Love, Courtship, and Marriage (Continued)

IT this time, the Crystal Palace was a favourite resort with us. It possessed great attractions of its own, and perhaps the associations of the opening day gave it an added grace in our eyes. In common with many of our friends, we had season tickets; and we used them to good purpose, as my beloved found that an hour or two of rest and relaxation in those; lovely gardens, and that pure air, braced him for the constant toil of preaching to crowded congregations, and relieved him somewhat from the ill effects of London’s smoky atmosphere. It was so easy for him to run down to Sydenham from London Bridge that, as often as once a week, if possible, we arranged to meet there for a quiet walk and talk. After the close of the Thursday evening service, there would be a whispered word to me in the aisle, “Three o’clock to-morrow,” which meyn.t that, if I would be at the Palace by that hour, “somebody” would meet me at the Crystal Fountain. I was then living

I.|. C. II. SI’UKGKOX S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

at 7, St. Ann’s Terrace, Hrixton Road, in the house which my parents, Mr. and Mrs. R. 1). Thompson, shared with my uncle, II. Kilvington, Esq., and the long walk from there to Sydenham was a pleasant task to me, with such a meeting in view, and such delightful companionship as a reward. We wandered amid the many Courts, which were then chiefly instructive and educational in character; we ga/.ed with almost solemn awe at the reproductions of Egypt, Assyria, and Pompeii, and I think we learned many things beside the tenderness of our own hearts towards each other, as the bright blissful hours sped by.

MY BRIXTON HOME.

The young minister had not much time to spare from his duties, but he usually came to see me on a Monday, bringing his sermon with him to revise for the press; and I learned to be quiet, and mind my own business, while this important work was going on. It was good discipline for the Pastor’s intended wife, who needed no inconsiderable amount of training to fit her in any measure for the post she was ordained to occupy. I remember, however, that there was one instance of preparation for future duty, which was by no means agreeable to my feelings, and which, I regret to say, I resented. As a chronicler must be truthful, I tell the story, and to show how, from the very beginning of his public life, my dear husband’s devotion to his sr. creel work dominated and eve;n absorbe;el every other passion and purpose of his heart. He was a “called, and chosen, and faithful” servant of Christ in the; very highest degree; and during all his life; he; put God’s service first, anel all earthly things second. I have known him to be so abstracted, on a Sabbath morning at the Tabernacle, just before; preaching, that if I left his vestry for a lew moments, he would, on my return, rise anel greet me with a handshake, anel a grave “I low are you?” as if I were a strange visitor; then, noting the; amused look on my face, IK; would discover his mistake, anel laughingly say, “Ne;ve;r mind, wifey dear, I was thinking about my hymns.” This happened not once only, but several times, and when the; service was over, and we; wc;re driving home, he would make; very merry over it.

But I must tell the promised story of the earlier days, though it is not at all to my own credit; yet, even as I write it, I smile at the remembrance of his enjoyment of the; tale in later years. If I wanted to amuse; him much, or chase some; gloom from his dear lace, I would remind him of the time- when he. took his sweetheart to a certain service, and there was so preoccupied with the discourse he was about to deliver, that he: forgot all about her, anel left her to take care: of herself as best she could. As I re-called the incielent, which really was to me a very serious one: at the; time, anel might have hael an untoward ending, he would laugh at the: ludicrous side: ol it till the: tears ran down his cheeks, anel then he would lovingly kiss me, and say how glad he: was that 1 hael borne- with his ill manners, anel how much I must have loved him.

