THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
"By two wings a man is raised above the earth, namely by Simplicity
and Purity."--THOMAS A KEMPIS.
There was still much within Bessie's power; and in tracing her work at
this period we find little diminution in her correspondence. She
received letters almost daily from Colonel Fyers on the business of the
Institution. Levy wrote frequently and fully to her. She had given him
great assistance in writing a book on _Blindness and the Blind_, and her
own notes were made over to him.
A letter which she received in March 1872 is interesting as a
description of preparations made by a blind man, Levy, carried out by a
blind carpenter, Farrow, and related to the blind lady, Miss Gilbert.
The occasion was the Thanksgiving for the Restoration of the Prince of
Wales in February 1872, when the streets were gay with decorations and
every window full of spectators. No house showed more bravely than the
Institution for Promoting the Welfare of the Blind in Oxford Street;
subscribers and their friends, the Committee and their friends, filled
every window, and the blind were keenly alive to all that was going on
around them, and to the distinction of the Prince's plume and gas jets
and the letters V.R., "each about four feet long in gold paper."
"The decorations," writes Levy, "consisted of a Union Jack flag at
the top of the house, and about half way up a crown and Prince's
plume, made of gold paper, projecting from the wall, and the
letters V.R., each about four feet long and two feet broad, made in
thick rossets in silver paper on crimson ground, also projecting
some distance from the wall, a wreath of flowers extended from the
house to the post at the curb of the pavement, the lamp of which
contained a transparency.
"At night the illumination consisted of a Prince's plume in gas
jets, which we bought for three pounds ten instead of hiring a
similar one for ten pounds; the wood used for seats will be made
into housemaids' boxes, etc. and the American cloth with which they
were covered made available for dress baskets.
"I think if you give five pounds it will be enough, as ten pounds
will cover the whole expense. The goods and glass cases were taken
out of the shop windows and three rows of seats, which gradually
receded and increased in height, were formed. The same kind of
seats were in the Committee room and the apartments above, out of
which the windows were taken. A rail was put to keep people from
going on to the balcony, as it was not safe; tables with wine and
biscuits were placed, and Mr. Osmond had something more substantial
in his rooms, with which Mr. Reid and others were well pleased."
On the 1st April 1872 the Rev. Frederick Denison Maurice died. Bessie
had been but slightly acquainted with him, but he was the brother of
her old and dear friends, Mrs. Powell and Mrs. Julius Hare. She had been
less startled by his written and spoken words than many of those in her
own circle, and on his death she recognised that a great power had gone
from amongst us, and sincerely mourned his loss.
She worked as usual at the arrangements for the annual meeting in 1872,
and on the 22d June the Archbishop of York, who presided, wrote to tell
her of its success.
_22d June 1872._
MY DEAR MISS GILBERT--I attended the meeting and made my short
speech. There never was a nicer meeting, the speakers were full of
gratitude to you for all you had done. We could have had twice the
number of speakers if we had wanted them.
I hope, my dear Miss Gilbert, that God will strengthen you and
enable you to carry on for many years your excellent
Association.--Ever with much regard, yours truly, W. EBOR.
The Princess Edward of Saxe-Weimar, sister of the Duke of Richmond,
conveyed a request from Bessie to the Duke and Duchess of Teck, whose
interest she hoped to enlist for the annual meeting of 1872. They were
abroad in the spring, but the Duke returned in time to preside at the
June meeting. Bessie never dropped any of the links in her chain, and
her early life at Chichester had given her many valuable allies.
In her long days of enforced inactivity she would recall to mind visits
to Goodwood, to Arundel, interest expressed and shown in the objects
she had at heart, and would redouble her efforts to raise up friends for
the blind.
Meantime there was a steady deterioration in her own physical condition.
The malady which had been making insidious progress for so long was
degeneration of the spinal cord. The disease is one that generally owes
its origin to accident or injury, but so far as could be ascertained
Bessie had never met with either.
