Controversial Reminiscences
Those readers who care to make themselves acquainted with the special religious environment of my youth should read a book issued under the title of “Tyne Eolk.”* In that book I have described many local characters and given many illustrations full of local incident and colour. Specially I have given a detailed account of my connection with an early controversy which raged under the name of Morisonianism. Erom the beginning I have belonged to the Congregational body, my father being at one time a deacon, or, as the office was then called, a manager, of the local Congregational church. The doctrine of that Church was severely Calvinistic, the Calvinism sometimes rising (or falling) to the Antinomian level. During
* “Tyiie Folk: Masks, Faces, mid Shadows.” I’ublislied by H. i;. AUeuson.
24G one pastoral vacancy the pulpit was occupied hj a minister of what was known as the Morisonian school. The Morisonians were exactly the opposite of the Calvinists. They preached a universal redemption, and offered terms of mercy to the outcast and humanly lost. This doctrine was so abhorrent to the Calvinists that they used every means in their i)ower to prevent an invitation from l)eing given to the young Arminian. They were, however, outvoted, with the result that the Morisonian divine accepted the pastorate and scattered the Church. Some went to the Presbyterians, others went to the Wesleyans; I went to both. I have, therefore, been l)arenthetically both a Presbyterian and a Wesleyan, and consequently I have had an opportunity of seeing something of the working of both these ecclesiastical systems. Most of my off-time was spent amongst the Wesleyan Methodists; I used, indeed, to say with great licence of speech that I have been almost everything in Methodism except President of the Conference. In process of time the young Morisonian was driven away from his pastorate, the result being that those of us who had been scattered amongst other denominations cam(^ back to our original Ibid. In consequence of this episode I have
often been asked whether I did not begin amongst the Wesleyans r I did not. I have just explained exactly how circumstances shaped themselves. I do not know that any crime would attach to a man who began his religious life as a AVesleyan Methodist; at the same time, it is due to the facts of the case that I should explain my temporary defection from the local Congregational church. No one can have an adequate idea how furiously the controv(n’sy was conducted. Families were divided, old associations were broken up, equable tempers were disturbed and exasperated. In all these controversies I took my full share without ever saying one word that could 1)0 construed into a limitation of the divine mercy. I have ahvays believed that Jesus Christ is able to save unto the uttermost, and that the salvation of the Cross is offered to all men through all time. It was my father who was a Calvinist, and in those days it was customary for fathers to rule their households with distinct authority — verily with a rod and a staff.
From that time to this I have been, in a sense, a man of war, though my review of the whole polemical course exonerates mo from the self-accusation of over having made one intentional assault upon any man’s personal integrity. I have seen how possible it is for controversy to degenerate into personality, and I have also seen how possible it is for controversy to be conducted instructively and profitably.
A very notable instance of courteous and useful controversy occurred during my Banbury ministry. Mr. G. J. Holyoake visited Banbury and delivered a short series of addresses on Secularism. I went to hear the lectures, and to my surprise I was suddenly led to take part in a discussion which was frankly and even graciously invited by the lecturer himself. Mr. Holyoake’s excellent habit was to state his own case in the clearest possible manner, and then to invite inquiry or discussion. I was only twenty -four years of age, yet I was so overpowered by the impression that I ought to seize this opportunity that, almost before I kncAv it, I was on my feet asking questions and raising difficulties. The discussion lasted three whole nights and was conducted in the most public manner. From l)eginning to end Mr. Holyoake did not utter one offensive word, nor was there one offensive tone in the eloquent delivery of what he had to say. Mr. Holyoake illustrated some of the highest phases of public controversy. To hear Mr. Holyoake — that is, to listen to him without prejudice — was to receive an education in public speaking and high-minded debate. During the discussion I remember an instance Avhicli for the moment utterly paralysed my mental attitude. In debate the speaker must answer in a moment, or the public will consider that he has been worsted in the fray. We might make excellent answers to our most practised opponents if we could take a week for the preparation of our reply. But not a day is allowed, nor an hour, nor a moment; Ave must reply instantaneously or be regarded as foiled and undone. The question which Mr. Holyoake suddenly put to me was, “What did Providence do for the martyr Stephen when he was ])eing stoned to death?” HoAV to answer the inquiry I did not for a moment know. The case seemed to be wholly against the idea of a divine Providence. As things are commonly intrepreted, it was perfectly clear that divine Providence took no part in the protection of Stephen. Hoav, then, could I reply to my acute and eloquent opponent? I frankly say that I followed the example of Nehemiah and “j) rayed to the God of heaven.” Presently it came to my turn to reply. Everything as to the effectiveness and usefulness of that discussion depended upon the adequacy of my answer. The answer was not mine. In my heart of hearts I believe that in the same hour I was told by the Spirit what to say: —
“The question has l)een put to me, ‘What did Providence do in the case of the martyr Stephen when he was being stoned to death? ‘If God takes care of His saints why did He not take care of Stephen? What did God Almighty do but leave Stephen to his fate? I think that the Almighty did more than at first sight may appear upon a casual reading of the record. He did not visibly appear to the murderers; He was not audibly heard by any man in the crowd: He did not send a visible angel to deliver the martyr in the hour of his agony: but on these grounds it would be an infinite mistake to suppose that God did nothing for His servant. I tell you that in that moment of sutt’ering and helplessness God enabled Stephen to say, ‘Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.’ That was what the Almighty did; and when the true value of spiritual ministry is known, it will be allowed that in working this miracle of forgiveness in the spirit of the martyred man, God did more for Stephen than if He had sent a legion of angels to protect him from the ruffianism which wrought his death.”
