Holy Women.
_SECTION I.—SELINA, COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON._
“She stands, indeed, so connected with almost all which was good in the
last century, that the character of the age, so far as religion is
concerned, was in some measure her own. It is not insinuated that she
alone impressed that character on the Church, but that she entirely
sympathised with it, and was not a whit behind the foremost in
affection for souls and zeal for God, in spirituality of mind and
fervour of devotion, in contrivance and energy for the extension of the
gospel, in a large and disinterested soul.”
J. K. FOSTER.
_RELIGION NOT A THING OF SEX._
Christianity breathes a spirit of the most diffusive charity and
goodwill; and wherever its power is felt, it moulds the character into
the image of benevolence. The great principles of the religion of Jesus
secure to woman, as an unquestionable right, that elevation and high
position in society, which His conduct and that of His followers
conferred. Immorality trembles, domestic tyranny retires abashed,
before the majesty of religion, and peace pervades that dwelling where
power was law and woman a slave. The gospel belongs to neither sex, but
to both. It wears no party badge, but as by a zone of love, elastic
enough to be stretched round the globe, seeks to bind the whole race
together. The most effectual method of degrading woman is to barbarize
man, and the surest means of dignifying her is to Christianize him. A
council in the fifth century, we believe, discussed the question
whether woman was included in the redemption; but it is now only, we
think, among the Jews of Tunis that any such belief is maintained.
Happily, too, we are past the time when good old Coverdale, the
celebrated translator of the Bible, could write with some kind of real
or affected surprise, “He maketh even women to be declarers of His
resurrection!” It is now a matter of extreme surprise that the half of
the human race should at any time, in civilized lands, have had their
share in Christ’s atonement for the world disputed.
_BIOGRAPHY._
Lady Selina Shirley, the second daughter of Washington Shirley, was
born at Stanton Harold, long the seat of the Shirley family, on the
24th August, 1707. The mansion was situated in a fine park of one
hundred and fifty acres, well wooded, and diversified by hill and dale.
It stood near the ancient town of Ashby-de-la-Zouch. The grounds were
laid out with great taste, and a spacious lake of ornamental water
reflected a handsome stone bridge, which was thrown across it. She
inherited the talents and benevolent disposition of her father, and
from a very early age sought Divine direction in all that she did. When
only nine years old, she saw a corpse about her own age carried to its
last resting place. She followed it to the grave, and with many tears
cried earnestly to God on the spot, that whenever He should be pleased
to take her away, He would deliver her from all fears, and give her a
happy departure. She often afterwards visited the grave, and always
preserved a lively sense of the affecting scene.
She received an education which successfully drew out the talents of
her mind, the disposition of her heart, and the graceful deportment of
her manners. Her acquirements were much beyond the ordinary standard of
the age in which she lived. When she grew up, and was introduced into
the world, and made her appearance at court, she manifested no
inclination to follow the example of her companions in the gaieties of
fashionable life. The habitual realization of Divine things preserved
her amid scenes of great danger.
Lady Selina Shirley often prayed that she might marry into a serious
family, and on June 3rd, 1728, she was united in matrimony to
Theophilus, the ninth Earl of Huntingdon. None kept up more the ancient
dignity and heraldic glory than the house of Huntingdon; but the strict
decorum and outward propriety which she observed were far more grateful
to her than riches or renown. Mary Queen of Scots was for some time
confided to the keeping of the Earl of Huntingdon; and King James the
First and his consort were often visitors at the famous castle of
Ashby. Lady Huntingdon maintained, in this high estate, a peculiar
seriousness of conduct. Though sometimes at court, she took no pleasure
in the fashionable follies of the great. At Donnington Park she was
known as the _Lady Bountiful_ by her neighbours and dependants. Often
might she have been seen standing over the sick and dying,
administering to their temporal wants, and reading the Scriptures to
them.
