WHAT ONE SERMON DID

A Remarkable Story from Penn Country

When I went out from Paddington to find Penn, I knew I should get the kind of story you like to read, but I did not know much of the country around Beaconsfield. At the latter delightful, quiet place (from which Disraeli took his title) nobody seemed to know how or when the ‘buses ran. It appeared there had been a change-over and some reduction in the service. So I set out on foot, and a very narrow footpath took me through some charming woods, in which the birds and I seemed to have the world to ourselves. Penn is a typical old-world village, unspoiled, though there is a good deal of motor traffic through it now. As I came into the village I noticed one pretty cottage had over its portal a board on which was painted, “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” I fell in love at once with the little village green on which is the war memorial. A few children were playing outside the school opposite, but there were few other signs of life.

Penn parish contains the hamlets of Penn Street, Knotty Green, and Forty Green. There are several seventeenth-century cottages, refaced with modern brick-work. The most conspicuous building apart from the church is the Crown Inn, a seventeenth-century house, modernised.

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I went by some very old yew trees into the ancient church, sat down, and meditated on the famous folk who have been associated with it. A lady who was practising on the organ said, “I hope I don’t disturb you.” Far from it. She was playing over and over a hymn tune with which Methodists are very familiar. The old church wants money to deal with the ravages of the death-watch beetle. It was built in 1213, and the parish registers are some of the earliest in the kingdom. From the tower roof a view of surpassing beauty, including parts of no less than twelve counties and, incidentally, Windsor Castle, can be seen. In the nave there is a vault containing the remains of the six sons of Thomas Penn. The inscription on the stone states that he was “proprietor of Pennsylvania.” These boys died, I believe, in infancy, but there were so many memorials bearing the names of Curzon, Howe, Penn, that I had to refresh my memory later as to the founder of Pennsylvania. I expect many readers know Jordans, four miles away, where William Penn is buried. His first and second wives are also buried there. He left three sons, John, Thomas and Richard. The Penn family had much property in this district.

I walked along the village street, and came to a neat little Wesleyan Reform Chapel, the foundation stone of which was laid by Thomas Chamberlain in 1875. It has since been enlarged. I liked the green little burial-ground around it, especially the grave tastefully laid out as a garden. There are some of those green old carved boards, looking something like stocks, similar to those in the parish churchyard. This Chapel is in the High Wycombe Circuit. I noticed at an ivy-covered cottage a bill announcing that the Sunday School children were to have an outing to Clacton, and a good lady asked me inside and told me how well the cause was progressing. The congregations are very good, she said, and we have some splendid local preachers. There is an ex-Primitive Methodist Chapel at Tyler’s Green, a little distance away. We talked of Thomas Garland – and that brings me to the great story of what God wrought through one sermon.

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The sermon was heard by Mrs. Garland, the wife of Charles Garland, of Penn. I do not know exactly what year it was but, at Windsor, Mrs. Garland heard Dr. Adam Clarke. The discourse made such an impression upon here that she was led to see her trust must be not in the Church or its sacraments, but in the living Christ. She went home to Penn the next day and told her husband how her heart had been warmed. He was soon led into the same happy experience. They withdrew from the parish Church and joined a small company of Methodists, some of whom had been converted under the preaching of John Wesley during his visits to the neighbouring town of High Wycombe.

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Then the blow fell. Mr. Garland was employed by Lord Curzon Howe, son of the famous Admiral who is buried in Westminster Abbey[1]. Lord Howe’s steward sent for Garland. “Now, my man,” he said curtly, “you can make your choice. You give up Methodism and return to worship at the parish church, or you are dismissed from your work on the estate.” Garland made the reply you would expect from him: “I have made my choice. I am going to remain a Methodist. My conscience will not allow me to obey your order.” “Well,” said the unjust steward, “you can please yourself. I’ll give you a week to think it over. Lord Howe will not allow dissenters to work for him. You have been brought up in the church. For some years your uncle was our vicar[2]. There’s no reason whatever why you should become a Methodist.” Garland stood firm. He told the steward that he wanted no time for reflection and he would not give up his fellowship with the little Methodist society. In the following week the steward asked him to make up his accounts, and he was paid off. For several years his sole occupation had been that of estate builder to Lord Howe, the position having been held by his family for generations.

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The Penn Methodists needed a bold leader, and were greatly helped by the membership of Mr. and Mrs. Garland. The cause began to prosper. But not so the worldly affairs of the good man. About three years later Mr. Garland told his wife she need not lock the cash box as it was empty. He was both workless and penniless. These were hard times. There was war with France. Food was scarce and dear, and it was almost impossible to obtain work apart from military service. Taking his long carpenter’s pencil from his pocket, Charles Garland balanced it up and down on his forefinger, saying to his family, “Today is the parting of the ways; we shall either go up or down.” “It will be up!” cried his good wife. They knelt down for their usual family prayer. The reading of a Psalm – “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble” – was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. A messenger from Lord Howe had come with a letter. His lordship had been serving his country abroad for three years and had unexpectedly arrived home. He wanted to see Mr. Garland at once. Charles set off for Penn House and, as he walked through the woods, the words kept coming into his mind – “We are at the parting of the ways; we shall either go up or down today.”