The physicians who attended her throughout the last years of her life
inclined to the view that the poison in the blood left by scarlet fever
was the cause not only of the condition of the throat, from which she
suffered throughout her whole life (it will be remembered that she could
only drink in sips), but also of this degeneration of the spinal cord.
Looking back, the members of her family recalled to mind that her powers
of motion had not for many years been free and unimpeded. The
significant entries in diary and letters, as to her moving and walking
better, will not be forgotten. But the true cause of this had not been
suspected, except by Dr. Little; for mischief to the spinal cord may be
carried very far before there is any outward sign to manifest it. The
power of motion and merely animal functions are affected by it; but
intelligence remains alert and the brain power unaffected. The symptoms
which accompany it are at first attributed to weakness, overwork,
physical fatigue, any of which would be sufficient to account for them
before the disease has reached the stage in which its true nature is
unmistakably revealed. Mental trouble will often accelerate the progress
of this malady, and occasion its more rapid development. This cause had
also been at work.
The death of her father in 1870 was sudden and most unexpected to
Bessie. The subsequent giving up of the two homes, at Chichester and in
London, which long years had endeared to her; the necessity of planting
herself in and learning to accommodate herself to a new house, with all
the old familiar landmarks swept away--all these things were sources of
suffering to one of her delicate nervous organisation; and doubtless
they gave an added impetus to the progress of disease.
She met her troubles with great courage; she bore them with unmurmuring
patience; but they produced their inevitable result, and flung her aside
when the storm was over as a weed is cast up by an angry sea.
There were a few months during which various remedies were suggested and
tried, but all unsuccessfully. The two sisters, who henceforward devoted
their whole life to her, now took it in turns to sleep on a sofa in her
room, so as to help her to move and turn in bed during the night. But
when she realised that loss of power was not a phase but one of the
conditions of her illness, she would not allow them to do this, saying
she must have them "fresh for the daytime." A sick nurse was engaged,
and, with Charlotte Gadney, ministered to her.
For a little time she was able occasionally to be taken into Hyde Park
in an easy bath chair and always recumbent, but she could only bear the
vibration of the movement for a very short distance. When she reached
the park she would remain for some hours enjoying the air.
Quiet and fresh air (two things that London cannot give) seemed more and
more essential; and in August 1872 her sister Mary (Mrs. Bowles) wrote
to propose that she should pay a long visit to Milton Hill, in
Berkshire. Her doctors warmly approved of the proposal, if only she
could bear the journey; and Mr. Bowles, to whom she was warmly attached,
busied himself with preparations for her comfort.
After many anxious inquiries and careful arrangements, it was settled
that, accompanied by her sister Sarah, she should undertake the journey
in an invalid carriage, "by road and rail," being lifted in at her own
door and lifted out at Milton Hill.
This was done; but the railway officials attached the carriage to the
end of an express train; the oscillation and vibration were
insupportable, and she reached Milton Hill almost unconscious from pain
and fatigue. In the hope of lessening her suffering she had been held in
the nurse's arms all the latter part of the railway journey; but even
this could do little to diminish the agony she endured. She was carried
to bed as soon as she reached Milton Hill, and after some days of
complete rest she began to rally. It was then a great pleasure to her to
note all that had been done by the "best and kindest brother-in-law
that any one ever had."
"Did you ever know such a brother-in-law!" she used to say.
Rooms for her and her servants had been arranged on the ground floor,
with easy access to the beautiful garden and grounds. She arrived in
August, and as soon as she had somewhat recovered, she was carried every
day that the weather allowed, to a tent that had been put up in a
pleasant part of the garden. She enjoyed being read aloud to; she had
great delight in her nephews and nieces; but most of all she appreciated
the opportunity of uninterrupted intercourse with her sister. They were
again the "Mary and Bessie" of youthful days; not friends learning to
know and love each other, but sisters with a wealth of buried
recollections to be brought out to the light of day; interests, tastes,
and affections in common; only a spark, an electric flash of memory,
needed to illuminate the whole. No wonder that the time passed happily,
and "life between four walls" dawned upon the sufferer, not without
promise of alleviation.
