Chapter 16: First Month's In London

Chapter 16.
First Months In London

Beginning of the Work in London—The First Printed Sermon—Spurgeon's Relations with his Brother Ministers—Paxton Hood's Opinion—Mr. Spurgeon's Style—Popularising the Gospel—Resolve to enlarge New Park Street Chapel—An American Divine's Estimate—Mr. Spurgeon and the Pastor of Helensburgh.

Mr. Spurgeon's great work in London was now fairly begun. After a few weeks it was seen that the six months' probation agreed upon would be needless, and hence an invitation to the pastorate was given and accepted. Some time necessarily had to elapse before the great outlying world became aware of the presence of a pulpit phenomenon in a back street of Southwark; the news spread, nevertheless, for thus early the young preacher's sermons began to be sent abroad in large numbers by means of the printing-press. The earliest printed sermon I have discovered is No. 2,234 of The Penny Pulpit, entitled "Harvest Time," and preached at New Park Street on August 20, 1854. It seems that the numbers, as they appeared at irregular intervals, at once commanded a large circle of readers, and this was the reason that, in the first week of 1855, the regular weekly issue was commenced. Not only did hearers in the pews perceive a novelty in the preacher's manner, there was a novelty about the style as the sermon appeared in print which captivated the reader. From the first, Mr. Spurgeon well understood that the heart had to be touched if any good was to be done. As illustrative of his style at this time take this passage from one of the earliest published sermons, "A View of God's Glory":—

"I can say no more concerning God's goodness. But this is not all that Moses saw. If you look to the words which follow my text, you will see that God said, 'I will make all My goodness pass before thee.' But there was something more. No one attribute of God sets God out to perfection; there must always be another. He said, 'I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy.' There is another attribute of God. There is His sovereignty. God's goodness without His sovereignty does not completely set forth His nature. I think of the man who, when he was dying, called me to see him. He said, 'I am going to heaven.' 'Well,' I replied, 'what makes you think you are going there?—for you never thought of it before.' Said he, 'God is good.' 'Yes,' I answered, 'but God is just.' 'No,' said he, 'God is merciful and good.' Now that poor creature was dying and being lost for ever, for he had not a right conception of God. He had only one idea of God—that God is good; but that is not enough. If you only see one attribute, you have only half a God. God is good, and He is a sovereign and doeth what He pleases; and though good to all in the sense of benevolence, He is not obliged to be good to any. 'I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and show mercy to whom I will show mercy.' Do not you be alarmed, my friends, because I am going to preach about sovereignty. I know some people, when they hear about sovereignty, say, 'Oh, we are going to have some terrible high doctrine!' Well, if it is in the Bible, that is enough for you. Is not that all you want to know? If God says, 'I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy to whom I will show mercy,' it is not for you to say it is high doctrine. Who told you it is high doctrine? It is good doctrine. What right have you to call one doctrine high and one low? Would you like me to have a Bible with 'H' against high and 'L' against low, so that I could leave the high doctrine out and please you? My Bible has no mark of that kind; it says, 'I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious.' There is Divine sovereignty. I believe some are afraid to say anything about this great doctrine, lest they should offend some of their people; but, my friends, it is true, and you shall hear it. God is a sovereign. He was a sovereign ere He made this world. He lived alone, and this was in His mind, 'Shall I make anything, or shall I not? I have a right to make creatures or not to make any.' He resolved that He would fashion a world. When He made it, He had a right to form the world in what size and shape He pleased; and He had a right, if He chose, to leave the globe untenanted by a single creature. When He had resolved to make man, He had a right to make him whatever kind of creature He liked. If He wished to make him a worm or a serpent, He had a right to do it. When He made him He had a right to put any command on him that He pleased; and God had a right to say to Adam, 'Thou shall not touch that forbidden tree.' And when Adam offended, God had a right to punish him and all the race for ever in the bottomless pit. God is so far sovereign that He has a right, if He likes, to save anyone in this chapel, or to crush all who are here. He has a right to take us all to heaven, if He pleases, or to destroy us. He has a right to do just as He pleases with us. We are as much in His hands as prisoners in the hands of her Majesty when they are condemned for a capital offence against the law of the land; yea, as much as clay in the hands of the potter. This is what He asserted when He said, 'I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and I will show mercy on whom I will show mercy.' This stirs up your carnal pride, does it not? Men want to be somebody. They do not like to lie down before God and have it preached to them that God can do just as He wills with them. Ah! you may hate it, but it is what the Scripture tells us. Surely it is self-evident that God may do as He will with His own. We all like to do as we will with our own property. God has said that if you go to His throne He will hear you; but He has a right not to do it if He likes. He has a right to do just as He pleases. If He chose to let you go on in the error of your ways, that is His right; and if He says, as He does, 'Come unto Me all ye that are weary and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,' it is His right to do so. That is the high and awful doctrine of Divine sovereignty."

