Part 2

IT was in the month of May, 1801, that the members of the congregation united in a very earnest call to Mr. John Clayton to become their minister. As no fewer than a hundred names appear as signatories, we may infer that considerable progress had been made under Mr. Lake’s ministry. Mr. Clayton was still formally unordained, though he had been assistant minister to the Rev. John Winter at Newbury for one year since leaving college. He was barely twenty-one years of age when he came to Kensington to take up the work of the pastorate. The portrait of him that adorns the Deacons’ Vestry, and which is here reproduced, was clearly taken in the maturity of middle-life. He maintained admirably the traditions of the Clayton family. His father, the Rev. John Clayton, was a well-known divine, of the most approved style of pulpit manners. We read with a kind of awe of his “thickly-powdered head” and his general magnificence of demeanour. Both his sons, George and John, inherited their father’s ideal. We have heard it said that the Kensington congregation has never assembled punctually on Sunday morning since John Clayton’s day. It was part of the service to watch the procession of their minister from the vestry to the pulpit. Young as he was, he bore himself so bravely, in full canonicals, with gloved hands and dignified movements, that it is no wonder the congregation conceived a great admiration for his person. No one can look at his portrait without perceiving that he was a man of commanding presence; and we surely cannot wonder if he knew it, and utilised it to the best advantage. And it is only just to him to add, that the effect of his preaching was by no means due solely, or mainly, to his striking appearance. He was a man of great mental abilities, and had had considerable culture. He was thus admirably adapted in many ways to the sphere he was called to occupy. With a liking for the best society, and a distinguished appearance, his courtly habits of speech and carriage gained him a deference that was not commonly paid to Dissenting preachers. If the assiduous cultivation of these personal characteristics had tended to make him less alive to the spiritual necessities of his people, we should have been justified in depreciating them. But it had not that effect. One has only to read the energetic charge, which his father delivered to him at the ordination service at Kensington, to see that the fastidiousness of outward manner and apparel of the elder Clayton were not incompatible with a directness, incisiveness, and even vehemence of speech, that the warmest partisan might covet. It seems probable that John Clayton took his father’s advice not to be an “unfaithful, accommodating pastor” in its most literal sense. He had been told in the ordination charge not only “to feed the flock, but to _drive away_ the grievous wolves”; an exhortation which permitted of a mischievous application. The writer of this sketch dare not indulge in comments on the impatience of youth, and there is very little evidence of any kind in the Church records. But what there is is all in John Clayton’s favour. The Church was by no means clear of the commercial spirit. The only view of its functions still held by many was that it was a society for managing certain business in connection with the expenses of public worship. That such questions must inevitably arise, and that they should be discussed and answered from a Christian standpoint, is beyond dispute. But it says much for John Clayton that the constant intrusion of the merely financial element, and the failure of those in authority to realise the spiritual mission of the Church, caused him such concern, that he felt compelled to resign his ministry. Possibly he was unprepared for the necessarily slow and difficult work of permeating a society of characteristically business men with the deepest religious spirit. The membership of the Church stood still. Mr. Clayton said that he found his sentiments on many subjects, but especially that of the Lord’s Supper, opposed to those of many of the members. He was not himself a man who would be easily carried away with a rush of enthusiasm, and hence he did not carry away others. God was, even then, preparing just such a man to break down the unspirituality of the congregation, and to build up a higher form of Christian society in Kensington; and this man was still at college when John Clayton’s resignation was accepted in December, 1804.

IV—SIXTEEN YEARS OF SPIRITUAL PROGRESS—REV. JOHN LEIFCHILD

[Picture: Rev. Dr. Leifchild]