For, in spite of the hours spent in the tent, it was practically already
life within four walls. All thought of work or occupation outside her
own home had to be abandoned; she must keep only that which she could
guide and control from the sick-room. "I feel like a train which has
been left upon a siding," she used to say.
Throughout the winter of 1872-73 she gave all the strength and time at
her disposal to the interests and occupations of the blind. A fresh
anxiety troubled her. Levy's health was failing seriously, and several
members of the Committee wished him to take a long leave of absence. The
work connected with his book, added to his ordinary duties as manager of
the Association, had exhausted his strength. Bessie received letters
from friends on the Committee telling her that Levy must have rest, and
from Levy saying it was impossible for him to take it during her
absence. The year 1873 was passing on with this, which seemed a heavy
cloud, hanging over her, when suddenly a storm burst, which swept away
all other anxiety in the one engrossing sorrow which it brought.
After less than a week's illness her beloved sister Mary, Mrs. Bowles,
died on 20th October at Milton Hill. Bessie was in the same house, but
was too ill to be taken to her sister's room; and they never met after
the day on which Mrs. Bowles was attacked by a fatal malady. Bessie's
sick-nurse, and an old and faithful servant of the Gilbert family, who
happened to be staying at Milton Hill, were unremitting in their
attention to Mrs. Bowles; and from them Bessie heard of the variations
in her condition almost from hour to hour. When all was over Bessie, in
her weak condition, was crushed and exhausted. She seemed unable to
endure the shock of this sudden blow, and at first could only lie and
moan, "Oh, why was she taken and I left?"
Archdeacon Atkinson, a near neighbour and old friend of her sister's,
did his best to soothe and comfort her. The grief of Mr. Bowles and the
children roused her. She saw how much they needed help, and before long
she was the old brave Bessie, full of thought for the sorrow of others,
and engrossed by her endeavours to console and comfort them.
Before the death of Mrs. Bowles it had been arranged that Bessie should
spend the winter at Torquay. This plan was adhered to; and in November
1873, travelling in one of the railway companies invalid carriages, she
bore the journey fairly well, and reached Torquay without the terrible
suffering caused by her previous journey.
She had bright and sunny rooms in Sulyarde Terrace, and on fine days she
was still able to spend a few hours out of doors, reclining in an
invalid chair; sometimes also she could sit up in her chair for an hour
or two, and at this time, when her food was duly prepared, she was still
able to feed herself. Her sister Lucy, Mrs. Casson, with husband and
many children, resided at Torquay; and she found here, also, a kind
brother-in-law, unremitting in his attentions, and numerous young
nephews and nieces, whom she knew and loved. In January 1874 Levy died.
Father, mother, and sister; house and home and health had been taken
from Bessie; and now the faithful servant and friend of her whole life
followed. She had put great constraint upon herself at the time of her
sister's illness and death, but she was powerless against this blow.
Deep depression settled down upon her, which took the form of constant
self-reproach. She, the most unselfish and considerate of women, was
given over, as it were, to an avenging spirit, which upbraided her with
faults never committed, and exacted expiation for imaginary crimes of
selfishness and self-seeking. Such dark passages may be borne in mind by
other sufferers, tortured with self-questionings and doubt.
The first thing to rouse her was the desire to say some words to the
blind men and women on whose behalf Mr. Levy had worked for so many
years. As soon as she had somewhat recovered, she wrote perhaps the most
touching record we have of her work, her hope, her sorrow, and her
submission.
2 SULYARDE TERRACE, TORQUAY, _10th February 1874_.
MY DEAR FRIENDS--I feel that both you and I have had a very great
loss indeed, and my heart yearns to say to you that you do not know
how grieved I am for you; you know full well what the loss is to
yourselves, but you can hardly tell what it is to me; you cannot
know how he who is now taken and I have worked together with the
self-same end of helping you, and now I am left, deprived of all
the help that your dear and true friend gave me, and it is
impossible for me to tell you how deeply I feel the loss.