Mr. Spurgeon was so thoroughly well acquainted with human nature that he knew just what humanity wanted; and he preached the Gospel with a freedom and a fulness which had not been out-rivalled since the eighteenth century revival preachers. At the same time, he was most remarkably situated, quite apart from his popularity. In the year 1854 no Baptist weekly newspaper existed in the British Isles, and the idea of attempting to found such an organ was regarded as being somewhat Utopian. There were several Nonconformist journals, however, each conducted with great ability; but so far as my own investigation has gone, the editors did not consider that the youthful innovator was worthy of much recognition. Mr. Spurgeon's friend of after years, the late Dr. John Campbell, was then reigning at Bolt Court as chief of The British Banner; but from New Year's Day to December 31 of that memorable year the name of Spurgeon has not been discovered in the paper. The various denominational gatherings were, of course, held in due course—those of the Baptists, as well as of the Independents, being pretty fully reported; but the shadow of the pastor of New Park Street Chapel cannot be traced. He was shunned by many of his brethren who ought to have accorded him the heartiest of welcomes; and then it very naturally followed that he shunned them in return. The treatment which Mr. Spurgeon received from his brethren in the ministry at this time struck the late Mr. Paxton Hood as being remarkable. "Shall we say 'brethren in the ministry'?" said Mr. Hood, who had the sense to see where the shoe pinched. He had strong doubts whether they really were brethren of Mr. Spurgeon in the Scriptural sense; for he was obliged to add: "We understand they have pretty generally agreed to regard him as a black sheep. His character is good—unexceptionable; his doctrines have no dangerous heresy in them; still he is tabooed.... No; usually the ministers have not admired his advent; the tens of thousands of persons who flock to hear the youth preach his strong, nervous Gospel do not at all conciliate them—perhaps rather exasperate them." In point of fact, the prejudice against this youthful innovator was far stronger than people at this distance of time can realise. It was illustrated in a painful, and yet somewhat comical, way at a country anniversary about this time. One of the most eminent of the London ministers was engaged to preach in the evening; but on hearing that Mr. Spurgeon was to take the morning service the great man at once declined to risk having his reputation tarnished by association with him. Jealousy of another's success is always a symptom of a mean mind, and it seems to be especially mean when entertained towards one who successfully preaches the Gospel. If the elder ministers were jealous of Mr. Spurgeon, however, there was plenty to stimulate their envy. Others had from time to time come to London to be successful in their chosen work; but no such popularity as was now manifesting itself had been known during the centuries which had elapsed since the primitive age. We find it spoken of as "a kind of madness, and a mania, most extraordinary in itself, but the more so because it is certainly difficult to discover on what the excitement is based." Probably the people themselves could have given a more satisfactory explanation than the professional critics.

There was nothing which Mr. Paxton Hood liked better than hearing first one and then another of the great preachers of his day, whether in London or in the provinces. About this time he was naturally attracted by Spurgeon, and being unable to afford any time on a Sunday, he made his way to New Park Street Chapel on a Thursday evening. The time for commencing was seven o'clock, but the doors were opened at half-past six, and to make sure of a place, the expectant hearer took care to be one of the crowd which assembled before the doors were opened. Though this was only a week-night service, the people thronged the building, so that at a quarter to seven the pews were not merely crowded, but those unable to obtain seats were standing in the aisles. Mr. Hood also tells us that, "of course, on the Sabbath the crowd is far greater—the crush at the doors sometimes fearful." Thus popular at home, the preacher seemed to be, if possible, still more popular in other parts of London or in the provinces. If he preached in any one of the largest sanctuaries that existed, such, for example, as Finsbury Chapel, the admission had to be by ticket; but this was at a somewhat later period. In provincial towns the desire to hear Spurgeon was even more striking. Such was the popular curiosity that people would leave their work, or they would attend at any unseasonable hours, in order to see and hear for themselves the pulpit phenomenon from Southwark. When he first visited Bristol, it was commonly reported that people listened with wonder; and that if a building in the western city capable of accommodating ten thousand persons could have been secured, every seat would have been occupied. People began to endeavour to account for his popularity. He was thought to owe something to his enemies as well as his friends. Hence, we find it said, "He is flattered by a hurricane of acrimonious remark and abuse, and perhaps owes his popularity in no small degree to this sweeping condemnation." One of his characteristics was that he could hold his own, and sometimes he paid back his detractors in their own coin with interest. Mr. Hood's sketch of the Park Street pastor in his early days is drawn with a good deal of discrimination:—