IF the congregation at Kensington felt that John Clayton acted with something of the rashness and impatience of youth, there was at least no sign that they so regarded it: for after unsuccessful overtures had been made to the Rev. F. Hamilton, of Brighton, to become successor to Mr. Clayton, they turned to another young man fresh from college, whose name was John Leifchild. After patiently waiting until he had completed the few remaining months of his college course, they welcomed him to the pastorate in June, 1808; and a very remarkable ministry then began. It is impossible to feel surprise at Mr. Leifchild’s frank avowal of the defects of the congregation considered as a spiritual society. Any one who has wearily made his way through the minutes in the church-book relating to this period, might be pardoned for concluding that no spiritual body existed at all. The government of the church was in the hands of a small coterie of managers; and the records consist of an uninspiring succession of financial statistics and plans for raising money. To those of us who are more interested in the character of the Church than in the idiosyncrasies of any particular minister, these accounts are not good to read. Mr. Leifchild says, “There was a great prejudice in the town against the Dissenters”; and one can hardly wonder at that when we remember that Dissenters can only justify their existence as Dissenters by the superiority of their spiritual thought and work: and of this at present there is but too little trace in the history that we have received. But in every way—patience, perseverance, tact and courage—John Leifchild was just the man to inaugurate a better era. At this time the church made a resolute and successful endeavour to liquidate the old debt on the buildings: and then, after the manner of high-spirited communities, proceeded to contract a new one. The young minister had almost immediately attained considerable popularity, and a back gallery had to be erected. In a short time side galleries had to be added, to accommodate the people who desired to worship at Hornton Street Chapel. All these alterations involved the congregation in somewhat expensive liabilities, and, in addition, the incidental expenditure had not been met. These were only the necessary penalties of success, and it was quite clear that all would come right in time. But the financial apprehensions of the managers were excited; and they actually formulated proposals for taxing the seat-holders, inserting in their plan, however, a suitable declaration of their devotion to the voluntary principle. The proposals were overthrown by the unwavering resistance of Mr. Leifchild, and the voluntary principle, fairly applied, proved more than adequate to the necessities of the time.

Our Sunday Schools to-day are such a notable feature of Kensington Chapel, that it is interesting to find a record of this kind, dated February 22nd, 1814: “Resolved—In consequence of no other place being found so convenient as the _vault_ under the chapel for a Sunday School, that we take the same into consideration.” We are sometimes tempted to complain of the discomforts of our present buildings, but those who began the work had to do it obviously under difficulties of which we know little. The managers, however, could not finally consent to bury the Sunday School in the vault,—and hence, by the removal of the staircase, a room was fitted up under the back gallery, and here the Sunday School was very narrowly housed. This important question having been thus disposed of, a more serious problem arose—that of music. There was at this time no organ; but it was natural that one so distinguished in the musical world as Mr. Broadwood should desire the introduction of a suitable instrument. Mr. Broadwood not only desired it; but he was liberal enough to offer to present an organ to the chapel. The conscientious objection to instrumental music in religious buildings is now, for the most part, ancient history. But feeling ran high on the question in the days I am writing of, and one “true-blue Presbyterian,” as Dr. Stoughton calls him, would have none of the new-fangled methods, and retired with his family from the scene, entering his protest against the whole proceedings in stout British fashion. Mr. Broadwood gave the organ; and the treasurer had great difficulty, apparently, in paying the organist; and, what with periodical discontinuance of the organ on the score of expense, and criticism of the organist by the congregation, the musical affairs were far from smooth and pleasant for some time to come. Kensington music has never ceased to be a source of anxious solicitude to the Church from that day to this.

Many are the stories of Mr. Leifchild’s power of preaching, and it is evident that he prepared his discourses with great care. His method of delivery was somewhat singular, and we should be inclined to regard it as artificial. But it was capable of great effect. The main portion of the discourse was delivered in a quiet, conversational tone, and was occupied in doctrinal, or exegetical, exposition. The audience listened languidly, if not drowsily. But suddenly there was an awakening. The preacher was approaching his application. Standing full back in the pulpit, and mustering all his energy, he proceeded to declaim the final passages of the sermon. In these he drove home the truths he had elicited in exposition with amazing force. The congregation was now listening with breathless interest. This was what they had come to hear; and they were simply at the preacher’s mercy for the remainder of his discourse. This old style of preaching has almost entirely, if not altogether, disappeared. But it was a great power in those days, and there were few more absolute masters of the art than John Leifchild. There are still two members connected with Kensington Chapel who were in Mr. Leifchild’s Bible Class.

After sixteen years of faithful ministry, Mr. Leifchild accepted a call to Bristol, and left amid genuine expressions of regret. It is interesting to note that, immediately after his departure, the minutes, which have only recorded “Managers’ meetings,” change to “Managers’ and Deacons’ meetings.” The introduction of the spiritual order of office-bearers is not without significance. Neither is the fact that the next minister was invited, not by the subscribers and trustees, but by the Church. Evidently “the old order changeth, yielding place to new”; and John Leifchild’s greatest success was his last—for we can hardly doubt that it was his—when the spiritual order superseded the purely business order, and the power of a body of managers gave way to the authority of a Church of Christ.

V—PROSPERITY UNDER DR. ROBERT VAUGHAN

[Picture: Rev. Robert Vaughan. D.D.]

