Chapter 86: A Sermon Beneath Crouch Oak

Chapter 86.
A Sermon Beneath Crouch Oak

Addlestone and Edward Leach—An Historical Tree and an Open-air Service—Sympathy with Agricultural Labourers—Ministers' Incomes—A "Strike" suggested—Spurgeon and Moody—Changes—Gough and the Orphanage.

We have now to look on a singular and picturesque scene, and one which guide-books refer to as something that belongs to the historical area of Addlestone. In the summer of 1872 Edward Leach, editor of The Freeman, and former sub-editor of The Sword and the Trowel, was desirous of erecting a new chapel in the little town for the congregation of which he had some time before become pastor. This sanctuary was to cost twelve hundred pounds—a modest sum, but a large amount for a small company of people who were, for the most part, poor. Leach was a genuine fellow who had made his way by hard work; but he died a comparatively young man a few years later, from a fever caused by a draught of impure water. Being as enthusiastic in this matter of raising a chapel as he was with his weekly newspaper, Leach prevailed upon his former chief to undertake the ceremony of laying the memorial-stone of the new building and to preach a sermon in the open air. A most attractive programme was drawn up, and a triumphal arch, decorated with boughs and flowers, was erected in honour of Spurgeon. Throngs of people from the surrounding towns and villages entered Addlestone. The event of the afternoon was the stone-laying; then followed tea in a meadow, after which the great preacher gave a discourse beneath the ancient and historic tree known as Crouch Oak. This tree, which has been associated with Wycliffe and Queen Elizabeth, was twenty-four feet in circumference nine feet from the ground, and it derived its name from the cross cut upon it as the boundary-mark of Windsor Forest.

Here is a description, by one who was present, of the scene in Addlestone before and after the memorial-stone was laid:—

"In a lane leading from the station at Addlestone is a massive oak, which, if the gossips of the neighbourhood be trustworthy, has seen some notable sights. It is said that under its far-reaching branches 'Wycliffe has preached and Queen Elizabeth dined.' The combination of circumstances is striking, and might furnish the text for an interesting essay were not a restraint placed upon the fancy by the consideration that possibly, after all, Wycliffe never did preach there, nor Queen Elizabeth dine. A constructive argument in favour of every tradition might be derived from the fact that Crouch Tree Oak yesterday afforded a canopy under which was delivered a sermon that might, for simple and moving eloquence, possibly hold its own in comparison with any the great reformer preached, and that, though no opportunity was afforded of testing its suitability as the roof of a dining-room, a tea, which gave profound satisfaction to some five hundred persons, was spread at its foot. The occasion which led to these remarkable doings was the laying of the foundation-stone of a new chapel which is being built for the accommodation of the Baptist congregation of Addlestone. A place of worship formerly stood upon the site of the projected new erection, but it was in a dilapidated condition; and the congregation, which is comprised almost entirely of the working classes, boldly undertook the task of finding funds to build another."

After he had laid the stone of the new chapel, Spurgeon made some general references to Nonconformity and the Church of England, defending himself and his adherents from charges of schism. He added;—

"By the grace of God the Nonconformists must remain where they are; but they must also improve their position, putting away from them all error and every evil thing I deprecate the entertaining of the idea that our own denomination has exclusive possession of the whole truth, and that it is right in everything. Let us see to it that we make true that boast—which I fear is not a true one—that the Bible, and the Bible alone, is the religion of Protestants. We must not preserve any error in our churches, for an error might act as did the bombshell taken during the siege of Paris, and buried in one of the fields in the vicinity of the city, but which, on being afterwards struck by the plough of the farmer, exploded with the most disastrous consequences."