Mr. Levy never spared himself when your interest was at stake, and
now that he is taken from us, and I am left alone, I feel that I
must ask you all to give me all the help in your power, and you can
help me by giving me your confidence, by showing me that you feel I
will do the best I can for you, and, above all, by trying, with
God's help, to become the men and women He would have you to be.
Nothing gives me greater joy than for the Association to be the
means of helping you, by God's blessing, to lead really Christian
lives. This means that you should have in your hearts the love of
God and the love of your neighbour, which love will prevent you
hurting anybody by word or deed, make you true and just in all your
dealings, and temperate and sober in your living. My earnest desire
is that the Association should help you to learn and labour truly
to get your own living; but you know that this must be a work of
time. If I could prevent it there should not be one blind person
begging, but all should have the blessing of earning their living;
but, as I say, it will take a long time to bring this to pass. Had
I been asked I should have said, "You would do better without me
than without him who is taken from us; but God does not ask us, and
does what He sees and knows to be best, and He has taken Mr. Levy
to his rest and reward, and has left me."
If it is His will that I should have strength, I will, with His
help and with the aid of the friends engaged in the work, do the
best I can. Many of you I have never seen; I wish this were not so,
but I cannot help it; but to you all I earnestly say: please think
of me as of one who has your truest interest at heart, who is, like
yourselves, without sight, and who tries, to the best of her power,
to understand what it is to be poor as well as blind, and who longs
for your help and co-operation in the work of endeavouring to help
you to help yourselves. You will help me, will you not?--Believe
me, my dear friends, to be most sincerely yours,
ELIZABETH GILBERT.
_P.S._--I have signed my name with the pen which Mr. Levy invented
for us. You and I must pray that God will help me to do what will
be best for you. I know God will not leave us, for He loveth the
blind, as He doth all human beings, more than we can possibly
understand or know, so that we must try and trust in Him fully in
all our trials. May God bless you all!
With advancing spring the cloud of depression was dispelled. She became
more cheerful, began to talk of a return to London, and to look forward
to her life there. The return journey was undertaken in the second week
in June. It was safely accomplished, though at the cost of very great
weariness and exhaustion. When she reached Stanhope Place and had been
carried to her room, she said, "No more journeys for me." This was
indeed her last journey, for though in 1877 she had such a longing for
fresh country air that there was a consultation, and her physicians
sanctioned removal, yet when the time came her heart failed, and she
remained at home.
On her return from Torquay she went into Hyde Park about half a dozen
times in an invalid chair, but after October 1874 she left the house no
more. She was, however, still able for a time to be dressed, to sit up
for an hour or two, and to be carried up and down stairs. As the winter
advanced a sitting-room was arranged on the same floor as her bedroom,
and then she came downstairs daily no more. In spite of all precautions
against cold she had a severe attack of bronchitis in 1875, and was
attended by Dr. Hawkesley, whom she knew and liked as a fellow-worker on
the Council of the Normal College for the Blind. He was struck by the
manner in which she threw off the attack. "She is doing so gallantly,"
he said. But she did not regain the strength lost during this illness,
and resumed life after every access of sorrow and suffering on a lower
level, as it were, and with diminished vital powers. After the spring of
1875 she was not dressed again, and never sat up. Recumbent on one of
Alderman's couches, in a pretty dressing-gown, with soft warm shawls,
and lace, and bright colour, such as she loved, about her, she spent her
good days. On the bad ones she was not lifted from her bed.
She had indeed become like a train that is left upon a siding, and all
her busy life was hushed and silent.
When the summer came, and her rooms were to be repapered and painted,
she was carried downstairs. The drawing-rooms were specially prepared as
her bed and sitting-rooms, and she would stay in these her "country
quarters" for six weeks or two months. After that she was taken upstairs
in the same way for the autumn, winter, and spring. This removal
required great care and very skilful management, as the couch on which
she reclined had to be lifted over the bannisters, and any jerk or
unexpected movement caused both pain and apprehension.