IN the minutes that describe the events immediately succeeding the resignation of Mr. Leifchild, in August, 1824, there are several references to the institution of a Church Prayer Meeting. Such an anxious period as inevitably follows the loss of a minister is often a valuable discipline to a Church, as tending to throw the members back upon the guidance of the Spirit of God. That the Church at Kensington had realised the need to consult, not only with one another, but with the All-wise, was the best possible augury of prosperity to come. And, verily, God did choose for them. Dr. Robert Vaughan was a very different man in many ways from Mr. Leifchild, but no one could have been more admirably adapted to continue and develop the work that the Church had hitherto been doing. He had all the instincts and tastes of a scholar; and as a brilliant historical writer he exercised a wider ministry, and influenced a larger circle, than if he had simply exercised his gifts as a preacher in the Hornton Street pulpit. So considerable was his fame that he was appointed Professor of Modern History at London University; and, with the generosity which has always characterised the Kensington congregation in such matters, his people spared him gladly much of the labour of visitation, for the sake of the services he was thus able to render to the rising generation of Londoners. Kensington was now assuming the character it has ever since possessed, of a great residential suburb for aristocratic and wealthy London. There was a large circle of able and cultivated men and women to be reached and influenced by the attraction of one, whose personal attainments and powers were sufficiently remarkable to overcome the strong prejudices against Dissenting meeting-places that have always existed in the minds of such. This power Dr. Vaughan possessed and exercised: while at the same time his personal elevation of character, and rare spiritual earnestness, qualified him pre-eminently to be a guide to all who knew him in “the deep things of God.” We are consequently quite prepared to find that the little meeting-house in Hornton Street was a centre of light and leading to a large number of men and women who occupied prominent positions in society and in the professions. And yet the last accusation that could be levelled against Dr. Vaughan was that of a “tuft-hunter.” He did not _stoop_ to conquer, in the sense of descending to any unworthy artifices: he flattered no one; and his reputation as one of the great historians of Nonconformity is sufficient assurance that he never betrayed his trust as a custodian of the sacred interests of religious freedom.

One of the signs of the earnestness of the Church at this time, in seeking to perpetuate the principles for which it stood, was the constant interest manifested in the work of the British Schools, for which Dr. Vaughan repeatedly preached special sermons. The school used to meet in a building at the back of Hornton Street Chapel. No attempt was made to indoctrinate the infant mind with denominational ideas; but, on the other hand, such religious instruction was given as is clearly to be gathered from the study of the Bible, and any child could be educated there without being required to learn by heart the exceedingly questionable teaching of the Church Catechism. For a long period of years these schools remained in very close touch with the Congregational Church, and were only eventually transferred to the management of the School Board when the general scheme of religious education, under the Board, was seen to be thoroughly in harmony with what had prevailed so long in the British Schools.

It is by such simple notices as those concerning the British Schools, the Missionary Society, the Sunday Schools, and other institutions, that we can form our idea of the many interests that were beginning to take possession of the hearts of the people. The records during Dr. Vaughan’s ministry are singularly imperfect, and it is only quite incidentally that we get some impression of the steadily increasing prosperity of the cause. For eighteen years Dr. Vaughan continued his ministry, and there is not a single evidence of a moment’s break in the harmony of the Church. When, in 1843, Dr. Vaughan was honoured with an invitation to become Principal of the Lancashire Independent College, the letters of himself and of the Church were such as became those who had lived and worked so long together in the most honourable spirit of Christian fellowship. The letter of the Church is exceedingly touching in its anxiety to express to the full its ardent and affectionate attachment to Dr. Vaughan, and yet to do nothing to add to the necessary pain and anxiety of his decision. Dr. Vaughan felt that the call to Lancashire was of God, and he placed his resignation in the hands of the Church. But even then, his interest in their welfare was unabated; and he knew the perils of a time of unsettlement. There was one well known to him, and to whom he was related by many affinities of thought and sympathy, who was labouring at that time in a sphere of less influence at Windsor; and, before he left Kensington, he approached Dr. John Stoughton, and obtained from him the promise that he would consent to preach before the Kensington congregation. Two months afterwards Dr. Stoughton accepted a unanimous invitation from the Church, and commenced his ministry. Before closing this chapter, one word must be added. There are many sacred memories connected with Hornton Street Chapel, and those who used to worship there; but none more sacred to all who honour those in whom pure genius stands united to simple faith and devout spirituality, than those associated with the name of Robert Alfred Vaughan. He was the beloved son of Dr. Vaughan, and the highest hopes were cherished for him by a large circle of religious and literary men. He entered the Congregational ministry, and gave to the world a work of the greatest promise, entitled “Hours with the Mystics.” His own beautiful spirit breathed through every page. But his work was too arduous, and he died in early manhood. It has been said that if he had avoided the fatigue of constant pastoral duty, he might have lived on to do brilliant intellectual work. It may be so. But perhaps he chose the better part, and did the greater work, as will one day be known. At any rate, he has left us his own answer, in what has been called his “Psalm of Life.”

