William Booth was just 23 when Spalding’s Free (or Reformed) Methodists invited him to become their minister. He had no theological or ministerial training. What he did have was a passionate, burning zeal to bring the poor, the destitute, the outcasts of this world to God.
He’d ‘seen the light’ at the age of 15, as an apprentice pawnbroker, and had started to preach in the poorest and most squalid streets of his native Nottingham. Despairing of the comfortable, middle- class respectability into which the Methodist Church had by then settled, the fiery 17-year-old led his ragged slum listeners off the street one Sunday into the Wesley Chapel and seated them in the best pews. He was roundly reprimanded and told in future to use the back door and the obscure benches set apart for the poor and shabby. Later, after moving to London, he was expelled from the Walworth Chapel for refusing to give up his street preaching, and turned to the break-away Free Methodists.
With his pawnshop job lost as well, he was virtually penniless when the call came from the Spalding Free Methodists. Their leading light was Mr.Major Shadford, a chemist in the Market Place and an increasingly influential local figure. (It would be interesting to know if Shadford had learned of the young man from a London acquaintance or had come across him by chance preaching in the street.)
Arrived in Spalding, Booth lodged first in Red Lion Street and immediately threw himself into the work. Services were held in the old Assembly Rooms in Broad Street (where the Spalding Club now is, opposite the Herring Lane carpark). But the Spalding circuit was enormous, stretching from Boston to Holbeach Drove, with over 30 Free Methodist groups to serve and organise, mostly on foot, sometimes “sitting down under hedges to rest,” he recalled. “I have tramped many a mile in these Fens, up to the ankles in mud, not knowing sometimes how to get my feet out again without leaving my boots behind me.”
He preached in scattered little chapels, in the open air and in farm kitchens with ceilings so low he could scarce stand upright. The on-going dispute between the Reformers and the Wesleyans meant that it was not always clear who owned a particular chapel. At Sutterton the Reformers were locked out, and “the people had to get in through the window.”
His energy was prodigious. In his first week, for example, he preached in Holbeach (Wednesday), Moulton (Thursday), Weston Hills (Friday), Holbeach again (Sunday morning), Fleet Fen (Sunday afternoon), Holbeach (in the evening), Spalding (Monday) and Donnington (Tuesday).
Much to the concern of his betrothed back in London. Charlotte wrote: “No man can sustain incessant toil … and you must tell them.” And Joseph Ashwell, his next door neighbour when Booth moved to Bridge Street, said, “You couldn’t really hold him. I used to tell him he would kill himself.” To no avail.
As a Spalding chapel member recalled years later: “When he called at [our]house after his meetings, it was easy to tell by his manner whether those meetings had been successful or not. If they had, he would leap up the steps like a school-boy, humming snatches of some favourite hymn tune.” A successful meeting meant con- versions: 4 after one service in Holbeach, 14 at Donnington, 6 at Swineshead Bridge, 36 at Caistor. “People wept,” he wrote. “Strong men were com- pletely melted down.” Clearly he was a very charis- matic young man indeed. During a ‘tea meeting’ in Spalding, he found himself “almost crushed by the mêlée of young people trying to get close” to him.
When Booth moved back to London in 1854, he left behind him a much strengthened Free Methodist movement in Spalding with the determination to build their own chapel. (Its eventual site was in the Crescent, where the abandoned Royal Mail Sorting Office now stands. This original chapel was replaced in 1879 by the enormous be-pillared United Methodist Free Church with seating for 1100. But with a congregation reduced eventually to 88 members, it was demolished in the 1950s.)
Looking back in old age on his time in Spalding, Booth said: “I was a weak and puny fellow when I went to the Fens …… [but] those long journeys on foot and the splendid hospitality of the Lincolnshire people simply made me.”
It was in 1865 that William Booth created the Salvation Army, and by a happy coincidence the unveiling of our blue plaque by his Great Grandson Colonel; Bramwell Booth on 17 October 2015 also marked the 150th Anniversary of that event.
[Sources: Lincolnshire Free Press, Norman Leveritt and Michael Elsden: Aspects of Spalding and David Bennett: William Booth in Lincolnshire 1852-4.]
The others were easy – Rousseau, Frank Pick, Peter Connolly, Jimi Hendrix – but finding out just where to fix the plaque marking William Booth’s time in Spalding was much harder. He spent two years here as Minister for the Free Methodist Church, 1852-4. From various letters we know he lodged in Red Lion Street – but which house? Houses in Spalding were not numbered until long after Booth’s time. The postmen must have memorised the name of each householder on their particular ‘walks’. Thus, in one letter Booth asks for some warmer clothing to be sent to him at “Mr.Green’s, Baker, Red Lion Street”. The 1851 Census certainly confirms the premises of one “Joshua Green” in the street, but because of the unsystematic order in which the enumerators recorded their findings it is impossible to identify the exact whereabouts of the premises.
Later Booth moved to Bridge Street. Here he lodged next door to Joseph Ashwell, printer, newsagent and stationer, and would pop into the shop every morning before breakfast to see what religious papers and magazines had come in. Older members will remember an Ashwell’s newsagent’s where the Bon Marché store now is. But Ashwell’s was not always there. A 1920s postcard shows it on the opposite side of the street (above), on the site now occupied by the single-storey part of Boot’s Optician’s. (The Ashwell’s shop on this site was
badly damaged by fire in the 1941 bombing raid on Spalding; hence the move across the street to undamaged premises, where the business remained.)
The question then is: on which side of the original Ashwell’s did Booth lodge? To the left was the National Provincial Bank (later Woolworth’s, also badly damaged in the 1941 raid); to the right Thomas Hardy, ironmonger. It seems unlikely that a bank would have taken in lodgers, but probability is not proof.
In moving to Bridge Street, Booth would unquestionably have chosen to lodge with a Methodist family. Therefore, if one could show that the bank manager, Thomas Beetham Scarborough, was an Anglican, the bank could be eliminated as Booth’s lodgings. To cut a long and often frustrating search short – there were two Thomas Scarboroughs in Spalding at this time! – a paragraph in the Free Press for 12 May 1868 reports the funeral of Thomas Beetham Scarborough, Manager of the National Provincial Bank. The service was conducted by the Rev.E.Moore, who was the vicar of St.Mary and St.Nicolas Church, and the report adds that the bank manager had also been the church’s organist. So, Mr.Scarborough was indeed an Anglican, and William Booth’s landlord would therefore have been Thomas Hardy, ironmonger, to the right of Ashwell’s – in the building that is now the three- storey part of Boot’s Optician’s. Remarkably, this building was spared both the German incendiaries and demolition when Westgate House (now Beale’s) was extended in the 1990s – surviving to host a plaque that will commemorate William Booth’s time in Spalding before he went on to found The Salvation Army with its world-wide membership.
Detective work: thanks to Michael Elsden’s Aspects of Spalding books, Judy Chapman, Marion Brassington and John Charlesworth.]