Her heart was now truly engaged to God, so she laid her coronet at the
Redeemer’s feet, and resolved, according to her ability, to lay herself
out to do good. In 1738, when John and Charles Wesley preached in the
neighbourhood of Donnington Park, she sent a kind message to them,
acknowledging that she was one at heart with them, bidding them good
speed in the name of the Lord, and assuring them of her determination
to live for Him who had died for her. The oratory of the Methodists was
fervid and powerful; and the spiritual fire which glowed within,
animated their discourses, and attracted many to the standard of the
cross. The number of ordained ministers was insufficient to meet the
demands for their services. But a new agency was now springing up: holy
and gifted laymen began to preach, and their labours were crowned with
greater success than those of the most illustrious men sent from
colleges and universities. It should never be forgotten that we owe all
the blessings which the world has received from lay preachers chiefly
to the good sense and spiritual discernment of Lady Huntingdon.
In the summer of 1743, the Earl and Countess of Huntingdon, with the
Ladies Hastings, visited Yorkshire, where the work of the Lord was
making great progress. Soon after her return she was called upon to
endure severe domestic trials. Two of her beloved sons died within a
short period of each other, one aged thirteen, and the other aged ten
years. In April, 1746, Lady Huntingdon was attacked by a serious
illness; but by the skill of her medical attendants, and the blessing
of God, she was restored to health and strength. Scarcely had she
recovered from the loss of her children, and her own illness, before
she was bereaved of her husband, Lord Huntingdon, who died at his house
in Downing Street, Westminster, October 13th, 1746. But these and
subsequent personal and family afflictions only awakened her mind
toward religious concernments, and caused her to be more energetic in
the diffusion of Christian principles. Lord Huntingdon left his widow
in uncontrolled command of an income amply sufficient for maintaining
her position, with her surviving children, in the style which befitted
her rank; but confining her expenditure within narrow limits, she
regarded her fortune as a trust which it was her happiness to
administer in furtherance of the highest purposes.
Lady Huntingdon now became the open and avowed patroness of all the
zealous ministers of Christ, especially of those who were suffering for
the testimony of Jesus. In the spring of 1758 she threw open her house
in London for the preaching of the gospel. Many of the distinguished
nobility attended the services; among whom were the Duchess of Bedford,
Grafton, Hamilton, and Richmond; Lords Weymouth, Tavistock, Trafford,
Northampton, Lyttleton, Dacre, and Hertford; Ladies Dacre, Jane Scott,
Anne Cronnolly, Elizabeth Kepple, Coventry, Hertford, Northumberland,
etc., etc. She was far in advance of her times in catholicity of spirit
and liberality of sentiment, and frequently stimulated the great
leaders of Methodism to extend their operations, when they were
inclined to restrict them to certain modes of action. She loved all who
loved the Lord Jesus Christ, and formed an acquaintance with many pious
and distinguished Dissenters.
Hitherto, her Ladyship had confined her exertions to England, Ireland,
Scotland, and Wales; but in 1772, in consequence of becoming
proprietrix of possessions in the province of Georgia, she organized a
mission to North America. On the 27th of October, the missionaries
embarked, and after a passage of only six weeks, reached the place of
their destination, without having experienced one day of real bad
weather. Their labours were crowned with singular success.
Her labours increased with her years. She saw the spiritual darkness
which was overclouding the people; was thoroughly acquainted with the
character of the agency already in existence, and knew how insufficient
it was to reach the mass of the people. But instead of being honoured
for endeavouring to bring the sound of the gospel within the hearing of
the people, her labours were denounced as irregular, and her name was
blackened with reproach. Towards the close of 1781, her mind was
greatly distressed by unpleasant differences which sprang up in her
congregation at Reading. Still it was evident that God was blessing her
labours, that the fields were white unto the harvest. The Countess,
therefore, determined to appoint four of her most distinguished
clergymen to itinerate through England, and blow the gospel trumpet.
Many were converted to the Lord, and small congregations were gathered,
which grew into important churches.