He seemed to think that entrance into the Church was being made too easy, whereas in the old days candidates for Christian fellowship were supposed to have "a severe time of it." Many who were too easily admitted as easily relapsed into their former ways. He also hoped that the main strength of Dissent would never run into politics; for to be spiritually weak, though they might he politically strong, was a calamity. He then added:—

"Give us saints conversant with the Word of God, and who are faithful in heart and life to its requirements, and we shall be a power in the earth when the powers that oppress us shall have crumbled into dust. Our church members must be the most devout and the most devoted people in the community. I would not care if we were even to live in such a manner that we should be called strict. The error of this day is certainly not over-strictness. We have Christian liberty running into what I call licence. The holiest church will one day be the most powerful church. The Baptists are very few still in this land; but for all that we have no reason whatever to be ashamed." Not being a pessimist naturally, he predicted better times generally for England. The agitation of the agricultural labourers was then at its height, and he strongly advocated their cause, remarking that they were the first to welcome a Nonconformist minister into a village, the Established clergy not having succeeded in winning their hearts. He longed to see the labourers with more ample means, not only for themselves and those dependent on them, but to enable them better to support religion. No one valued English freedom and the institutions of liberty more than Spurgeon; but he, nevertheless, compared this country to one where caste ruled, and where so many things cramped the energies of the Christian worker that it sometimes seemed as though the Spirit of God were saying, "I will not work here." Despite all, however, the outlook was that of a great future; and it was hoped that when all were educated the freedom enjoyed would be wisely used. When the address was concluded, the people passed in front of the stone on which they placed their offerings, Mr. Spurgeon sitting on the wall as President, and having an umbrella held over his head on account of the heat. In a short time a sum of £100 was placed upon the stone, and then all were ready for tea. I will again quote the graphic description of an eye-witness:—

"At half-past five the bulk of the congregation, assembled in a tent raised under the oak tree, and indulged in the pleasures of tea, bread and butter, and cake. The opportunity was regarded as a favourable one by a visitor to make inquiries touching the grand old tree by the roadside, which stretched its gnarled arms half way across the tent. The result was not, however, encouraging. 'It was called Crouch Tree Oak hereabouts.' 'Might an ignorant but interested visitor ask why?' 'Well, you see, sir, it crouches like;' and the visitor was invited to observe the mighty branches bending over from the trunk, one supported by a limb striking upwards from the ground. 'But about Wycliffe and Queen Elizabeth?' The gentleman who was having his tea did not know anything about 'them,' nor was the knowledge spread in other quarters yet. One intelligent inhabitant was able to state that the tree marked the boundary of Windsor Forest; but that was hardly pertinent to the question. This was disappointing; but it presently became evident that whether Wycliffe had or had not, five hundred years ago, preached under the tree, Mr. Spurgeon was presently about to hold forth. After tea a pulpit was extemporised, upon the model of the one at the Tabernacle, by covering a carpenter's bench with red baize, and fastening before this a wooden railing, which also had its decent covering of baize. A pair of steps, constructed with a considerable amount of trouble, were placed in position before the rostrum; but when, a few minutes after seven o'clock, the preacher appeared, he scorned their assistance and scrambled on to the bench from the level of the field, grasping the rail as soon as he was in a position to face the congregation, as if he recognised in it a familiar friend whose presence made him feel at home under the novel circumstances that surrounded him. Mr. Spurgeon at once began the service. There might, when he stood up, have been some doubt whether his voice could be heard throughout the vast throng that had gathered in front of the tree, the numbers whereof had considerably increased upon the conclusion of the feast, and the consequent free admission to the field of all who might choose to enter. But the first tones of the speaker's voice dispelled all uncertainty on that score, and the congregation settled quietly down, whilst Mr. Spurgeon, with uplifted hands, besought 'the Spirit of God to be with them, even as in their accustomed places of worship.' A hymn was then sung, a portion of the 55th chapter of Isaiah read, another prayer offered up, and the preacher commenced his sermon." The discourse itself was one of the preacher's most telling efforts in the open air, and was worthy of Whitefield in his best days. The text was St. Mat 9:36 : "He was moved with compassion." From first to last the sermon, which was an hour long, was a masterpiece of forcible simplicity. With a rapid hand the chief events in the life of Christ were sketched; and the attention of the farm labourers was at once arrested when the Lord was depicted as moving about among the crowds of Palestine in "the smock-frock of an ordinary labourer." The reference to the English Poor Law was not complimentary; its working was something very different from the example of Christ. "If Jesus Christ were abroad in these days," said the preacher, "He would, I much fear, have occasion to say, 'I was hungry and ye fed Me not; thirsty, and ye gave Me no drink; destitute, and ye told Me to go to the parish.'" Tracts were no doubt good things in their way, but were not to be exclusively relied on to bring people to a knowledge of the truth. "I believe a loaf of bread often contains the very essence of theology," it was added; "and the Church of God ought to look to it that there were at her gates no poor unfed and no sick untended." Then "the clergy of all denominations"were reminded that as fish first went had at the head, "so a church, when it goes wrong, goes had first among its ministers." It was some time after sunset when the preacher's eloquent closing appeal to the crowd to lose no time in seeking salvation rang through the field. "I call heaven and earth, and this old tree, under which the Gospel was preached five hundred years ago, to bear witness that I have preached to you the Word of God, in which alone salvation is to be found."