“And thou canst not in life’s city Rule thy course as in a cell: There are others, all thy brothers, Who have work to do as well.

“Some events that mar thy purpose May light _them_ upon their way; Our sun—shining, in declining— Gives earth’s other side the day.

“Every star is drawn and draweth ’Mid the orbits of its peers; And the blending thus unending Makes the music of the spheres.”

Of Robert Alfred Vaughan we still love to conjecture what he _is_, or, as some prefer to put it, what he would have been if he had lived. He was the Arthur Hallam of Nonconformity.

VI—ENLARGING OUR BORDERS—DR. STOUGHTON’S MINISTRY.

[Picture: Rev. Dr. Stoughton. By kind permission of Messrs. Elliott & Fry]

THE succession of Dr. Stoughton to the ministry of the Church brings us exactly to the middle of our century of history. In October, 1843, the recognition service was held. Dr. Stoughton, in his letter accepting the invitation, had feelingly referred to the difficulty of following Dr. Vaughan, “one whose eminence in the Christian world might well provoke, in connection with myself, humiliating comparisons.” But, indeed, the Church had been guided to one of the very few men who might fittingly continue the work of Dr. Vaughan. As a historian of those periods of English history in which Nonconformists are especially interested, Dr. Stoughton stands unsurpassed among Englishmen; and such is the fairness and moderation of his writings that Church of England lecturers have repeatedly made appeal to them as models of impartial and accurate statement. Indeed, Dr. Stoughton’s literary industry has been immense. The Religious Tract Society has largely benefited by admirably written accounts of the great Reformers and religious heroes of Christendom, while Dr. Stoughton’s editorship of the _Evangelical Magazine_ was conspicuously successful in making that organ a power among the Churches. But it was in no partial or half-hearted way that he threw himself into his ministerial work at Kensington. Our readers must turn to his own inimitable narrative in “Congregationalism in the Court Suburb” for the delightful reminiscences he gives of his own ministry, and the people associated with it. Our concern is with the growth of the Church life; and to this end we must pursue our examination of the records, which are henceforth admirably kept.

That Dr. Stoughton immediately acquired the full confidence and loyal support of the Church officers and members is evident from a very remarkable fact. For many years past the Church had been, in all essential procedure, a Congregational Church; but, although it was so in fact, it was not so actually in form. The members had apparently not been led to see the importance of constituting themselves according to the New Testament practice. We all know that it is not easy to carry out important changes without arousing considerable criticism, and, not unusually, opposition. And for the truer fashioning of the Church upon more Apostolic lines there was needed a strong and wise leadership. This leadership was supplied by the new minister, and the delicate work of reorganisation was most successfully and harmoniously carried through. The existing “managers” became deacons, and new deacons were appointed; and the Church assumed the form which it has ever since maintained. It was of excellent augury for the success of his ministry that Dr. Stoughton perceived so early that the recognition of the spiritual order of the Church in form, as well as in fact, was a vital principle. However much of the subsequent development of our Church we may attribute to Dr. Stoughton’s able and devoted ministry, we are bound to attribute even more to this bold and timely assertion of the true idea of the Church.

The time soon came when the Hornton Street Chapel proved too small for the number of hearers. Kensington was, even now, rapidly developing, and every month added to the congregations that assembled to worship in what was never a large building. What enlargement could easily be made was carried out in 1845, but it afforded only temporary relief. There had evidently come to the Church one of those testing times of faith and sacrifice which prove the genuineness of the spirit and the life. The district of Notting Hill was becoming an influential and populous one, and the conviction was laying hold of the minds and hearts of many, that it was a clear duty to Christ that a certain number of the members should consent to break with the old associations of Hornton Street, and form a new Church in the district just mentioned. Such a proposal, of course, meant even more than the severance of very sacred ties that bound them to the old society, and to their loved minister. It meant a generous offering of their money for the new building. But to all these demands the Church was equal. At a meeting held in the vestry at Hornton Street, £1700 was at once subscribed, and, in a very tender and beautiful document, that betrays in every line the sorrow that they felt at thus going forth from a place and a community so dear to them, thirty-seven members ask to be commissioned by the Hornton Street Church to form a new society at Horbury, Notting Hill. An exodus of this kind, where the spirit is entirely of love and faith, is a memorable and impressive event. Something like one hundred seat-holders left Hornton Street for Horbury; but the two congregations remained one in heart, as they were one in tradition. Under the long and able ministry of the Rev. William Roberts, the Horbury Church has been a great power for good in that neighbourhood. We reproduce a photograph of the chapel, which stands on an admirable site, and presents a very good appearance.

[Picture: Horbury Chapel, Notting Hill]