It had always been the earnest desire of Lady Huntingdon that neither
she nor her Connection should sever the tie that bound them to the
Church of England. But in consequence of processes instituted in the
Ecclesiastical Courts, and the law laid down on the subject, no
alternative was left them. Accordingly, in 1783, they reluctantly
assumed the position of Dissenters, at the same time retaining the
liturgy with some modifications, the forms and even the vestments of
the Church of England, without its Episcopacy. A confession of faith
was drawn up, and a declaration was set forth, that “some things in the
liturgy, and many things in the discipline and government of the
Established Church, being contrary to Holy Scripture, they have felt it
necessary to secede.” Hitherto the great burden of conducting the
affairs of her Connection had mainly devolved upon the Countess
herself; but now feeling the infirmities of age, she bequeathed by her
will, dated January 11th, 1790, all her churches and residences to
trustees. Her family confirmed this disposition of her property, and
the trustees strictly carried out the intentions of the testatrix.
Now, almost at the close of her long and arduous course, the venerable
Countess truly experienced the blessedness of those who die in the
Lord, and whose works do follow them. Sometimes she appeared to catch a
glimpse of the celestial mansions, and then her weather-beaten features
were lighted up with a heavenly glory. The bursting of a blood-vessel
was the commencement of her last illness. She manifested the greatest
patience and resignation, and said to Lady Ann Erskine, “All the little
ruffles and difficulties which surrounded me, and all the pains I am
exercised with in this poor body, through mercy affect not the settled
peace and joy of my soul.” On the 12th of June, 1791, a change passed
over the Countess which afforded apprehensions of approaching death. A
little before she died, she frequently said, “I shall go to my Father
to-night;” and musingly repeated, “Can He forget to be gracious? Is
there any end of His loving-kindness?” Her physician visited her, and
shortly after her strength failed, and she appeared to sink into a
sleep. A friend took her hand, it was cold and clammy; he felt her
pulse, it was ceasing to beat; and as he leaned over her, she breathed
her last and fell asleep in Jesus. She died at her house in Spa Fields,
June 17th, 1791, in the eighty-fourth year of her age.
The news of her decease plunged the Christian world into grief and
sadness. She was interred in the family vault at Ashby-de-la-Zouch. Her
principal places of worship were hung in black; and not only her own
ministers, but many in the Establishment and among the nonconformists,
preached a funeral sermon to testify to her worth. Many tears were shed
at the mention of her name; a medal was struck off as a memento of her
death; and her well-known features were embalmed in the hearts of her
people.
_CONVERSION._
According to some, only the scum and offscourings of society need to be
born again. We believe that the purest, gentlest, loveliest, must
undergo this change before they enter the kingdom of God. It is a
radical reform, great in its character and lasting in its consequences.
Lady Huntingdon’s outward conduct was always blameless, and she had
moreover a zeal of God, yet for many years she was an utter stranger to
the spiritual nature of the gospel of Christ. She saw not the depravity
of the human heart; she knew nothing of salvation by faith in Jesus
Christ, and of the regenerating power of the Holy Spirit. She
entertained high opinions respecting the dignity of human nature; and
aspired to reach, by her own works, the lofty standard she had placed
before her. Liberal in her sentiments, prudent in her conduct,
courteous in her deportment, and profuse in her charities, she
surpassed her equals by birth, and the multitudes around her. But the
Countess was far from enjoying the happiness which she anticipated
would result from her endeavours to recommend herself to the favour of
Heaven. Her sister-in-law Lady Margaret Hastings had been awakened to
see the value of religious truth, and often conversed with her
respecting the concerns of her soul. Her experience formed a contrast
to the state of Lady Huntingdon’s mind. A severe illness soon laid the
Countess low, and brought her to the confines of the grave. She looked
back to her past life, but the piety, virtue, and morality in which she
had trusted, appeared to be tainted with sin. The report of the earnest
preaching of certain clergymen, who were called Methodists, reached
Donnington Park; the truth impressed some members of the Hastings
family; and through them Lady Huntingdon was directed to the truth as
it is in Jesus, and obtained lasting peace. The change in her heart
exerted a beneficial influence on her body; her disorder took a
favourable turn; she was restored to perfect health; and she solemnly
dedicated herself to God as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to
the Lord.
_THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE._
Full salvation through full trust in Jesus is at once the provision and
the demand of the gospel, and is, of course, the privilege and duty of
all. But the truth that the Lord Jesus is the righteousness of the
believer, in the sense of sanctification as well as in the sense of
justification, many are slow to perceive. Yet Scripture and the lives
of the great and good abundantly prove, that in both senses Christ is
complete to the believer, and in both, the believer is complete in
Christ. The Countess of Huntingdon is a true and noble type of the
real, whole-souled Christian. Religion took a strong hold upon her
inner nature, and her apprehension of Christ in His fulness was so
clear, that she was filled with heavenly consolations. The language of
her heart, as well as of her lips, was beautifully expressed by her
friend Dr. Watts:—
“_Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all!_”
The fashionable circle in which she moved was astonished; and unable to
comprehend the spiritual darkness through which she had passed, and the
spiritual light she now enjoyed, ridiculed her as a fanatic. Some
nobles even wished Lord Huntingdon to interpose his authority; but he
refused to interfere with her religious opinions. Dr. Southey,
unblushingly asserted that the religious feelings of Lady Huntingdon
originated in a decided insanity in her family; and adds that all the
arguments of Bishop Benson failed in bringing her to a more rational
sense of devotion. “Such a statement,” remarks her latest biographer,
“would not have deserved notice, were it not that the talents and
reputation of the poet laureate might be regarded by many as a
guarantee for its validity.” When the rupture took place between the
Prince of Wales and his father, George II., and the Prince set up his
own court at Kew, Lady Huntingdon attended it occasionally; but her
frequent absence was noticed, and provoked sarcasm. One day the Prince
of Wales inquired of Lady Charlotte Edwin where Lady Huntingdon was
that she so seldom visited the circle. Lady Charlotte replied with a
sneer, “I suppose praying with her beggars.” The Prince shook his head,
and, turning to her Ladyship, said, “Lady Charlotte, when I am dying, I
think I shall be happy to seize the skirt of Lady Huntingdon’s mantle,
to lift me up with her to heaven.”
_HER CHAPLAINS._
The religious sentiments and the glowing eloquence of the most
remarkable evangelist of modern times soon attracted the attention of
the Countess of Huntingdon, and, in 1748, she made George Whitefield
one of her chaplains. She then, and for many years afterwards, thought
that, as a peeress of the realm, she had a right to employ the
clergymen of the Church whom she had appointed as her chaplains in
openly proclaiming the everlasting gospel. Whitefield often preached in
the drawing-rooms of the Countess to large numbers of the most highly
distinguished nobility. Gifted by nature in an unusual degree as a
public speaker, her chaplain, despite the vilest aspersions, spoke as
one who had received a commission from on high to proclaim the
unsearchable riches of Christ; and this mission he fulfilled with
unabated ardour and success for nearly forty years. In the New World as
well as the Old, Whitefield had his trophies, and was listened to with
great delight by the princes of intellect and the beggars in
understanding. If souls would hear the gospel only under a ceiled roof,
he preached it there. If only in a church or a field, he proclaimed it
there. In temples made with hands, the parliament of letters, of
fashion, of theology, of statesmanship,—such men as Hume, Walpole,
Johnson, Goldsmith, Reynolds, Garrick, Warburton, and Chesterfield,
acknowledged the power of the preacher. On Moorfields, Kennington
Common, and Blackheath, vast crowds were powerfully impressed, and
cried out for salvation. He preached at Kingswood, and the miners came
out of their coal-pits in swarms—thousands on thousands flocked from
Bristol, till about twenty or thirty thousand persons were present. The
singing could be heard for two miles off, and the clear, rich, and
powerful voice of Whitefield could be distinctly heard for about a
mile. This is his own world; he loves, he says, to “mount his field
throne.” These colliers are as ignorant of religion as the inhabitants
of negro-land—as hardened as the islanders of Madagascar—without
feeling or education, profligate, abandoned, ferocious. He addresses
them, and what is the result? Tears flow from eyes which perhaps never
shed them before. Those white streaks which contrast so strongly with
the dark ground on which they are interlined, tell of the emotion that
is going on within. This celebrated preacher, in his letters speaks of
Lady Huntingdon in very flattering terms. He says, “She shines brighter
and brighter every day, and will yet I trust be spared for a nursing
mother to our Israel.”