This is the: story. He was to preach at the: large hall of “The: Horns,” Kennington, which was not very far from where we: then resided. I le asked me to accompany him, and dined with us at St. Ann’s Terrace, the service being in the afternoon. e went together, happily enough, in a cab; anel I well remember trying to keep close: by his sitle: as we mingled with the mass of pe:ople thronging up the staircase. But, by the: time we hael reached the: 1, Hiding, he: hael forgotten my existence; the: burden ol the message; he: had to proclaim to that crowel of immortal souls was upon him, anel he: turned into the: small side door where the officials were awaiting him, without for a moment realizing that I was left to struggle; as best I could with the rough anel eager throng around me. At first, I was utterly bewildered, anel then, I am sorry to have to ceMifess, I was angry. I at once returne:el home, and tolel my grief to my gentle mother, who tried to soothe my ruflled spirit, anel bring me to a better frame of mind. She wisely reasoned that my chosen husband was no ordinary man, that his whole life was absolutely eledicated to God and His service, anel that I must never, never hinder him by trying to put myself first in his heart. Presently, after much good anel loving counsel, my he;art gre:w soft, anel I saw I hael been very foolish anel wilful; anel then a cab drew up at the: door, anel dear if, o. it. sruK< IKON’S AUTOI-JOCR. lriiv.

Mr. Spurgeon came running into the. house, in great excitement, calling, “Where’s Susie,? I have been searching for her everywhere, and cannot find her; has she come; back by herself?” My dear mother went to him, took him aside, and told him all the truth; and I think, when he realized the state of things, she had to soothe him also, for he was so innocent at heart of having offended me in any way, that he must have felt I had done, him an injustice in thus doubting him. At last, mother came, to fetch me to him, and I went downstairs. (Juietly he let me tell him how indignant I had felt, and then he repeated mother’s little lesson, assuring me nl his deep affection for me, but pointing out that, before all things, IK; was GotFs servant, and 1 must be prepared to yield my claims to I I is.

I never forgot the teaching of that day; I had learned my hard lesson by heart, for I do not recollect ever again seeking to assert my right to his time and attention when any service for God demanded them. It was ever the settled purpose of unmarried life, that I should never hinder him in his work for the Lord, never try to keep him from fulfilling- his engagements, never plead my own ill-health as a reason why he should remain at home; with me. I thank (loci, now, that I It; enabled me, to carry out this determination, and rejoice that 1 have, no cause to reproach mysell with being a drag on the swift wheels of his consecrated life. I do not take any credit to myself for this; it was the Lord’s will concerning me, and lie. saw to it that 1 received the necessary training whereby, in after years, I could cheerfully surrender His chosen servant to the incessant demands of his ministry, his literary work, and the multiplied labours of his exceptionally busy life. And now I can bless Clod for what happened on that memorable afternoon when my beloved preached at “Fhe Horns,” Kennington. What a delightfully cosy tea we three had together that evening, and how sweet was the calm in our hearts after the storm, and how much we both loved and honoured mother for her wise counsels and her tender diplomacy!

Some little time afterwards, when Mr. Spurgeon had an engagement at Windsor, I was asked to accompany him, and in forwarding the invitation, he referred to the above incident thus : — “My Own Darling, — What do you say to this? As you wish me to express my desire, I will say, ‘Go;’ but I should have left it to your own choice if I did not know that my wishes always please you. Possibly, I may be again inattentive to you if you do go; but this will be nice for us both, — that ‘Charles ’ may have space for mending, and that ‘Susie’ may exhibit her growth in know ledge of his character, by patiently enduring his failings.” So the end of this little “rift in the lute” was no patched-up peace between us, but a deepening of our confidence in each other, and an increase of that fervent love which can look a misunderstanding in the face till it melts away and vanishes, as a morning cloud before the ardent glances of the sun.

