Newell, Levi (1843-1921) of New Southgate

Transcription of article in the series “Some of our Stalwarts” by An Old “Caledonian”

EIGHT shillings a week to keep a family of ten!

I sat up and looked with amazement at the prosperous figure before me. Levi Newell is justly proud of the business which by his labour, business capacity and uprightness has been built up. His name may be seen upon many a railway truck on the North London lines. His countenance glows as he speaks of the number of his vans, of his small army of drivers and loaders, of his staff of clerks, and then he comes back to “Eight shillings a week to keep a family of ten!” and asserts that “the agricultural labourer of to-day is a gentleman” as compared with his condition in these days, well-nigh seventy years ago, when our friend, a wee toddler in a Huntingdonshire village, shared with his numerous brothers and sisters the meagre fare of a humble home. That the drift to the city is no new thing, the fact that of six sons born to that household five found their way to London, goes to show.

The little village of Broughton housed our stalwart for the first few months of his life, and then the family removed to Little Raveley. Here it was that at the age of eight years the successful coal merchant of to-day began a life of work in the keeping of sheep. Along the Huntingdonshire roads and lanes he wandered with his charges, at a pace regulated by their appetite and the plenty or sparseness of the crop that rewarded the search of their eager noses. For fifty-two weeks of every year, seven long days were given to this occupation in return for the princely wage of one shilling and dinner on Sundays. With a characteristic chuckle that seems to shake the whole man from head to foot, Mr. Newell asserts that the second item of his payment meant just as much to his master’s pocket as did the first. Farm service followed and affluence to the vast proportions of four pounds per annum in addition to the luxury of “living in.”

On the third day of March of the year 1863, having attained the mature age of twenty and an income of ten shillings a week, our adventurer entered into the bonds of holy matrimony, taking unto him the wife who, after more than fifty years, is still his companion at hearth and altar. A helpmeet indeed she proved to be, the very messenger of the Most High. Through her influence he was led to the little sanctuary where, one lovely June night, he met with God. He was the first member of his family to become a Christian, and no one who knows the man will be astonished to learn that he at once began missionary operations, and very soon his father and mother were sharing his new-found joy.

Three months later he and his wife turned their backs upon the country, and, with little but faith and courage and a mind to work and pull together, fared forth to seek fortune in London Town. Twelve years of hard work left the husband the possessor of a few pounds, hardly won and by self-denial saved, and then, with a sublime faith in his God and in himself, he laid the foundations of the prosperous business of which he is to-day the head. With delightful simplicity he tells of those early struggles, of the thrift, the hard work, the long hours; of the times of anxiety and crisis; of times when it seemed as if he could hold on no longer and the end must come. “But always,” he says happily, “the Lord helped me,” and at last his bark found its way into quieter waters and soon rode safe and steady upon a full tide of prosperity.

Through all the years of strain and toil the most vital reality in the life of Levi Newell has been his religion. The prosperity of the Lord’s house has been as dear to him as the welfare of his own. It is almost startling, in these matter-of-fact days, to hear a clear-headed, successful business man refer to the Almighty in ordinary conversation as naturally as he would speak of any other person.

“When I went into business for myself,” he says, “I told the Lord that although I wanted to work hard and get on, I wasn’t going to take of His time for it, and indeed,” he adds, laughing happily, “I think I gave Him more. I put in a good deal of overtime in the Lord’s work, and He always pays me for it, bless His name!” That this is nothing more than true let the years testify.

Looking back to the early days in London, Levi Newell tells how three of his brothers were converted at our Camden Town church, where our friend had made his spiritual home. He tells of the great times experienced under a certain railway arch in Kentish Town, the fame of which continues even to this day. It was there that James, his well-known brother, and his sister found the Lord. When Dartmouth Park and Woodberry Down were missioned this stalwart was found in the front ranks of the heroic band of pioneers. Then came great days at Caledonian Road, where Levi Newell entered into his kingdom. No less than thirty years of the good man’s life were given to this famous church. It is no exaggeration to say that his whole heart was bound up in its welfare; his a spirits rose and fell with its fortunes. Great names look down from those well-known marble tablets on each side of the organ, a roll of honour of which any Church might well be proud; names which tell of long years of devoted self-sacrifice and consecrated toil. Not one of them stands for a nobler record than the name of Levi Newell. It is something to have stood side by side with such men as Joseph Toulson, Thomas Guttery, R.R. Connell, John Plummer, James Jackson. Every one of them was a giant, and with them our brother bore a noble part, toiling through the burden and neat of the day that the work of the Lord might prosper at Old Caledonian.

