr. Spurgeon preached at Waltham Abbey one of the most soothing and cheerful sermons I ever heard, from the text, "The hairs of your head are all numbered," having previously expounded with tact and wit and flashes of penetrative insight the whole of the thirty-seventh Psalm. At the close of this service the arrangements were made by which the professors and students of this College should pay a visit to the Pastors' College, and that Mr. Spurgeon, with the whole staff and students of his College, should give us the pleasure of welcoming them to Cheshunt. Both occasions were memorable. On the first our honoured friend was in full vigour of body and mind, and delivered a lecture on preaching to his own students and ourselves with the fire of his best days. Many addresses followed, and much mutual interest was felt. When the return visit was paid, Mr. Spurgeon had been suffering from a serious assault of his physical enemy, and begged that the chief burden should devolve upon others. On this occasion we were favoured with telling addresses by the Rev. Dr. Allon, Rev. Dr. Philip Schaff of New York, and by the Rev. J. A. Spurgeon, LL.D.; and with the view of explaining to the members of the Pastors' College some matters of historic interest connected with Cheshunt and its college, as well as some of our feelings when we had been welcomed with rich entertainment at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, I made the following remarks:—

"A Hertfordshire lane when the hawthorns are in blossom and birds are singing on every tree, rivals any depth of the country-side in rural beauty. These byways have witnessed many concerted actions, from the days of the burial of Harold or of Queen Eleanor to those of the Gunpowder Plot or the Petition of Rights, down to the occasion when the friends of this College brought hither the institution which shelters and welcomes us to-day. They are made specially interesting in this year of réunions by the fusion to-day into one loyal brigade of many regiments, which are equally proud of their home rule, their Catholic principles, and their Christian unity. The Cheshunt students and staff will not soon forget the gracious and large-hearted welcome afforded to them by the president, professors, and students of the Pastors' College. We were stirred to the depths of our nature by the vast temple where so many thousands, for a quarter of a century, have listened to one noble voice proclaiming with surpassing earnestness and variety, pathos and strength, the Gospel of the grace of God; where so many have beheld the face of our Father reconciled to them in Jesus Christ our Lord; have seen the door opened into heaven and passed in thereat. But we were also profoundly touched when, by free passes into the inner courts of the temple, we discovered many wonderful things, as Christian did in the Interpreter's house and the House Beautiful.

"The Metropolitan Tabernacle, like the Temple of old, is a fortress as well as a sanctuary. We saw much storage of spiritual force—not' the ox-goad of Shamgar,' or 'the jaw-bone' used by Samson, but swords of a Goliath and trowels of a Nehemiah—a vast army list, even explosive forces, abundant ammunition, and apparatus of holy influence, which promise high service for our Lord for many years to come. The Christian willinghood, the pure religion and undefiled, of which St. James speaks, the consecrated feeling and incense of prayer which pervade the Pastors' College, must, by the power of the Holy Spirit, summon all that is best, all that is most manly and most Christian to a lifelong energy. May it be so! We cannot feel too grateful that the beloved and honoured founder and president is not prevented by the effects of his recent severe illness from receiving our thanks and our homage this day. I can assure him that bitter as our disappointment would have been if he had been unable to join us, it would be still more grievous to us if he should encounter any risk by a self-denying effort which it is so much a second nature with him to make that it seems he could not resist it. I may assure him in the name of all the authorities and students of this College that in the love and reverence felt towards him we claim to share, and that the work which God has given him to do is part of the joy of our spiritual life. Seeing that he bargains for a small demand to be made upon his strength, I bethought me that this quaint corner of the visible church may be rather enigmatical to some of our visitors. A few words of explanation may help some of you to carry away with you a more vivid memory of a happy day and a cordial welcome.