A few years afterwards, the Countess took under her protection William
Romaine, by appointing him one of her chaplains. He had for a long time
occupied an important position in London, where he published several
popular treatises, and a great number of separate discourses. But the
preaching of the gospel was his enthusiastic work, and the Calvinistic
aspects of truth were put and kept in uniform prominence by him. He was
a man of fervent piety,—and to shelter him from persecution, Lady
Huntingdon secured his services to preach to the nobility in her
drawing-rooms, the poor in her kitchen, and to all classes in her
various places of worship.
About 1764, she added to the number of her chaplains the Hon. and Rev.
Walter Shirley, rector of Loughrea, in Ireland. His connexion with her
ladyship raised a violent storm of persecution against him in his own
county. But his heart was too deeply impressed with the truth to allow
his tongue to be silent. He became a warm and devoted labourer in the
various churches erected by the Countess. Thomas Haweis, LL.B., was
also chaplain to the Countess. Mr. Haweis took a prominent part in the
formation of the London Missionary Society, published many sermons, a
commentary on the Bible, and other works. He was a man of great zeal
and piety, and highly respected.
_THE FOUNDRESS OF A RELIGIOUS COMMUNITY._
At the time when the two leaders of Methodism, Wesley and Whitefield,
took adverse positions on points of theology—the former, zealous for
what was termed the Arminian; the latter, for the Calvinistic, mode of
holding and proclaiming the one Christian truth, which gives all glory
to God, and leaves human responsibility unimpugned; Lady Huntingdon
warmly professed her approval of Calvinistic doctrine, and gave the
whole of her influence to that side of Methodism. Whitefield conscious
of his want of ability to govern a community, wisely abstained from the
attempt to found a denomination, and gave his powerful aid to his noble
patroness in her wide-spread endeavours to maintain and spread
Calvinistic Methodism. It was in this way that her ladyship became the
head of what was termed “the Countess of Huntingdon’s Connexion.” This
costly movement included the erection of many spacious churches, the
support of ministers, and the founding and endowing of a college at
Trevecca, in Wales, for the education of young men, who were left at
liberty, when their studies were completed, to serve in the ministry of
the gospel either in the Countess’s Connexion, in the Established
Church, or in any other of the Churches of Christ. In 1792, the college
was removed from Trevecca to Cheshunt, where it still exists in a state
of efficiency and usefulness. Her pecuniary resources were not large,
yet she devoted upwards of £100,000 towards the spread of evangelical
religion. Although the term “Connexion” is still applied to the body,
they do not exist in the form of a federal ecclesiastical union. The
congregational form of Church government is practically in operation
among them, and several of the congregations have joined that communion.
_CHARACTER OF THE COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON._
She was not what is usually termed beautiful, yet there was a grace and
sweetness about her features which fully compensated for more
perishable charms. Her figure was noble and commanding; her eyes were
large and lustrous; her nose slightly acquiline; her lips well-formed
and expressive; her forehead bold and intellectual. Her head-dress was
plain and quite unfashionable; her bonnet unpretending; and her gown
invariably black silk.