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Arriving at Penn House, he found Lord Howe waiting for him in the library. ‘Now, Garland,” said his lordship, after referring to an anonymous letter he had received, “what is all this about? I had no idea you had been dismissed from the estate and were in great distress. What happened?” “I think, my lord,” said Garland, quietly, “it would be better if you put that question to your steward.” “Certainly, I will see him today,” said Lord Howe. “Come here again tomorrow and we’ll put matters right.” That same afternoon the steward was shown the anonymous letter and was asked for an explanation. “It is true,” he said, “that I dismissed Mr. Garland because he became a Methodist and refused to return to the Church. I thought it was the only way to bring him to his senses.” “I should like to know,” cried Lord Howe angrily, “what a man’s conscience concerning his religion has to do with you if he is a good employee. In my name you have brutally persecuted a man whom I respect. There is only one course for me to take. You are my steward no longer. Hand over all your papers. I shall allow you a small pension, but if you want it to continue, keep out of my sight, for I never want to see you again!” The discomfited steward slunk away, speechless.

* * * *

Later, Lord Howe expressed his regret to Mr. Garland. “I want a steward,” he said, “and you shall be the man for, if you are so loyal to your God, you are sure to serve me faithfully in earthly things.” This proved true. Garland exercised a great influence in the locality. The vicar of the parish was among those who were led to a deeper experience of evangelical truth. Lord Howe and his family became deeply interested in the earnest efforts of the Methodists. A Chapel was built. During the later years of Mr. Garland’s stewardship, somewhere about 1849[3], his employer instructed him to build Penn Street Parish Church. Penn Street is a small village about two and a half miles from Penn. The church faces the entrance gates to Penn House, a mansion of brick in a small park of thirty-two acres, the ancestral abode of the Howe family. You could not imagine a more picturesque or a more beautifully-situated sanctuary. It is built of flint, and its tall spire rises above the pine woods which surround it. I wonder how many visitors to the church have heard the story of the staunch Methodist who built it. The church was thoroughly restored by Earl Howe in memory of his father in 1900 at a cost of £1,000. King Edward VII worshipped here in January, 1902, when he was visiting Earl Howe.

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Now as I wandered about the leafy lanes in the vicinity of Penn, I thought much about the far-reaching results of that sermon at Windsor. What an illustration it is! Two of Charles Garland’s sons became ministers. One daughter married the Rev. Benditto Lissolo, the first Roman Catholic priest to enter the Wesleyan Methodist ministry. He was the pioneer of Wesleyan Methodist work in Italy in 1861, when Garibaldi, his personal friend, delivered Italy from the yoke of the Pope. Charles Garland’s second son[4], Thomas Charles (of whom several people spoke to me when I was in Penn), was the pioneer of Wesleyan missions to seamen in the Port of London. He first preached in London in 1842, and was a visiting preacher at Stepney Central Hall just before the war. He recorded some remarkable incidents of his long ministry in Leaves From My Log and other volumes which had a wide circulation. Through him many men entered the ministry. His monument is the Queen Victoria Seamen’s Rest, Poplar, the splendid work of which has so often been described in these columns.

That is not the end of the story. I do not know where it will end. Three sons, three grandsons and one great-grandson of the Rev. T. C. Garland entered the ministry. One grandson is the Rev. Thomas Garland, of New Zealand, whose radio ministry reaches thousands who are too far away from churches to attend divine worship. (What would Adam Clarke have thought if he could have foreseen that!) Then there is the Rev. Henry James Garland, at present at Robin Hood’s Bay, whose effective ministry will be known to many readers. He carries on the tradition. A few years ago, I understand, he had the joy of leading to Christ a young fellow from Switzerland who entered the Wesleyan ministry and was sent to Rome and among his converts three at least became preachers and are doing good work in Italy and Africa!

The whole point of this article is that you never know what may be the results down the years of one earnest evangelical sermon. It may be as in this case, like the rolling of a snowball. And the best of it is, such a story is never finished.

H. M.

Notes:

Charles Garland (1790-1846):

Steward of Lord Curzon Howe, Penn

Built Penn Street Parish Church;

Thomas Charles Garland:

Son of Charles Garland;

Pioneer of Wesleyan Mission to London Seamen;

Author of Leaves of My Log

Thomas Garland:

Grandson of Charles Garland;

Radio Minister in New Zealand

Henry James Garland:

Grandson of Charles Garland;

Biographer of Henry Francis Lyte (Author of Abide With Me); and dedicated Lyte’s Memorial Church in Brixham, Devon

[1] According to another source, there may be an error here. “Admiral Earl Howe is buried in a family vault at Langar in Nottinghamshire and has a monument by Flaxman in St Paul's Cathedral. And he had three daughters and no son!”

[2] Rev Benjamin Anderson was the vicar from 1808 to 1812, when he died; he was a notable amateur astronomer. I have miniature portraits of him and his wife, Rebecca Clarke (Charles Garland’s mother’s sister).

[3] It must have been earlier than this, as Charles Garland died in May 1846.

[4] He may have been the fourth son; perhaps two of the other three died in infancy.