"There is nothing exactly like the Pastors' College in all Christendom; but I am disposed to think that Cheshunt also is not quite like any other ministerial college. We boast an Episcopalian foundress, early Methodist associations, close relation with the connection of the Countess; we rejoice in a goodly list of Episcopalian, Presbyterian, Baptist, and Independent alumni, and in having representatives in every part of the missionary field. But just a word or two about Cheshunt itself, for it has a varied history which at least embroiders, if it does not enrich, our life here. The famous abbey of Edward the Confessor, the site of the college where Harold trained his monks for educational and evangelistic service; the Eleanor Cross, a memorial of a mighty love that subdued the imperious nature of one of the most doughty of our Plantagenet kings; the house of Wolsey, with its weird dip into the dark doings of the Tudor tyrant; and the whole story of Cecil's noble mansion at Theobalds, where James and Charles held court and carousal, do all add some interest to our surroundings.

"During the Marian persecution, a young hero of the Protestant faith—William Hallewell by name—a resident near Waltham Cross, was one of a group of thirteen who were burnt alive at Stratford-at-Bowe for declaring against the idolatry of the Mass. 'The blood of martyrs is the seed of Christians,' and not long afterwards Cecil opened a chapelry in Theobalds for Puritan worship. During more than one hundred years Cheshunt was the home of martyr spirits and the haunt of ejected ministers. Many efforts—Baptist, Presbyterian, Congregational, Quaker—were made to establish Free Churches in this neighbourhood. A Presbyterian community is said to have originated in the needs of the Scotch servants of the Stuart king. The brave Nazing people whom John Eliot left behind when he sought in America the freedom of worship that he could not find at home during the dark hours of the restored monarchy, worshipped with one or more of these Congregational churches. In 1728 the Presbyterian and Congregational churches were fused into one community—it is a great place for réunions! Isaac Watts, who came to pay a visit at Theobalds to his kind friends, Sir Thomas and Lady Abney, intending to remain for a week, resided in their house for thirty-six years. He it was who preached the marriage sermon on the occasion of this blending of Congregational and Presbyterian forces. Here, too, he wrote on logic and grammar, and produced theological treatises and noble hymns. Here he preached his last sermon, and here some authorities say that he died.

"We claim to have his 'wig,' his 'parlour,' and part of his walk in our very grounds; and though some maintain that the Southampton Water, with the slopes of Itchen and Netley, suggested to him 'Sweet fields,' etc., we are apt to aver that our football field, on the other side of Sir Hugh Myddelton's river, or as seen from our memorable arbour, is the true source of his inspiration. Two years before Watts broke into heavenly song the 'reverend, learned, and pious John Mason, M.A.,' the author of 'Self-Knowledge,' became pastor of the church to which, doubtless, Isaac Watts occasionally ministered. It is somewhat prophetic or typical that Mr. Mason should have here prepared young men for the ministry of the Gospel before our College appeared upon the scene.

"But time would fail me to tell you of Izaak Walton and Richard Cromwell (that foolish Ishbosheth, son of the mighty Oliver), of Christopher Hatton, of Hugh Myddelton, and of Archbishop Tillotson, whose lives and work are more or less associated with this quiet home. One thing more I may mention. About the time of that memorable event to which I refer a celebrated journey was taken through our parish by one whose exploit is known throughout the English-speaking world. A certain 'train-band captain' called John Gilpin, on his wedding-day, rode longer and faster than he intended. 'His wife did dine at Edmonton, and he did dine at Ware,' and therefore, on the authority of no less a man than William Cowper, the hero of that perfect ballad dashed twice through Cheshunt Street, to the edification of little boys, turnpike-keepers, and probably of the first batch of Cheshunt College students.