Lady Huntingdon possessed great natural talents. This is vouched for,
not so much by her letters as by her actual administrative
performances, by what she did in governing so long a large association,
and in directing and controlling the minds of many educated clergy and
uneducated lay-preachers. The leading and most noted public men, such
as Chesterfield, Bolingbroke, and several of the bishops, listened with
enthusiasm to her conversation. The celebrated ladies who ruled the
court, and drew the flower of the nobility to their feet, were
powerfully influenced by her Ladyship. Her conversational powers were
remarkable. There was scarcely a subject on which she could not talk
with freedom.
The Countess sympathised with human misery in all its forms, and to the
utmost of her ability relieved it. Her nature was exceedingly generous.
One of her ministers once called on her Ladyship with a wealthy person
from the country. When they left, he exclaimed, “What a lesson! Can a
person of her noble birth, nursed in the lap of grandeur, live in such
a house, so meanly furnished; and shall I, a tradesman, be surrounded
with luxury and elegance! From this moment, I shall hate my house, my
furniture, and myself, for spending so little for God and so much in
folly.” Religion with her was not a creed, nor an ecclesiastical
position, but a living power. She admired consistency, and exemplified
it in her life. It must not be supposed that she was perfect. She had
her frailties, which she was aware of, and mourned over. But her
private virtues and her public acts have ranked her among the most
illustrious reformers of the Christian Church.
_SECTION II.—ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF GORDON._
“The Church of Christ has often been indebted to ladies in high station
whose hearts the Lord touched, who devoted themselves with singular
ardour to the extension of His kingdom; using the graciousness of their
rank and breeding to strengthen His ministers, and win favour for His
holy cause; and who in so doing had a peculiar heavy cross of
self-denial and reproach to bear. Had we lived in days when the
gracious dead were canonized, and supposed to be helpful in heaven as
they had been on earth, we should doubtless have had a Scottish Saint
Elizabeth, in the last Duchess of Gordon.”
ANDREW CRICHTON.
_RELIGION IN HIGH LIFE._
Christians have generally sprung from humble life. We love to see piety
anywhere; but the histories of those who have come from the ranks
always lay deepest hold of the Christian mind. When the poor woman in
the almshouse takes her bread and her water, and blesses God for both;
when the homeless wanderer, who has not where to lay her head, lifts
her eye and says, “My Father will provide,” it is like the glow-worm in
the dark, leaving a spark the more conspicuous because of the blackness
around it. The evangelization of the poor is a sure sign of Christ’s
gospel. But let us rejoice, that though it hath been hitherto, we are
afraid, incontestably the rule, that not many of the wise, mighty, and
noble have been called, yet there have been many splendid exceptions.
There have always been some Christians of noble birth and rank and
wealth. Not only is the gospel translatable into every tongue, and
suitable to all the varying phases of human intellect; but it can
descend to the lowliest cottages, and rise to the most gorgeous palaces
and gild their very pinnacles with celestial light. Philosophy has wept
at the recital of the story of the Cross; wealth has offered its houses
for the Saviour who had for His home the cold mountain wet with the
evening dew; science has cast her brightest crowns at the bleeding feet
of Emmanuel; and art has entreated the rejected Redeemer to call her
most fashionable temples His own. We could produce a long catalogue of
illustrious names to prove that religion can command the homage of
genius, taste, and rank. The religion of Jesus is not the monopoly of
the poor; it is designed for those who are surrounded with objects
which flatter their vanity, which minister to their pride, and which
throw them into the circle of alluring and tempting pleasures. It
places all on the same level in regard to salvation. There is no royal
road to heaven. All are saved in the same way. In our own times there
are not wanting some who have laid rank and wealth on the altar of God.
_BIOGRAPHY._
Elizabeth Brodie, was born in London, on the 20th of June, 1794. There
had been Brodies of Brodie for many generations. The most noted of her
ancestors was her grandfather Alexander, commonly called Lord Brodie,
who lived in the days of the Covenant, and was one of the judges of the
Court of Session. Her father was Alexander Brodie; who having acquired
a large fortune in India, returned home, purchased the estates of
Arnhall and the Burn, in Kincardineshire, and became member of
parliament for Elgin. Her grandmother was Lady Betty Wemyss, one of the
Sutherland family; and her mother was Miss Elizabeth Wemyss, of Wemyss
Castle, a grand-daughter of the Earl of Wemyss. Her progenitors were
not only illustrious, but virtuous. Grace is not of blood, but of God;
yet in the heritage which the righteous leave to their children, a
moral resemblance may often be traced even through intervening
generations.
