Some years ago a friend mentioned that she had never read anything by C. H. Spurgeon because she thought his writings would be over her head. Her husband, a student in Bible college at the time, assured her that would not be the case, so she began to read some of his books. She was happily surprised to find that he was very readable and down to earth. Her remarks intrigued me because I had felt the same way about Spurgeon. I began to read some of his books and made the same happy discovery myself.*
Some years after that I came across a biography of his wife titled Mrs. C. H. Spurgeon by Charles Ray. It is out of print, but used copies are available online, and it looks like the text is online here. Originally published in 1905, the language is very old-fashioned to modern ears, but it is easily readable and gives a sweet picture of a godly lady well suited to her husband as well as glimpses of their home life.
Susannah wasn’t impressed by Spurgeon at first, though. She had believed on the Lord Jesus Christ but was in a state of coldness and indifference when she first heard him speak as a guest at her church. She had heard good things about him, but she was shocked at his youth and “countrified” manner. She wrote later:
“Ah! how little I then thought that my eyes looked on him who was to be my life’s beloved; how little I dreamed of the honor God was preparing for me in the near future! It is a mercy that our lives are not left for us to plan, but that our Father chooses for us; else might we sometimes turn away from our best blessings, and put from us the choicest and loveliest gifts of His providence. For, if the whole truth be told, I was not at all fascinated by the young orator’s eloquence, while his countrified manner and speech excited more regret than reverence. Alas, for my vain and foolish heart! I was not spiritually-minded enough to understand his earnest presentation of the Gospel and his powerful pleading with sinners; – but the huge, black satin stock, the long badly-trimmed hair, and the blue pocket handkerchief with white spots which he himself has so graphically described, – these attracted most of my attention and I fear awakened some feelings of amusement.”
He was called to be her pastor, and she kept going to hear him. Eventually she changed her mind not only about him, but about the spiritual state of her own heart.
Not many months later they were with a large group of friends watching the opening of the Crystal Palace, he pointed out a passage in a book he was reading and asked her what she thought. The title of the passage was “On Marriage,” and the quote:
“‘Seek a good wife of thy God, for she is the best gift of His providence; Yet ask not in bold confidence that which He hath not promised: Thou knowest not His good will; be thy prayer then submissive thereunto; And leave thy petition to His mercy assured that He will deal well with thee. If thou art to have a wife of thy youth, she is now living on the earth; Therefore think of her and pray for her well!’
“‘Do you pray for him who is to be your husband?’ said a soft, low voice in my ear, – so soft that no one else heard the whisper. I do not remember that the question received any vocal answer; but my fast-beating heart, which sent a tell-tale flush to my cheeks, and my downcast eyes, which feared to reveal the light which at once dawned in them, may have spoken a language which love understood. From that moment a very quiet and subdued little maiden sat by the young Pastor’s side, and while the brilliant procession passed round the Palace, I do not think she took so much note of the glittering pageant defiling before her, as of the crowd of newly-awakened emotions which were palpitating within her heart.”
She did have to learn how to share her husband with an adoring public and how to encourage him when public sentiment turned against him, how to respond well when he was sometimes distracted or busy with sermon preparations and other duties.
They had twin sons, Charles and Thomas. Susannah never regained her strength and at times was pretty much an invalid, unable to go with Spurgeon to his speaking engagements. In one sweet testimony of one of her sons, he said,
“I trace my early conversion directly to her earnest pleading and bright example. She … taught me to sing, but to mean it first, – ‘I do believe, I will believe, That Jesus died for me; That, on the cross, He shed His blood From sin to set me free.’ My dear brother was brought to Christ through the pointed word of a missionary; but he, too, gladly owns that mother’s influence and teaching had their part in the matter. By these, the soil was made ready for a later sowing.”