A fresh sorrow awaited her. In 1876 Charlotte Gadney, her faithful and
affectionate attendant, had a paralytic seizure, and it was necessary
for the sake both of mistress and maid that they should part. Bessie
could not at first acquiesce in separation; she reproached herself as
the cause of Charlotte's illness, and could not rest until she was
informed of all the minutest details connected with her.
But when the parting was over Bessie's anxiety gradually diminished, and
Charlotte's recovery was more rapid than had been expected. She was
never well enough to resume attendance upon her beloved mistress, but
from time to time she came on a short visit, much to her own and
Bessie's delight.
Meanwhile the Association struggled on under the care of successive
managers. Levy's illness and frequent absence had caused confusion,
irregularity, and loss, which his successors were not slow to take
advantage of. They found it easy to persevere in defects occasioned by
his failing health and want of sight; but the untiring devotion to the
cause of the blind, and unwearied efforts on their behalf, which had
made these defects of comparatively small importance, were lost to the
Association for ever.
Bessie knew and lamented the shortcomings, but she could no longer
supplement them. Successive years diminished her powers of work.
Sleeplessness, pain, exhaustion, wore her out; and sometimes for days
together she could not bear even an allusion to the Association and its
work. Occasional fits of deafness, to which she had always been liable,
depressed her more than they had ever previously done. These attacks
recurred several times, and lasted for many weeks at a time. It was
difficult for her to shake off the gloom that accompanied them, and the
sense of isolation and solitude. Her hands and arms were too feeble to
allow her to read or work for more than a few moments, so that she was
not only cut off from the society of those she loved, but unable to
occupy herself in any way.
From time to time she regained a little strength, and then it was
touching to see how she at once resumed her labours. At the beginning of
her illness she took great interest in the inauguration of the Normal
College for the Blind. Dr. Campbell had several long conversations with
her in 1871, before she left Queen Anne Street, and at his request she
had joined the Committee of the College and even attended some of its
meetings. She rejoiced in the success that now attended Dr. Campbell's
efforts; but she was convinced that a musical career was, in most cases,
impossible for the blind. "Many adult persons lose their sight, but the
loss does not entail a love of music," she would say. She saw, and had
always seen, that handicrafts were the only possible occupation for the
majority, especially amongst the poor and uneducated; and one of her
chief objects was to increase the number of trades which the blind could
follow. She used to say that, with a little ingenuity and contrivance,
many additional trades might be thrown open to them. With this end in
view she continued to make herself acquainted with the details of
different occupations, and wished that experiments "on a very small
scale" should be carried out. But there were too many difficulties in
the way. Want of health, want of money, want of space for workrooms, met
her at every turn. Still, whenever there was a bit of work that she
could do, she did it. In November 1874 a special Committee had been
appointed by the Charity Organisation Society to consider "what more can
be done to promote the welfare of the blind, especially in relation to
their industrial training." The Earl of Lichfield presided, and the
subjects to be considered were as follows:
1. What is being done industrially for the blind, and in what ways?
(_a_) For learners.
(_b_) For journeymen.
2. What more can be done through existing agencies?
(_a_) By improvements in system of working.
(_b_) By co-operation between the agencies.
(_c_) By fresh retail shops.
3. May not a large proportion of the able-bodied blind be rendered
thoroughly self-supporting?
4. Should the education and training of the blind be to any extent
provided for from the rates or other State sources, and, if so, to
what extent?
The first paper read on the welfare of the blind had been forwarded by
Bessie, with an expression of deep regret "That the state of her health
prevented her from attending the meeting." She wrote as follows:
In endeavours to promote the welfare of the blind, it is essential
that some important facts should be borne in mind, viz.--
_1st._ That many blind persons, although instructed in some trade,
are either reduced to begging or are driven to the workhouse, not
through their own fault, but simply for the want of any regular
employment in their trade.
_2d._ That children constitute but a small proportion of the blind,
as about nine-tenths of the thirty thousand blind in the United
Kingdom become so above the age of twenty-one.
_3d._ That about half the sightless population live in rural
districts.
_4th._ That the health of persons without sight is, as a general
rule, below that of others.