That was my answer. That was an answer which came into my heart straight from the Holy Spirit. Again and again during these forty years I have looked at that reply and I endorse it noAV as the sublimest answer that God Himself could give to the superficial and impious criticism of unl)elieving men. The people saw it in this light. Xevor was reply more enthusiastically and more unanimously endorsed. The answer had an electrical effect upon the congregation, and in a large degree it settled the issue of the debate. Mr. Holyoake was most courteous; he advised some of his secularist followers to hear me preach, and they accepted his suggestion, with the result that some of them became members of the Church of which I was pastor.
I have known a good deal of debate and have watched anxiously many of its developments. I deliberately place Mr. Holyoake at the head of all religious disputants. I heard his discussion with a very sharp and witty opponent. If I could have heard the debate without seeing the disputants or hearing their words — that is to say, if I could have judged only by the spirit and temper of the men — I should have said that the Christian was the infidel and the so-called infidel was the Christian. When the Christian advocate sat down I had no conceytion of the meaning of Christianity, but when Mr. Holyoake resumed his seat I had a tolerably complete view of the theory and purpose of secularism. Christians had every reason to be ashamed of their champion, while the secularists had reason to be proud of their eloquent and tranquil expositor. Religious controversy has nothing to hope from mere sharpness, or satire, or verbal reprisal; it has everything to hope from a profound and clear exposition of the central verities of Christianity.
I am far from saying that there are not times when it is lawful to “answer a fool according to his folly.” Sacred history has shown that there are times when the f olloAvers of Baal may jjroperly be bantered and flouted. In a small way 1 myself have found the ad-CONTROVERSIAL RE.[INISCENCES 253
vantage of a little mild chaffing and mockery. As a matter of fact, my hearers have often smiled approvingly during my pulpit ministrations. I have never discouraged the expression of feeling at my Thursday morning service, where we have sometimes taken a little more liberty than is supposed to be permissible during Sabbath ministrations. I remember an instance in illustration, t one ol’ my Thursday services I was speaking about the foolishness, as well as the impiety, of some of the excuses made by irreligious men. The text was the incident connected with the making of the golden calf. Poor Aaron attempted to excuse himself to Moses, saying, in effect, that he was never so surprised in his life as when he cast the rings and ornaments of the Israelites into the furnace, and “behold,” said he, “there came out this calf!” I showed the folly as well as th(> wickedness of such excuses, and probably I so painted the confused and bewildered Aaron when he was face to face with his calf as to excite the approving laughter of my hearers. Such laughter would be in admirable keeping Avitli the picture which had been placed before their imagination. But some men do not like laughter in church, even on a Thursday. They have condemned laughter
A PEEACHER’S LIFE
as irreverent and frivolous, not knowing that there is a time to laugh, and that laughter itself may be an element in worship. One of my hearers was magnanimous enough, and orthodox enough, to write an anonymous letter to the newspapers regarding this breach of congregational decorum. Though the writer did not sign his name, he did sign his real initials. I read his letter and replied to it, concluding my remarks as follows:
“Your correspondent must be a fellow of infinite wit, for, having attacked me on the subject of Aaron’s calf. he facetiously signs himself ‘A. C”
That man never wrote against me with these initials any more. His friends sc frequently reminded him of the “A. C.” and Aaron’s calf that he desired a discontinuance of their irritating references. Another mar attacked me for having been most bias phemous in prayer. The poor wretch was simply uncontrollable in his resentful excitement. In my prayer I said, “Disgract not the throne of Thy glory: remember break not Thy covenant with us.” M] assailant was as hot as the furnace Avhicl Nebuchadnezzar the king enkindled in hii infinite fury. He denounced me as a blasphemer, demanded to know how long this kind of address was to be permitted. He said that such words were a disgrace to the Christian pulpit. I replied to the infuriated creature in very brief terms. I said his reproaches must not be levelled against me, but against the man to whom I was indebted. I had certainly said, “Disgrace not the throne of Thy glory: remember, break not Thy covenant with us,” and I admitted that the terms were unusual and severe, but I would stand aside and let my great original defend himself. I then referred him to Jeremiah xiv. 21. I heard no more from that incarnate fury. I suppose that, having bankrupted his business and gone into the unseen, out of which he should never have come, he is continuing his controversy with Jeremiah, and that when he has settled with the prophet he will take up his parable against his Dissenting successor.
Of all the petty controversies in which I have been called to take part, the pettiest was the bitter assault which was made upon me when I accepted from the Corporation of London a pulpit — value three hundred guineas — for the use of the City Temple.