C. II. Sl’UKGEON’S AUTOnior.KAPIIY. j-Two tender little notes, written by my husband sixteen years later (1871) will show what an abundant reward of loving approval was bestowed on me for merely doing what it was my duty to do:

‘My Own Dear One,- None know how grateful I am to God for you In all

have ever done for Him, you have a large share, for in making me so happy you

itted me for service. Not an ounce of power has ever been lost to the o-OOcl

- through you. I have served the Lord far more, and never less, for your sweet

:ompamonsh,p. The Lord God Almighty bless you now and for ever!”

have been thinking over my strange history, and musing on eternal love’s

‘cr-head from which such streams of mercy have flowed to me. I dwell

j :m m:llly l)()ims J -th building of the Tabernacle, — what a business it was,

:* seems now! Do you remember a Miss Thompson who collected

the enlargement of New Park Street Chapel as much as ^100? Bless her clear

“link of the love which gave, me that dear lady for a wife, and made her

to me, the ideal wife, and, as I believe, without exaggeration or love-

2 precise form in which God would make a woman for such a man as I

designed her to be the greatest of all earthly blessings to him; and in sometual blessing, too, for in that also am I richly profited by you though

1 will leave this good matter’ ere the paper is covered;

Have sent you as many kisses as there are waves on the sea.”

Jl U’;LS °Ur mutual desire L” P’?y” visit to Colchester, that I might be introduced

eon’s parents as their future daughter-in-law; and, after some trouble

appointment, my father’s consent was obtained, and we set off on our first

ant journey together, with very keen and vivid perceptions of the delightful

of our experience. It is not to be wondered at that my memories of the

somewhat hazy, although intensely happy. I was welcomed, petted and

most affectionately by all the family, and I remember being taken to see

-ry place and object of interest in and around Colchester; but what saw I

know not; the joy of being all the day long with my beloved, and this for three

days together, was enough to fill my heart with gladness, and render me

any other pleasure. I think we must have returned on the Friday of

;s holiday, for, according to our custom, we exchanged letters on the

Saturday as usual, and this is what we said to each other :-

“75, Dover Road,

“My Own Doubly-dear Susie,

‘’How much we have enjoyed in each other’s society! It seems almost mpossiblc that I could either have conferred or received so much happiness. I feel

r,

1(S C. II. SI’URGEON’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

now, like you, very low in spirits; but a sweet promise in Ezekiel cheers me, ‘I will give thee the opening of the mouth in the midst of them.’ (This was in reference to the preparation of sermons for the; Sabbath. — S. S.) Surely my God has not forgotten me. Pray for me, my love; and may our united petitions win a blessing through the Saviour’s merit! Let us take heed of putting ourselves too prominently in our own hearts, but let us commit our way unto the Lord. ‘What I have in my own hand, 1 usually lose,’ s lid Luther; ‘but what 1 put into God’s hand, is still, and ever will be, in my possession.’ I need not send my love to you, for, though absent in body, my heart is with you still, and I am, your much-loved, and ardently-loving, C. II. S.”

“P.S. The devil has barked again in ‘I he Essex Standard. It contains another

letter. Never mind; when Sal an opens his mouth, he gives me an opportunity of ramming my sword down his throat.”

^Mlr REI’EY.)

“St. Ann’s Terrace,

“April, ’55.

“My Dearest,

“I thank you with warm and hearty thanks for the note just received. It is useless for me to attempt to tell you how much happiness I have had during the past week. Words are but cold dishes on which to serve up thoughts and feelings which come warm and glowing from the heart. I should like to express my appreciation of all the tenderness and care you have: shown towards me during this happy week; but I fear to pain you by thanks for what I know was a pleasure to you. I expect your thoughts have been busy to-day about ‘the crown jewels.’ (lie had talked of preaching on this subject. — S. S.) The gems may clifter in size, colour, richness, b.ud beauty, but even the smallest are ‘precious stones’, are they not?

“That Standard certainly does not bear ‘Excelsior ’ as its motto; nor can ‘Good will to men ’ be the device of its iloating pennon, but it matters not; we know that all is under the control of One of whom Asaph said, ‘Surely the wrath of man shall praise Thee; the remainder of wrath shalt Thou restrain.’ May His blessing rest in an especial manner on you to-night, my dearly-beloved; and on the approaching Sabbath, when you stand before the great congregation, may you be ‘filled with all the fulness of God’! Good-night. Fondly and faithfully yours, — SUSIE.”