Some things which were said about this time concerning ministerial incomes provoked discussion in the newspaper press, and in reply to the mild threat of "a strike," The North British Mail gave a leading article:—

"But is a strike likely to mend matters? Would it not be wiser to inquire whether excessive competition does not reduce the value of those of whom he spoke, and whether the bulk of them are really as fit for the work they profess as the men who laid the foundation-stones of the chapel are for theirs? Mr. Spurgeon has attractions which could in any profession procure for their possessor large emoluments; but it by no means follows that he can transmit his gifts to his students. People hare become knowing and critical, and a minister must have something rarer than a black coat to exhibit before he can fill a church. The humorous suggestion of a strike shows that the 'wages question' is reaching others than working men; and if Mr. Spurgeon's remark carries its full weight it will do good. If a minister has piety, learning, and eloquence he will have no cause to complain of his earnings; if he unhappily lack these, he must be content to suffer from the want of natural fitness for his office, and from the absence of the acquirements got by years of irksome study." On this Spurgeon remarked that it was easier to write in such a strain than to prove the assertions, the truth being that Presbyterians in Scotland found it hard to realise the state of things in England. Of the Established Church more particularly it was said:—

"It starves many of its own best men, whose very excellences hinder their advancement from the position of curates; and its influence on other communions is most pernicious. The Nonconformist congregations in such a city as Glasgow find it quite easy to give their pastors as good an income as their brethren in the Establishment receive—in some cases a better one; such emulation is not practicable where prelacy is the established form of religion. Anything like a fair standard is destroyed where one Christian minister has palaces and £15,000 a year, while others of equal or greater merit, but destitute of political or personal interest, are condemned to a curacy and £100 per annum." On Monday, August 5, Mr. Spurgeon laid the memorial-stone of the chapel at Lordship Lane, Dulwich; and it was here that he made special reference to the hardships of poor ministers, and in a joking way suggested "a strike." On the Wednesday following a similar ceremony was gone through at Faversham, where a new chapel was required for the congregation of Mr. Alfred Bax. The Mayor, Mr. C. Bryant, presided; and, as was usual on such an occasion when the weather was fine, a great concourse of people assembled from the towns and villages of the surrounding country. Mr. Spurgeon referred to the principles of the Baptists, and he then showed what were the conditions of success in the case of a working church:—

"I would, say to the members of this church, 'Do not be satisfied unless you have conversions.' Ministers may preach earnestly and prayerfully, but I consider there is little good done if there are not conversions. I regret that there are churches in which there have been no conversions for months and years, and yet if they are spoken to on the subject they will say they are 'very comfortable.' That is the worst part of it. Imagine a large fire breaking out in Faversham, and the engines being sent for, and on arriving somewhere near the fire the men stopping, taking seats on the engines, and lighting up their pipes, and on their being asked how they were getting on with the fire, the reply being, 'Oh, we are not doing anything towards putting out the fire, but we are uncommonly comfortable.' All I can say is that if a man can be comfortable when good is not being done he is no use to any church, and the sooner he is packed off to attend some other than the Lord's business the better." In illustrating the ready common sense which often characterised the working classes, he told this anecdote of what once happened near home:—