It was Joseph Toulson, “a grand man,” declares Mr. Newell, who introduced our friend to one of his enthusiasms. The newly-arrived countryman had gone out with the Mission Band to hold a service among the coalmen of Cumberland Market. Towards the end of the meeting a kindly hand fell upon his shoulder and a compelling voice requested the assembled coalies to listen to a few words from one of themselves. Whereupon the young man from the fields got upon his legs. How he feared and trembled! It was surely the Spirit of the Lord upon him that caused him to speak with such effect as to impel his leader to declare with emotion, “My boy, the Lord has a great work for you to do.” Thus began an open-air ministry which has made the name of Levi Newell a household word in all the streets and alleys of that North London district. Many a tale twice worthy of preservation in the annals of our Church can this veteran tell. He can point to many a trophy won from the ranks of evil and now adorning the house of the Lord. With fatherly pride he speaks of his “children in the Lord”—those whom he has known to be as slaves to all kinds of wickedness, who have been freed by the power of the Gospel through his instrumentality, and who now are “the slaves of the Lord Jesus Christ,” holding prominent positions in Zion and showing forth daily the glory of God.

Levi Newell believes that every pot in Jerusalem can be as holy as the vessels before the altar, and he has never scrupled to use the most unconventional means of compassing a holy end. Not to everyone would it occur that a coal van might be used as a war chariot in the army of the Lord of Hosts, but this man drove forth in such an one, and by the power of God it became a mighty force in the battle against the powers of darkness.

A mission was being held at “the chapel.” Some time before each service a gallant band would set forth with their leader, and drive around to all the the public houses and other crowded spots of the neighbourhood. A harmonium led the singing from the van, and many a poor sinner was led to salvation by this means. On one occasion a woman, who was seen to be in deep distress, was taken up into the van, “and,” says the happy captain of the expedition, rubbing his hands in delightful reminiscence and fairly beaming with joy, “before we got to the pel she was converted! Hallelujah!” Can’t you see the picture?

Not always has our friend been allowed to do this work of his heart without interference. One night his service was interrupted by a policeman who, laying his hand upon the speaker’s collar, commanded him at once to desist and to accompany him to the nearest police station on a charge of causing a disturbance. Mr. Newell was surprised of course, but it was the man in buttons who had most reason to be astonished at the conclusion of that business, for the roughs of the neighbourhood—frequenters of pot-houses and loungers at street corners—arose by common impulse in defence of this good man. What though he denounced their ways of life? What though he was not of their world, but constantly strove to lead them to a higher? They knew his daily life and record. They recognised his simple goodness and rushed to a rescue which was gloriously effective.

Evangelistic work of all kinds is the joy of Mr. Newell’s life. For years his Sunday afternoon service was one of the best services of the Church week. His class meeting was a tower of strength, and this brings us to the second great passion of his religious life. When the young man threw in his lot at Old Caledonian there were two society classes needing leaders. Both posts were offered to him. The one class was large and prosperous. Its leadership was a post that might well have tempted the ambition of any man. The other class was one which had gradually declined and almost ceased to exist; “a broken down class,” so Mr. Newell relates, whose quarterly contribution was almost nil and whose class-book was a heartbreak. The young man chose the “broken-down class,” thereby evincing his possession of those sterling qualities which have ripened in the grand old man of to-day. Difficulties have ever stimulated him. Defeat has never dismayed him. He has always

“ . .. marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break;
Never held, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph;
Held we fall to rise, are worsted to fight better.”

Before two years had passed the roll-book of the “broken-down class” contained the names of fifty or sixty live members, who, for close on twenty-five years, sent the sum of five pounds sterling to every quarterly meeting. Verily, there were giants in those days!