"Like some of the heroes of the East, we had a history before we were born on this classic soil. We were not grey-headed, like Laotse, when we came into the world, but we were twenty-four years old. I will not tell the oft-told and wonderful story of Selina, Countess of Huntingdon. You all know how a notable member of the highest class of the English aristocracy was brought to Christ and was prompt in informing the Wesleys of her sympathy in their movements. For a while she identified herself with the early Methodists, and opened her several houses to the ministry of her chaplain, Rev. George Whitefield, and that of other clergymen and laymen. Her enthusiasm, her passion for the souls of men, consumed her. She erected houses for worship in many places of public resort; and the story of each is a romance. It is believed that with a slender income she devoted one hundred thousand pounds sterling to promote the preaching of God's Word, and to introduce men of learning, zeal, and Evangelical sentiment into livings and curacies in the Church of England. To accomplish these objects, she originated and supported at her sole expense her college at Trevecca House, Talgarth, Pembrokeshire. There John Fletcher, with his passionate zeal and exalted piety, presided; and there Henderson, a mere youth, but a veritable Mezzofanti in linguistic acquirements, laboured for a time. The Countess was a stiff Calvinist, and, it must be honestly confessed, a female pope as well; and John Fletcher, like John Wesley, was an Arminian; and so they after a time parted with mutual respect and even love. Yet vast good was done. Marked men were educated at this little home of learning and zeal. Thousands gathered at the annual festival to listen to the preachers, and the great movement developed into the Calvinistic Methodist societies of Wales. Mr. Gladstone, in a celebrated essay, directly affiliates to the Evangelical revival of the last century, and to the particular portion of it with which the Countess of Huntingdon, Whitefield, and afterwards Simeon and others, were identified, the subsequent extraordinary quickening of religious life in the Church of England at the present day.

"After the death of one whom I may reasonably and devoutly call Saint Selina, her representatives and trustees resolved to carry the good work forward. In their application for funds, and also in the plan of their operations, they made it possible that the students of this college, at the termination of their college course, should enter the connexion of the Countess, the Church of England, or any of the Christian churches which they might prefer. Their first high, main end was to add to the number of those who could, and would, with all their might preach the Gospel of the grace of God. I have been often asked by Episcopalian friends, How is it possible to conduct a college on such an undenominational basis? My answer has been with MacMahon, 'J'y suis, J'y reste;' or with the logical retort, 'Why not?' The College found itself on this broad, ecclesiastical platform, which is enriched now with the memories of the sainted dead, and after one hundred and eighteen years here we are still. The churches are coming round to us rather than we to them. Serious secular studies themselves have been a bond of brotherhood in every age and nation. The exhilarating life of the College and university has often softened the asperities of social and political strife. The common pursuit of literature and science has often made friends of those who were divided on other grounds. But when the 'letters' that we study spell out the revelation of God, and the science we pursue is the knowledge which is eternal life, their uniting force ought at least to wield an added energy.

"The truths that are most fundamental and vital are equally loved by us all. The intensity with which we grasp this principle leads us to respect the tenacity with which others are prepared to maintain ecclesiastical methods in which we differ from them and from others. To come quite home for illustration, we hold that you can urge our Lord's words, 'Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven,' with as much heartiness and tenderness as those of us who have a different way of showing it. On the other hand, we hold that you can give us abundant credit for relishing and glorying in the sublime imagery of being 'buried with Christ in baptism.' The long connection of Mr. Rogers with the Pastors' College is another illustration of the same principle. We love each other too well to despise the differences which arrest some forms of practical organisation for Christian work. But surely days and scenes like this may open our eyes to the loveliness and breadth of the region where we may labour for our Divine Lord side by side.

"Solemn, serious, inspiring are our conceptions of 'the Holy Catholic Church,' but our theology is immensely more to us than our ecclesiastical order. Deeply as we prize the great generalisations which our fathers in the faith (from Jerusalem to Alexandria, from Nicæa to Westminster) have deduced from the Word of God, yet our Bibles are more to us than any system of Divinity. Profoundly as we revere and desire to study, with all available help, and to explore our Bibles, we hold that the Divine life, the consciousness of eternal life wrought in us by the Holy Ghost, seen in all churches, and lighting up the world, is a more vivid and infallible assurance of the Divine Presence than even the Bible itself; and, most of all, we hold that He who is 'the Life,' 'the Truth,' 'the Way' is more to us than any realisation of the blessed life that we have yet attained, or witnessed, or dreamed of. We stretch forward to the things that are before us, when our eyes shall be fully opened and the veil be lifted, and we shall know even as we are known. We have not met to preach at one another, but to love each other; to review some of the commonplaces, the great things which, by their familiarity, may be sometimes forgotten.