A PKEACHER’B LIFE
For more than two centuries and a half the church of which I am pastor has been resident in the city (proper) of London. Two centuries and a half! The church was founded by Dr. Thomas Goodwin, chaplain to Oliver Cromwell, President of Magdalen College, Oxford, one of the members of the Westminster Assembly of Divines, and by common consent one of the first scholars of his day. Prom the time of Goodwin the church of which I am pastor has never gone beyond the bounds of the City proper. It is therefore in very deed a City church. When we sold the site of the Poultry Chapel, which we bought from the Corporation more than seventy years ago, for two thousand pounds, and which we sold in 1873 for more than fifty thousand pounds, the question arose as to a site for the new and greatly enlarged structure. We were determined, if possible, to keep within our old bounds. With the assistance of Mr. Deputy Fry — a name which I must for ever hold in grateful recollection — we secured a position on the Holborn Viaduct estate. After being more than two centuries in the City, and after having kept up intimate relations with the Corporation during the whole of that time.
and havmg finally bought a plot of ground for which we paid the Corporation of London more than twenty-five thousand pounds, it was moved in the Court of Common Council that the Corjjoration of London should present a pulpit to the City Temple. To my great surprise and corresponding pleasure the Corporation voted three hundred guineas to defray the expense of the City Temple pulpit. The resolution was intended to be an expression of good-will towards the church which had faithfully adhered to the City through so long a continuance of years. All this seems natural and simple enough. If the Corporation had reduced the price of the land three hundred guineas, who could have found any fault with such a concession? The site belonged to the Corporation, and the Corporation could put its own value upon it. The Corporation could, indeed, have sold the land for half the price we gave for it. But when it turned out to be the gift of a pulpit, some Dissenters were thrown almost into a panic, and the letters they wrote to the papers made them the laughing-stock of other critics. By-and-by the animus of the whole antagonistic movement was disclosed, and the opposition lost all interest when Dr. Binney publicly came forward, and, with the authority of his long experience and high character, supported me in the vicAv I took.
My chief controversy has been upon matters connected with the development of Congregationalism. My brethren and I have not always taken the same view of Congregational polity. Once for all I may say that from the beginning until now I have been a member of the “Independent” ministry. I do not believe there are any “small” churches or any “weak” churches. I am more and more convinced that we should be very careful what epithets Ave attach to the term “church.” In the highest interpretation of things the Church of Christ is one, though the term “churches” has apostolic precedent for its use. It is, in my judgment, impossible to amalgamate Congregationalism with any other system of Church government. Congregationalism is unique. It is neither isolated nor unneighbourly; it is destitute neither of sympathy nor of Ijrotlierhood, but it is bounded l)y certain lines that cannot be blurred without losing all distinctiveness and influence. Congregationalism has always
seemed to me to be rather a spirit than a body — rather a principle than an organisation; and this I said in the Congregational Union, as can be proved by its own records, many years ago. Many brethren have taken another view of Congregational polity. They have sincerely thought that Congregationalism should be organised and consolidated, and could usefully take upon itself some of the aspects and responsibilities of the highly organised Churches. But as I have already pointed out, organised Churches have organised creeds, and an organised apparatus within which all denominational questions must be considered and settled. Each Congregational Church settles its own questions in its own way. No Congregational Church has any authority over any other Congregational Church. The very uniqueness of this polity makes amalgamation absolutely impossible. But it does not destroy brotherhood, nor does it interfere, to any serious extent, with co-operation; it is one amongst many, but it is one, and its loss of oneness would be loss of power. My chief opponent in this matter of Organised Congregationalism was Dr. Hannay, the greatest secretary, beyond all doubt, that ever served the Union. His mind was of statesmanlike range and quality. His eloquence was closely reasoned, and his temper was most sympathetic and forbearing. Out of sight he was the greatest Church debater I have ever listened to. Though we lived in friendly conflict all our days, I think I can show by the following letter that our mutual esteem was not impaired by our political antagonism. This is one of the last letters which Dr. Hannay ever wrote:
“Nor. m, 1890.
“My Dear Parkkr, —
“Many thanks for j’our kind letter of yesterday with its unexpected enclosure — unexpected, but most welcome. The printed address greatly added to my regret that I had been denied the opportunity of hearing it. I have heard many things from your lips, and read many things from your pen, with high admiration — some of which I felt I was not quite educated up to; but my assent and consent to your address of last night, in eveiy word, is unqualified. It has come too late to be of use to me, but I hope that those who have a future before them as preachers will lay it to heart. There is a great deal of good fun in it, but also a great deal of serious truth even in the most riotous of the fun.”
I have endeavoured to conduct all my controversies without injustice or bitterness, though I must say that my language has not been wanting in colour and emphasis. If,, in the pressure of time and incident, I have said any single word that can give needless pain to any honest man I deeply regret the utterance of that word, and I hereby now, in the name and for the sake of Jesus Christ, withdraw it, and beg that it may be forgiven.