_5th._ That this cause operates, in addition to loss of sight, to
bring about the slow rate at which the blind work as compared with
the sighted.
_6th._ That social ties are even more essential to the blind than
to others.
OBJECTS TO BE AIMED AT.
_1st._ To foster self-reliance, and to enable the blind to help
themselves.
_2d._ To eradicate the habit of suspicion by promoting friendly
intercourse between the blind and the sighted.
_3d._ To develop the faculties of the blind in every direction.
_4th._ To improve their physical condition.
_5th._ In industrial training to endeavour to lessen, as far as
possible, the difference in speed in the work between the work of
the blind and that of the sighted, while making it the first object
to secure good and efficient work.
_6th._ To do everything to reduce the dependence of the blind as
far as possible, while endeavouring, by Christian instruction, to
enable them to accept the unavoidable dependence of their condition
in a spirit of humility and thankfulness which will soften and
sweeten it to them, and will turn this dependence into one of their
greatest blessings, as it will be the means of uniting them more
closely to their fellow-creatures.
MEANS TOWARDS THESE ENDS.
_1st._ Endeavour to enable the blind to earn their own living, and
with this view seek out and send children to existing blind
schools.
_2d._ Promote the establishment of institutions for providing the
blind on leaving the schools with regular employment, and for
teaching trades to persons ineligible for admission to the schools,
which is the case, as a rule, with those above twenty-one years of
age.
_3d._ When practicable, supply blind persons with regular
employment at their own homes, and encourage them to do anything
they can on their own account independently of any institution.
_4th._ Try to introduce trades hitherto not carried on by the
blind, giving the precedence to such as can be practised without
sighted aid.
_5th._ Cultivate habits of method and precision in the blind, which
will all tend to improve the rate at which they work.
_6th._ Make the training of efficient blind teachers a special
object.
_7th._ Encourage residence in the country rather than in towns by
giving employment at home, thus cementing family ties and promoting
health.
_8th._ Form lending libraries of embossed books in all the various
systems in use, and establish classes for religious and other
instruction.
OBSERVATIONS.
Many other means besides those here mentioned might be suggested,
but the aim of this paper has been to state some of the chief facts
bearing on the subject, and to mention some of the most obvious
means for improving the condition of the blind.
Regular employment at their own homes, when practicable, is of
great service to the blind, and especially as by this means
numbers in the country can be reached. It might also be possible to
some extent to carry out what might be called Rural Home Industrial
Teaching, of course regulating the trades taught according to local
circumstances.
The importance of opening new trades to the blind can hardly be
exaggerated, and friends of the blind must welcome every successful
effort in this direction. Next to the benefit of real Christian
principles must be placed that of enabling the sightless to earn
their own living; but where this is impossible pensions should be
given.
_Lastly._ Let the blind themselves be consulted, and have as much
voice as possible in the measures adopted for their welfare; and
this is said not only with a view to the educated, but especially
to the more intelligent blind in humbler positions, since, as is
well known, the mass of those without sight will be found among the
poorer classes. The more this is done the more will the blind feel
that the sighted desire to carry out such measures as shall act
like so many levers with which to raise them from their present
depressed condition, and will then heartily second the efforts
made, and thankfully grasp the friendly hands held out to them; but
which they will only accept reluctantly and coldly, not having
their own heart in the work, unless convinced that the main object
in view is to enable them, by their own efforts, to stand as far as
possible on an equality with their fellow-creatures.
The suggestions made in this little paper had all been thought out upon
a bed of pain, and with sorrows of her own that might well have
engrossed her attention. But Bessie never, to the end of her life, lost
an opportunity of working and speaking on behalf of those to whom that
life had been devoted.
Two events in the history of the Association which deeply interested
her were the removal from Oxford Street to more commodious premises in
Berners Street, and the Special Bequest of L10,000 by Mr. Gardner. She
was gratified to learn that the Special Bequest was no bar to the
participation of the Association in the general advantages provided by
Mr. Gardner for the blind.