"I once met a man going across Clapham Common with a very large barrow, in which was a very small parcel. I could not help remarking to the man that it was curious he should have so large a barrow for so small a parcel, and he replied, 'Yes, it is curious, but there are more curious things than that, for I have been about the whole day and have not met a gentleman who looked as if he would give me a pint of beer till I met you.' Well, that man had his mind bent on that one thing, and he took the straight road to it at once. So must you act if you wish to fill your chapel. I firmly believe that if you had the will to increase your congregation you could do it; for instance, I believe it might be done by your repeating to others some nice little extracts from the excellent sermons you hear. If you do this you will soon have plenty of hearers, and then the blessing will follow."

He arranged that no silver trowel should be presented; and, after remarking that no coins were placed in the cavity beneath the stone, he added, "I have known memorial-stones to suddenly move during the night when money has been placed in them." About six hundred persons sat down to tea, and a sermon was given in the evening. The Stockwell Orphanage festival was deferred until Wednesday, September 18, when an attractive programme was provided, including music, refreshments al fresco—though it was somewhat late in the season—Chinese illuminations, and speeches. Unhappily the President was taken ill during the afternoon, and was obliged to return to his home. Otherwise the occasion was a memorable one. There were then two hundred and forty-five boys in the institution; and the founder of the Orphanage, Mrs. Hillyard, who was present, received a costly album, containing portraits of all the inmates, the lads themselves having subscribed the cost. It was also on this occasion that Mr. J. T. Wigner received the elegantly-bound set of Spurgeon's Sermons to which reference has been made. This time Mr. Spurgeon's illness was not of the most serious kind. He was able to preach at the Tabernacle on Sunday morning, September 22; but his old enemy, the gout, attacked him with such vigour that his right foot had to be rested on a chair during the whole of the service. In the autumn of this year the Transatlantic journal, The Watchman and Reflector, contained a letter by Professor Richards, of Pittsfield, Mass., relating to Spurgeon and Moody and our own Aldersgate Street noon prayer-meeting:—

"The last person who came between myself and Mr. Spurgeon was Mr. Moody, of Chicago, and Mr. Spurgeon was resisting strenuously what Mr. Moody was urging. Presently Mr. Moody turned, and, seeing me, he gave me his characteristic greeting, and then said, 'Help me to prevail with Mr. Spurgeon to go and lead the Aldersgate Street noon prayer-meeting.' He went off without the consent he sought, and after he was gone Mr. Spurgeon told mo why he wouldn't go. He had been there on one occasion, and, finding much indecorum of words and manner, he openly and strongly condemned it, when he was rudely called to account by one of the habitués, who angrily demanded of him, 'Mr. Spurgeon, where is the Spirit of the Lord?' The great preacher replied, 'Not in you, my friend, I fear. He would not abide beneath so angry a face as yours.'"

Many changes occurred during the autumn of 1872. Dr. Brock resigned the pastorate of Bloomsbury Chapel; James Grant, who had retired from the editorship of The Morning Advertiser some time previously, now commenced a penny weekly journal; and Dr. d'Aubigné, the historian of the Reformation, passed away. As was quite natural, the great preacher of the Metropolitan Tabernacle gave a cordial greeting to the little paper of his old friend, who had stood by him in early days; but from the first the prospects of the new enterprise appear to have been hopeless—Mr. Grant was too sweeping in his condemnation of Nonconformist ministers in general. In taking notice of Mr. Spurgeon's "anticipatory and commendatory notice of this new journal," The Freeman added: "Our honoured friend is the last minister of Jesus Christ to approve of this wholesale and shameful vilification of the ministers of the. Baptist and Independent bodies." Grant meant well; but he was too much disposed to extreme views in religious matters. The Stockwell Orphanage had become one of those British institutions which an American was necessarily required to "do" before his tour of the world could in any wise be considered complete. John B. Gough had now changed from a detractor into a "beloved friend," who sought and enjoyed Spurgeon's company. The temperance lecturer has given us a word-picture of the Orphanage as it was in those days:—

"I would like to give you one incident to illustrate the man in his greatness and simplicity. He wished me to visit his Boys' Orphanage at Stockwell. I could go only on Saturday, and his note to me was characteristic:—

"'Beloved Friend,—Although I never go out on Saturdays- my horses, being under the law, and not under grace, keep the seventh day Sabbath—yet we will arrange to visit,' etc.