"Apart from all minor differences, there is a wide field of letters to cultivate in common, an immense range of history to travel together, vast mines of thought to penetrate, practical methods of useful service common to the prelate, the village pastor, the missionary, and the class-leader, if we would be 'workmen,' 'servants' of God, or 'stewards' of the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven. If we wish, as soldiers of Christ, to fight His battle with sin, if we would lead His armies into the thickest dangers, and 'cast down the imaginations and high things' which dispute His rule, we must know the mind of our great Captain, con well His marching orders, seek to understand His strategy, measure, and not underrate, the plans and resources of our enemies, and, moreover, be implicitly obedient to His commands. To adopt another familiar illustration, if we hope to take upon us the task of the 'Physician of Souls,' then we must ponder hard and long the nature of souls. We must study with our might, not only in the sick room, but in the dead room—i.e., not only by practical sympathy with human need, but by prolonged study of human history, the nature of the diseases of the human soul, and the reasons of the sovereign remedy. We must know why the nostrums of cupidity and ignorance kill and do not cure. Mere goodwill will not heal disease, untrained loyalty can fight no successful battles with revolted provinces of the King of Kings. Let us take what illustration we choose to denote the nature of our life-work. Each figurative expression becomes in its turn a call to earnest study, to diligent, strenuous work, wisely directed, steadily and enthusiastically pursued. Our college time is so precious that if it be lost it can with great difficulty, if ever, be redeemed. If we stray from the pilgrim path of high endeavour into the byways of fairy or of fancy or of self-indulgence, we may fall into the vaults of certain giants, who will belabour us well for our folly, and we shall not find it so easy as Christian and Hopeful did to escape from the clutches of 'Diffidence' and 'Despair.'

"We none of us call a day like this a lost day. 'All work and no play,' says an old adage, 'makes------.' But there are no 'dull boys' either at the Pastors' College or at Cheshunt; at all events, if there are—I can speak for Cheshunt—it is not because they have 'no play.'" At length Mr. Spurgeon rose to speak. None will ever forget his address. Some of his professors told me that they had hardly ever heard him take his audience so obviously into his confidence, or give so much of his personal history, as he did for the advantage, inspiration, and stimulus of his young brethren of this and of his own College. He was suffering acute pain, and from distressing weakness. It seemed as if he might be delivering his last message. He described some of his deep heart-sorrows, and told us of the darkness and despondency which had overcome him, leading him to tremble lest he might become himself "a castaway." Once in this very frame he ascended the platform of his Tabernacle, and could preach from no other text than "Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee." No light broke upon him until he returned to his vestry, where he was accosted by a man whose face was wild with a terrible despair, yet over which there was breaking a tearful smile. "Why have you been directing this whole service and sermon to me? "said the man, from whom a very devil had been cast out. More of the conversation was detailed in the speaker's own straightforward fashion, which had all the force of pathetic and realistic drama. "Now," said Mr. Spurgeon, "I knew why I had been led down into the very belly of hell." This passion for the saving and healing of men was burning within him like a fire. He was ready to suffer any agony or sacrifice his life if thereby he might win a solitary soul. The words fell softly and tenderly upon us. I have witnessed many wonderful scenes in this and other lands, solemn functions in crowded cathedrals, have seen vast congregations melted to tears, but never felt the sense of the reality and presence of God, the fact of a spiritual world, the certainty of judgment to come, and the glory of redemption, more intensely than I did in that memorable service. His peculiar function in the Church of God was not speculative novelty, nor fresh generalisation of the law of the spirit of life. He told some of us, on one of the occasions of our intercourse, that the highest compliment that had been paid him came from the lips of an open enemy, who had said, "Here is a man who has not moved an inch forward in all his ministry, and at the close of the nineteenth century is teaching the theology of the first century, and in Newington Butts is proclaiming the doctrines of Nazareth and Jerusalem current eighteen hundred years ago." "Those words," said he, "did please me!" and verily no teacher had ransacked literature and history and human life as he had done to supply illustration and proof of the fundamental facts of Divine revelation, and to persuade men to be reconciled to God. His volumes of exposition and homily furnish a vast quarry from which those who believe with him in the infinite righteousness and love of God will be able for many a generation to draw material for their work. So long as any of you, my brethren, can remember, this great star has been burning in the heaven. Be thankful, then, that you have the memories of the past weeks to illumine all your future ministry, and continue to glorify God in Him.