The first six years of her life were spent at Leslie House, in
Fifeshire, and were rendered memorable by the death of her mother. In
what she called “her mother’s box,” were found reminiscences of that
parent and of her own infant days. She stayed for some time with her
maiden aunts at Elgin, which she always regarded with affection as the
home of her early years. At the age of eight she was sent to a
boarding-school in London. Here she had, with immense difficulty, to
unlearn her native Scotch, and acquire a command of English words and
English pronunciation. Her education was thorough in all the ordinary
branches, and she was imbued with a taste for intellectual and
scientific pursuits. Before seventeen, Miss Brodie came out into
society at the Fife Hunt, in Cupar, with her cousin, the beautiful Miss
Wemyss, afterwards Countess of Rosslyn.
In the reign of the first Charles, Lord Lewis Gordon, afterwards
Marquis of Huntly, rushed over the possessions of the gentle Lord
Brodie, burnt his mansion and laid waste his lands. But in the times of
the third George, another Marquis of Huntly came to Brodie on a
different errand. The Rev. A. Moody Stuart pleasantly says, “Unlike his
wayward ancestor, he ran no warlike raid through the plains of Moray,
and brought back no forceful prey to adorn his castle at Huntly. But
the gallant soldier made a better conquest. In the ever strange
circling of events he sought and won the hand of the young and
beautiful Elizabeth Brodie, and conducted his bride with festive
rejoicings to his home in Strathbogie. There she shone a far nobler
treasure than the spoil of her father’s house; for in due time she was
called to inherit the untold riches of that Father’s grace, and so to
shed a brighter lustre on the coronet of Gordon than it had ever worn
before, illuminating it with a heavenly radiance ere it was buried in
her tomb.” At the age of nineteen, the Marquis of Huntly was Miss
Brodie’s accepted suitor, and on the 11th of December, 1813, they were
married at Bath. Her husband, as colonel of the 92nd, or Gordon
Highlanders, had seen hard service, and could show his wounds. They had
one great trial in common to bear: their childless wedlock sealed the
fate of the house of Gordon. After their marriage they went abroad. On
the 16th of June, 1815, they drew near Brussels, ignorant of what was
happening in the immediate neighbourhood. The Duchess of Richmond had
given her famous ball, and now all was confusion and dismay. Troubled
minds were set at rest by the British squares at Waterloo.
The Marchioness of Huntly spent the first few years of her married
life, in much the same way as ladies of her rank generally do. She
drank freely of the pleasures of the world, and God was not in all her
thoughts. In the autumn of 1815, she returned to Scotland, and Lord
Huntly determined to give her a festive reception on her coming home to
Strathbogie; and because the winter was not suitable, he deferred it
till her birthday in June. The place of meeting was the castle park;
the people danced on the greensward, and Lady Huntly distributed small
silver coins to the children with that large-hearted love for the young
so remarkable in her after career. She took still greater pleasure in a
festive tour which followed a few years after. On this occasion the
spirit of the old highland clanship was revived; fiery crosses blazed
from hill to hill; and Lady Huntly passed in true Celtic style over the
Gordon estates, receiving the homage of her vassals. In 1819, Lord
Huntly resolved to give a highland welcome worthy of his rank, to
Prince Leopold, at the beautiful lodge of Kinrara. With the ardent
loyalty of the highlands, the clansmen held themselves ready to honour
their own chief and to welcome his royal guest. With his highland
bonnet, and kilted in the dark tartan of his clan, Huntly invited the
prince to ascend the hill of Tor Alvie, which commanded a fine view of
the lofty mountains, and the noble Spey. There they found the
marchioness and her party waiting to receive them. But the tartaned
highlanders were nowhere to be seen. Their chieftain stood with eagle
plume:—
“But they with mantles folded round
Were crouched to rest upon the ground,
Scarce to be known by curious eye
From the deep heather where they lie;
So well was matched the tartan screen
With heath-bell dark, and brackens green.