"One thing is certain, Spurgeon's back is broad, and his skin is thick; he can, we fancy, bear a good deal, and bear a good deal without wincing.... He is the topic and theme of remark now in every part of England, and severe as some of his castigators are, he returns their castigations frequently with a careless, downright, hearty goodwill. Beyond a doubt the lad is impudent, very impudent; were he not, he could not, at such an age, be where he is, or what he is. We were greatly amazed, as we stood at his chapel doors waiting to enter, to see him, as he came and passed along to the vestry, repeatedly lift his hat and bow again and again to his waiting auditors: there was so much audacious, good-natured simplicity, both in the act itself and in the face of the actor, that we could not help smiling right heartily. It was evident he was not indisposed to appropriate to himself a considerable amount of personal homage. His face is not coarse, but there is no refinement in it; it is a square face; his forehead is square; we were wishing, albeit we are not phrenologists, that it had evidenced a little more benevolence of character. But there is a good-nature in the face—something which looks, even on so youthful a countenance, like bonhomie; certainly it does not look earnest, nor does earnestness, in the highest sense, belong to his individuality. That he is in earnest we do not for a moment doubt; but at present we may doubt whether his earnestness has within it deep capabilities. He may preach after the manner of Peter, but he cannot doubt and suffer like Thomas, nor flame like Paul, nor love like John."

The Old Manse and Meeting House Stambourne

The Old Chapel at Waterbeach

Those old days of nearly forty years ago, when Mr. Spurgeon had just opened his career in London, have been represented as the age of young men; but then men of extraordinary capacity commonly begin their life-work early. It has been shown how this happened in the case of Mr. Spurgeon's predecessors in the pastorate; and at the date in question, people recalled to mind how such admirable preachers as John Angell James, Thomas Spencer, of Liverpool, and William Jay, had all accepted pastorates at an age when others are commonly at college. Thus readiness to work at an exceptionally early age showed the possession of exceptional talents; and some thought that in Mr. Spurgeon's case his impudence alone was a talent. In illustration of this Mr. Hood has a piquant anecdote:—

"Mr. Spurgeon is characterised rather by celerity than intensity—nimbleness rather than insight. He adroitly seizes all things, and adapts and arranges them to suit his purpose. What he is able to receive, he digests well. He gave a most impudent answer the other day to a London minister who came to hear him preach on a weekday morning in one of the large chapels of London. It is probable that there was a good deal of impudence in the brother to whom he spoke; for ministers can be impudent, and some of them, when they like, insolent. 'I can't make it out,' said the minister, 'when you study, brother Spurgeon. When do you make your sermons?' 'Oh,' Spurgeon is reported to have replied, 'I am always studying; I am sucking in something from everything; if you were to ask me home to dine with you, I should suck a sermon out of you.'"

There were those who talked about the young preacher's models; but it was evident to more shrewd observers that he was too much of a cosmopolitan to slavishly follow any mere human standards, although, without doubt, that fine standard of good English, the Authorised Version of the Bible, had greatly influenced his style. To suppose that either Jay or Robert Hall was his chief master was absurd. Paxton Hood professed to have made the discovery that Spurgeon was "not at all qualified to shine in the brilliant intellectual firmament" in which Mr. Hall had had his place; but would anyone now deny that the young pastor of New Park Street was by far the greater genius? To say that he had some of the best traits of Hervey, Berridge, and Rowland Hill might be true; but what was chiefly true was that this man knew how to speak to the common people in plain but forcible language. It was well said, "The popularity of Mr. Spurgeon is to be traced greatly to his homeliness of manner. The people love to see that when it is real and not assumed; and how little we have of it!" The time had come when the Gospel needed to be popularised; and in Mr. Spurgeon the man was found to do it. He cared nothing for the mere flowers of rhetoric in which the representatives of the old school he was superseding so greatly delighted; but illustrations gathered fresh from nature, or appropriated by him during his contact with the world, had a rare charm for him, and they had a still greater charm for the crowds he addressed. The people had found what they wanted, and Mr. Spurgeon's unique popularity was the best proof of how they rejoiced in what they had found. When observers of this remarkable success—so unexampled in all respects—asked of one another whether it would last, whether such a man would wear during many years, the unwavering faith and easy naturalness of the young preacher should have checked any misgiving. As the year 1854 went on, even the war abroad and the alarming ravages of pestilence in London could not hinder ever-increasing attention being given to the ministrations of the pastor of New Park Street Chapel. The newspapers at last began to notice him, while still more conclusive evidence of his popularity was seen in artistic caricatures. The majority of those who ventured on making prophecies lived long enough to find themselves mistaken; but Mr. Paxton Hood very sagaciously gauged the situation:—