To Mr. Newell the class meeting is the backbone of Methodism, and he regards its decline in modern days with feelings of sorrow. For this decline he sees but one cure. Primitive Methodism is getting too cold and formal, he says. Let us get back the old fire and fervour and all will be well. He has no use for the new theology. Nothing but the old Gospel can satisfy this stalwart Methodist Christian. By its saving power he has seen those whom nothing else could have touched brought to the Saviour and going forth in newness of life. He knows of no other way to change an evil life and bring men from the power of Satan unto God.

Over the modern Sunday our good old friend shakes his head. In his opinion no good can ever come from that rushing after pleasure on the Lord’s Day, of which, from the windows of his pleasant home in the outer circle of suburban London, he sees only too much. The Lord’s house on the Lord’s Day is his own choice, and attendance at the early school, at the morning service in the sanctuary, at afternoon school, and at evening service, to be followed by a good rousing prayer meeting to round off a perfect day, constitutes the ideal Sabbath of this stalwart saint of over three-score years, and ten. Though eight o’clock of every week-day finds him at his office, almost within a stone’s throw, of “Old Caledonian,” he still has vigour to spend Sunday as he has done for the last fifty years and more.

Caledonian Road Church now knows him only as a fairly frequent and ever-welcome visitor. His removal to New Southgate some years ago gave to our Church there a much-needed and invaluable helper. The first night of his association saw him appointed circuit steward. He found a weak society in a mission hall, hampered on all sides by heavy debt. Bending all his energies to the work, all old debts were soon wiped off, and in less than five years the society found itself in possession of a beautiful church, the cost of which is gradually being defrayed.

The pride and joy of the old man in this latest child of his spiritual love is delightful to see. Its prosperity is the delight of his life.

The beautiful building contains a beautiful organ whereby hangs a tale with which our story may well be brought to a close.

One Sunday night, some five years ago, on reaching his home after preaching, the hand of God was laid upon Levi Newell in a paralytic stroke. It attacked the whole right side of his body, and he lay helpless as a child, unable to move hand or foot. By medical wisdom he was assured that a long and weary time lay before him, and that he must be prepared for months of weakness and inactivity before his faculties could possibly recover their wonted strength.

On the Monday morning his old friends at “Caledonian” heard of the calamity, and on Monday evening a special prayer meeting was called to intercede with God on behalf of His servant.

On Tuesday morning the old man, to his astonishment, was able to lift a spoon to his mouth. On Thursday morning, when the doctor came to see the invalid, he found him up and dressed, and from that time the patient never looked back. The medico was amazed, and could not understand the falsification of all his prophecies, but Levi Newell, with rapt face and eyes which seem to see the Invisible, ‘says reverently, “It was the Lord’s doing.” In some way the emotion of his grateful heart must find expression. The organ was that expression.

Mr. Newell having done so much for Primitive Methodism, what has Primitive Methodism done for him? He declares that it has helped him to all the good things he has known in life. Many a time has his circuit sent him to represent it in District Meeting over which he has on several occasions exercised the vice-presidential functions. On numerous occasions his district has sent him to Conference, and it is only his own modesty that has prevented his nomination to the vice-presidency of that assembly. But not in these things does his heart find its highest joy. That is in service at home.

And so, in the calm and pleasant evening of life, we leave him. As he looks back “thro’ memory’s sunset air,’’ upon the toils of his well-spent day, we doubt not that scenes of the past will often pass before his mental vision. Those pictures may well bring joy to his heart. May he be long spared to see the prosperity of Zion.

Family

Levi was born in the spring of 1843 at Broughton, Huntingdonshire, to parents William Newell, a farm bailiff (1861), and Mary Knighton.

Census returns identify the following occupations for Levi.

1861 carter
1871 coal porter
1881 coal merchant
1891 coal merchant
1901 coal merchant

He married Jane Baxter (1846-1916) in early 1863 in the Huntingdon Registration District, Huntingdonshire. Census returns identify three children.

Drusilla Mary (1865-1919) – married John Berry, a coal merchant (1891), in 1884
Florence Jane (1879-1946) – married Frank William Haynes, a leather warehouseman (1911), in 1902
William Harry (1885-1960) – a coal merchant’s son assisting in business (1911)

Levi died on 2 February 1921 at New Southgate, Middlesex.

References

Primitive Methodist Magazine 1914/367

Census Returns and Births, Marriages & Deaths Registers