The mention of 77/6- Essex Standard, in the foregoing letters, points to the fact that, even thus early in his ministerial career, the strife of tongues had commenced against God’s servant, and the cruel arrows of the wicked had sorely wounded him. He had also begun to learn that some of his severest critics were the very men who c. ii. SPURGEON’S AUTOI-JIOGKAPHY. 19

ought to have been his heartiest friends and warmest sympathizers. The first reference to this persecution is in a letter to me, written January i, 1855, where he says: — “I imd much stir has been made by ‘Job’s letter’, and hosts of unknown persons have risen up on my behalf. It seems very likely that King James (James Wells) will shake: his own throne by lifting- his hand against one: of the Lord’s little ones.” Then, in May, in one of the Saturday letters, there occur these sentences: —” I am down in the: valley, partiy because: of two desperate attacks in The Sheffield Independent, and 7 lie J^iipirc, and partly because I cannot find a subject. Vet iaith fails not. I know and believe the promise, and am not afraid to rest upon it. All the scars I receive, are scars of honour; so, faint heart, on to the battle! My love, were you here, how you would comfort me; but since you are not, I shall do what is better still, go upstairs alone, and pour out my griefs into my Saviour’s ear. ‘Jesus, Lover of ;//;- soul, I can to Thy bosom lly! ’

These were only the first lew drops of the terrible storm of detraction, calumny, and malice, which afterward burst upon him with unexampled fury; but which, blessed be God, he lived through, and lived down. I do not say more concerning these slanders, as they will be described in detail in later chapters.

When my parents removed to a house in Falcon Square, City, we met much more frequently, and grew to know each other better, while our hearts were knit closer and closer in purest love. A little more “training” also took place, for one day my beloved brought with him an ancient, rusty-looking book, and, to my amazement, said, “Now, darling, I want you to go carefully through this volume, marking all those paragraphs and sentences that strike you as being particularly sweet, or quaint, or instructive; will you do this forme?” Of course, I at once complied; but he did not know with what a trembling sense of my own inability the promise was given, nor how disqualified I then was to appreciate: the spiritual beauty of his favourite Puritan writers. It was the: simplest kind of literary work which he asked me to do, but I was such an utter stranger to such service, that it seemed a most important and difficult task to discover in that “dry” old book the bright diamonds and reel golel which he evidently reckoned were therein enshrined. Love, however, is a matchless teacher, and I was a willing pupil; and so, with help and suggestion from so dear a tutor, the: work went on from day to day till, in due time, a small volume made its appearance, which he called, Smooth Stones taken from Ancient Brooks. This title was a pleasant and Puritanic play upon the author’s name, and I think the compilers were well pleased with the results of their happy work together. I believe the little: book is out of print now, and copies are very rarely to be met with; but those who possess them may feel an added interest in their perusal, now that they know the sweet love-story which hides between their pages.

2O C. II. Sl’URCEON S AUTOninr.RAPlIY.