"Our preacher's fulness and readiness is to our minds a guarantee that he will wear, and not wear out. His present amazing popularity will, of course, subside, but he will still be amazingly followed, and what he is now, we prophesy, will on the whole remain. For polished diction we shall not look to him; for the long and stately argument we shall not look to him; for the original and profound thought we shall not look to him; for the clear and lucid criticism we shall not look to him; but for bold, convincing statements of Evangelical truth, for a faithful grappling with convictions, for happy and pertinent illustrations, for graphic description, and for searching common-sense, we shall look, and we believe we shall seldom look in vain. In a word, he preaches not to metaphysicians or logicians; neither to poets nor to savants; to masters of erudition or masters of rhetoric; he preaches to men. Fastidiousness holds up its hands horrified. The Intelligence of the Age is quite shocked. If Oxford should hear of him, and condescend to listen, it will musingly compliment Dissent by saying it's just what it thought of the horrid thing. The young B.A. of the London University will regard him as a dreadful apparition, and will hasten into his study to compose an elaborate essay for the rising watering-place of Small-tooth-comb, 'On the Foolishness of Preaching.' The religious beau, who would wish to pass muster among Christians if he may be allowed his cigar, his glass, and his seat midway between the chapel pew and the chair of the scorner, will look into Park Street, but pronounce the discourse decidedly very vulgar. The Christian Wasp, the organ of the large and influential body of Arminian Rationalists, will purchase one of the preacher's sermons in The Penny Pulpit, and construct an elaborate review to prove that looking at God as we look at the sun, through a logical telescope, is the best test of religious life and truth; and that as man is free to be good whenever he likes, Spurgeon is shockingly wrong because he intimates that man is as free to fly to God as a stone to the sun. Meantime, our preacher will pursue his way, we trust, entangling himself with none of their criticisms, but saying the word in all plainness which God shall give him to utter."

Whatever people might say about their pastor, however, and whether critics were severe or generous, the difficulty of the good deacons at New Park Street was no longer associated with empty pews, but with the crowds which, at night especially, when the gas was alight, made the heat of the chapel terribly oppressive. The pastor, who was such a lover of fresh, pure air, might seek temporary relief by putting his stick through a pane of glass; but, if possible, something else would have to be done. The site of the chapel made it possible for an enlargement to be carried out; and before the young preacher had been many months in his new pastorate, funds for carrying out this enterprise were being collected. It may have occurred to some discerning people even thus early that the mere enlargement of an old chapel would never meet the requirements of the case; and that a chapel larger than any that had ever before been erected would have to be provided. The phenomenon was the more unaccountable because there were people, passing for shrewd observers, who did not discover in the preacher what they would have regarded as necessary qualifications for popularity. One American writer who attempted to depict Mr. Spurgeon as he was at this time says:—"He was unpractised in either the art of oratory or of preaching, his public efforts having consisted of addresses before Sunday-schools, and a very brief but successful pastorate over an obscure Baptist Church at Waterbeach. In personal appearance he was not prepossessing; in style he was plain, practical, simple; in manner, rude, bold, egotistical, approaching to the bigoted; in theology, a deep-dyed Calvinist; in Church relations, an uncompromising Baptist. We could scarcely imagine a more unpromising list of qualifications, or rather disqualifications, for public favour."

One of the first to recognise and acknowledge the great abilities of Mr. Spurgeon is said to have been the late Mr. John Anderson, who was pastor of the Free Church at Helensburgh; and it was out of compliment to that friend that Mr. Spurgeon's house in Nightingale Lane, Clapham, was called after the name of the Scottish town. Mr. Anderson's opinion was that all would have to yield Mr. Spurgeon the honour of being the chief preacher of the day. A warm friendship soon afterwards sprang up between the two pastors, as will be shown; the Scotch divine loved to meet his friend in London; and Mr. Spurgeon would occasionally be found in after years conducting a service on the lawn in front of the Free Church Manse at Helensburgh. Scotland appears to have been holiday-ground which was always appreciated; and though they were not hasty in making their decision, the Scottish people at last became among the most devoted of his admirers. In after years, however, what were called holidays in the North were little other than preaching tours.