One of her major ministries was a book fund for preachers. It came about this way:
Incredible as it may seem, the state of things revealed when the Book Fund was started was so bad that many ministers had been unable to buy a new book for ten years. “Does anybody wonder if preachers are sometimes dull?” was C. H. Spurgeon’s comment on this fact. Like most other important works, the Book Fund grew from a very simple beginning, and there was no idea at the first of the wonderful way in which the movement would develop. In the summer of 1875 Mr. Spurgeon completed the first volume of his “Lectures to my Students,” and, having given a proof copy to his wife, asked her what she thought of the book. “I wish I could place it in the hands of every minister in England,” was the reply, and the preacher at once rejoined, “Then why not do so: how much will you give?” This was driving the nail home with a vengeance. Mrs. Spurgeon was not prepared for such a challenge, but she began to wonder if she could not spare the money from her housekeeping or personal account. It would necessitate pressure somewhere, she knew, for money was not plentiful just then. Suddenly a flash of memory made the whole way clear. “Upstairs in a little drawer were some carefully hoarded crown pieces, which, owing to some foolish fancy, I had been gathering for years whenever chance threw one in my way; these I now counted out and found they made a sum exactly sufficient to pay for one hundred copies of the work. If a twinge of regret at parting from my cherished but unwieldy favorites passed over me, it was gone in an instant, and then they were given freely and thankfully to the Lord, and in that moment, though I knew it not, the Book Fund was inaugurated.
In the next edition of his publication of The Sword and the Trowel, Spurgeon mentioned the need, and people began to send in both donations and used books (the latter not always of use to preachers, though, like French Grammar and Exercises).
She was also a skilled writer and wrote a variety of things in her later years, including a biography of her husband.
One delight in this book are the many excerpts of letters between the Spurgeons. Here are a few:
“God bless you,” wrote the husband on one occasion [when he had to travel for rest}, “and help you to bear my absence. Better that I should be away well, than at home suffering – better to your loving heart, I know. Do not fancy, even for a moment, that absence could make our hearts colder to each other; our attachment is now a perfect union, indissoluble for ever. My sense of your value and experience of your goodness are now united to the deep passion of love which was there at the first alone. Every year casts out another anchor to hold me even more firmly to you, though none was needed even from the first. May my own Lord, whose chastening hand has necessitated this absence, give you a secret inward recompense in soul and also another recompense in the healing of the body! All my heart remains; in your keeping.”
“I had two such precious letters from you this morning, worth to me far more than all the gems of ancient or modern art. The material of which they, are composed is their main value, though there is also no mean skill revealed in its manipulation. They are pure as alabaster, far more precious than porphyry or verd antique; no mention shall be made of malachite or onyx, for love, surpasses them all.”
Charles Haddon Spurgeon looked upon the writing of these letters as more than a loving duty to, his wife. Knowing how pressed he was with other correspondence that had to be attended to, and with literary work, she often used to urge him to write less often to her, so as to get more rest for himself, but this he would not hear of, and except when taking a long railway journey, he used to write a letter to his wife every day that he was absent from her. “Every word I write,” he says in one note, “is a pleasure to me, as much as ever it can be to you; it is only a lot of odds and ends I send you, but I put them down as they come, so that you may see it costs me no labor, but is just a happy scribble. Don’t fret because I write you so many letters; it is such a pleasure to tell out my joy.”
At another time, when sending some pen and ink sketches which he had made of the women’s head-dresses in Italy, he writes, “Now, sweetheart, may these trifles amuse you; I count it a holy work to draw them, if they cause you but one happy smile.”
This note seems to sum up his estimation of her value to him.
“None know how grateful I am to God for you. In all I have ever done for Him you have a large share, for in making me so happy you have fitted me for service. Not an ounce of power has ever been lost to the good cause through you. I have served the Lord far more and never less for your sweet companionship”
* Though I have benefited very much from reading Spurgeon, I am not a Calvinist, so would differ from him on some of those points.
(This will also be linked to Semicolon‘s Saturday Review of Books.)