"A beautiful day it was for London as we rode together, chatting all the way. The history of the Orphanage is intensely interesting. The commencement was a sum of twenty thousand pounds to Mr. Spurgeon from a lady to commence an Orphanage for fatherless boys. All the money that has been expended has been raised by voluntary contributions, and the twenty thousand pounds is invested as an endowment. When we entered the grounds the boys set up a shout of joy at the sight of their benefactor.

"I asked, 'What are the requirements for admission?'

"He said, 'Utter destitution—nothing denominational. We have more of the Church of England than of the Baptists. We have Roman Catholics, Presbyterians, Methodists—all sorts.'

"After the boys had gone through their gymnastic exercises and military drill I spoke a few words to them. Mr. Spurgeon was like a great boy among boys.

"He said, 'There are two hundred and forty boys—only think! How many pence are there in a shilling?'

"'Twelve.'

"'Right! How many shillings in a pound?'

"'Twenty.'

"'Right! Twelve times twenty, how many?'

"'Two hundred and forty.'

"'That's a penny a-piece for each boy. Here, Mr. Charlesworth,' handing him a sovereign, 'give these boys a penny a-piece;' when a shrill hearty hurrah was given as Mr. Spurgeon turned away with a laugh of keen enjoyment.

"'Will you go to the infirmary? We have an infirmary and quarantine; for sometimes the poor creatures we take in need a good deal of purifying. We have one boy very ill with consumption; he cannot live, and I wish to see him, for he would be disappointed if he knew I had been here and had not seen him.'

"We went into the cool and sweet chamber, and there lay the boy. He was very much excited when he saw Mr. Spurgeon. The great preacher sat by his side, and I cannot describe the scene. Holding the boy's hand in his he said—

"'Well, my dear, you have some precious promises in sight all around the room. Now, dear, you are going to die, and you are very tired lying here, and soon you will be free from all pain, and. you will rest. Nurse, did he rest last night?'

"'He coughed very much.'

"'Ah, my dear boy, it seems very hard for you to lie here all day in pain and cough all night. Do you love Jesus?'

"'Yes.'

"'Jesus loves you; He bought you with His precious blood, and He knows what is best for you. It seems hard for you to lie here and listen to the shouts of the healthy boys outside at play. But soon Jesus will take you home, and then He will tell you the reason, and you will be so glad.'

"Then, laying his hand on the boy, without the formality of kneeling, he said: 'O Jesus, Master, this dear child is reaching out his thin hand to find Thine. Touch him, dear Saviour, with Thy loving, warm clasp. Lift him as he passes the cold river, that his feet be not chilled by the water of death; take him home in Thine own good time. Comfort and cherish him till that good time comes. Show him Thyself as he lies here, and let him see Thee and know Thee more and more as his loving Saviour.'

"After a moment's pause he said, 'Now, dear, is there anything you would like? Would you like a little canary in a cage to hear him sing in the morning? Nurse, see that he has a canary to-morrow morning. Good-bye, my dear; you will see the Saviour, perhaps, before I shall.'

"I had seen Mr. Spurgeon holding by his power sixty-five hundred parsons in a breathless interest; I knew him as a great man universally esteemed and beloved; but as he sat by the bedside of a dying pauper child, whom his beneficence had rescued, he was to me a greater and grander man than when swaying the mighty multitude at his will.

"I need not describe Mr. Spurgeon's preaching; very few Americans visit London without hearing him. So much has been written and published in the United States of him and his sermons that the people of this country are familiar with him as one of our own people. I am most impressed with the simplicity, freedom, fearlessness, earnestness, and naturalness of his preaching. He has more heart than eloquence, and illustrates the truth of his own words, 'Eloquence of the most lofty kind is mere sound, unless there be love in the speaker's heart to give weight to his words. Better to have a loving heart than to speak twenty languages.'"