As the clays went by, my beloved’s preaching engagements multiplied exceedingly, yet he found time to make me very happy by his loving visits and letters; and, on Sunday mornings, 1 was nearly always allowed by my parents to enjoy his ministry. Vet this pleasure was mingled with much of pain; for, during the: early part of the year 1^55, he was preaching in Exeter Hall to vast crowds of people, and the strain on his physical power was terrible. Sometimes his voice would almost break and fail as he pleaded with sinners to come to Christ, or magnified the Lord in His sovereignty and righteousness. A glass of Chili vinegar always stood on a shelf under the: desk before him, and I knew what to expect when he had recourse to that remedy. Oh, how my heart ached for him! What sell-control I had to exercise to appear calm and collected, and keep quietly in my seat up in that little side gallery! How I longed to have the nlil to go and comfort and .:heer him when the service was over! lUit I had to walk away, as other people did, — I, who belonged to him, and was closer to his heart than anyone there! It was severe discipline for a young and loving spirit. I remember, with strange vividness at this long distance of time, the Sunday evening when he preached- from the text, “His Name shall endure for ever.” It was a subject in which he revelled, it was his chief delight to exalt his glorious Saviour, and he seemed in that discourse to be pouring out his very soul and life in homage and adoration before his gracious King. lUit I really thought he would have died there, in lace of all those people! At the end of the sermon, he made: a mighty effort to recover his vo.’ce; but utterance well-nigh failed, and only in broken accents could the pathetic peroration be heard, — “Let niy name perish, but let Christ’s Name last for ever! Jesus! fesus! JKSUS! Crown Him Lord of all! You will not hear me say anything else. These are my last words in Exeter Hall for this time. Jesus! Jesus! JKSTS! Crown JJiui Lord of all!” and then he fell back almost fainting in the chair behind him.

In after days, when the Lord had fully perfected for him that silver-toned voice which ravished men’s ears, while it melted their hearts, then: was seldom any recurrence of the painful scene 1 have attempted to describe. ‘On the contrary, he spoke with the utmost ease, in the largest buildings, to assembled thousands, and, as a master musician playing on a priceless instrument, he could at will either charm his audience with notes of dulcet sweetness, or ring forth the clarion tones of warning and alarm.

He used to say, playfully, that his throat had been macadamised; but, as a matter of fact, I believe that the constant and natural use of his voice, in the delivery of so many sermons and addresses, was the secret of his entire freedom from the serious malady generally known as “clergyman’s sore throat.” During this first visit to Exeter Hall, New Park Street Chapel was enlarged, and when this

C. II. SrURGEON’s Ab’ToliKxiKAl’iiV. 21

improvement was completed, he relumed to his own pulpit, the services at the hall ceased, and for a short time, at least, my fears for him were silenced.

I Jut his work went on increasing almost daily, and his popularity grew with rapid strides. Many notable services in the open-air were held about this time, and my letters give a glimpse of two of these occasions. On June 2, 1X55, he writes: — Last evening, about 500 persons came to the field, and afterwards adjourned to the chapel kindly lent by Mr. Lldridge. My Master gave me power and liberty. I am persuaded souls were saved; and, as for myself, I preached like the chief of sinners, to those who, like me, were chief sinners, too. Many were the tears, and not a few the smiles.”

Then, on the 231-0! of the same month, I had a jubilant letter, which commenced thus : — ‘Yesterday, I climbed to the summit of a minister’s glory. My congregation was enormous, I think 10,000 (this was in a field at Hackney); but certainly twice as many as at Exeter Hall. The Lord was with me, and the profoundest silence was observed; but, oh, the close, — never did mortal man receive a more enthusiastic ovation! I wonder I am alive! After the service:, five or six gentlemen endeavoured to clear a passage, but I was borne along, amid cheers, and prayers, and shouts, for about a quarter of an hour, — it really seemed more like a week! I was hurried round and round the field without hope of escape until, suddenly seeing a nice open carriage, with two occupants, standing near, I sprang in, and begged them to drive away. This they most kindly did, and I stood up, waving my hat, and crying, ‘The blessing of G<>d be with you!’ while, from thousands of heads the hats were lifted, and cheer after cheer was given. Surely, amid these plaudits I can hear the low rumblings of an advancing storm of reproaches; but even this I can bear for the Master’s sake.”

This was a true prophecy, for the time did come when the hatred of men to the truths he preached rose to such a height, that no scorn seemed too bitter, no sneer too contemptuous, to Iling at the preacher who boldly declared the gospel of the grace of God, as he had himself learned it at the cross of Christ; but, thank God, he lived to be honoured above most men for his uprightness and fidelity, and never, to the last moment of his life, did he change one jot or tittle of his belief, or vary an iota of his whole-hearted testimony to the divinity of the doctrines of free grace.