The mountaineer then whistled shrill,
And he was answered from the hill;
Instant through copse and heath arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows.
And every tuft of broom gave life
To plaided warrior armed for strife;
Watching their leader’s beck and will,
All silent there they stood, and still.
Short space he stood, then raised his hand
To his brave clansmen’s eager band;
Then SHOUT of WELCOME, shrill and wide,
Shook the steep mountain’s steady side.
Thrice it arose, and brake and fell
Three times gave back the martial yell.”
“Ah,” exclaimed the Prince, surprised and delighted, “we’ve got
Roderick Dhu here!”
In the summer of 1827, the old Duke died, and the Marquis and
Marchioness of Huntly became the Duke and Duchess of Gordon. The
hereditary influence of the Gordon family in other days was scarcely
less than regal in the north of Scotland; and even at the time to which
we refer, retained a strong element of clanship added to that of wealth
and rank. Amidst the enthusiastic rejoicings of the numerous tenantry,
the Duke and Duchess took possession of the noble castle. It had been
called a “castle of felicity,” and nothing was wanting to make it so,
if the good things of this life could satisfy the soul. The Duchess had
learned how poor earth’s highest joys are in themselves. She therefore
identified herself more with the people and cause of Christ. No balls
were given at Gordon Castle during the nine years she was its mistress.
In May, 1830, William IV. came to the throne, and his queen, the
sainted Adelaide, selected the Duchess of Gordon as Mistress of the
Robes at the coronation, and honoured her ever afterwards with her
special friendship. This was a strong temptation to return to the
world, and become a leader of fashion; but into the court, as into the
ducal palace, she carried a simple, fervent exhibition of Christian
principle. Most of her time, however, was spent at Gordon Castle, where
she presided with queenly grace over the numerous and noble company
always sure to be there. All things were ordered according to her own
high spiritual ideal.
In May, 1836, George, last Duke of Gordon, was suddenly taken from her
side in London. The blow was heavy, but her sorrow was assuaged by the
assurance that he slept in Jesus. So little was his death expected,
that the Duchess had turned an ugly quarry into a beautiful garden, and
was looking forward to the pleasure of driving her invalid husband
thither, and winning a smile from his sick and weary face. But alas! he
was carried past her blooming paradise in his coffin.
The first year of the Duchess’ widowhood was spent on the Continent;
after which she returned to Huntly Lodge, where she had spent her
married youth. It now became a serious question how far she should
continue to maintain the style and living of a Duchess. To have lived
on a thousand a year instead of ten thousand would have saved her from
many temptations, and spared her much money for the Church’s treasury.
But having been numbered by the Lord in the rank of the “not many
noble” that are called, she decided to abide therein with God. We think
she was right. The light that shines through the cottage window will
cheer and guide the lonely wanderer who happens to come within its
narrow range; but the lamp on the lighthouse is seen far and wide, and
directs thousands to the sheltering harbour.
The Scotch are a devout and fervent people. But in some localities the
inhabitants were religious only in name. Strathbogie was chequered by
bright lights and dark shadows—the latter, alas! by far the more
numerous. The ministers preached that it was good to be good, bad to be
bad, and wise to eschew fanaticism; and the communicants deemed family
worship an excellent thing in the stanzas of the “Cottar’s Saturday
Night.” In answer to prayer, mighty apostles visited the dark land.
With every movement which seemed to bring life to the spiritually dead
district, the Duchess identified herself; and, therefore, although she
did not till long afterwards sympathise with the position taken up by
the party headed by Dr. Chalmers, she opened her house to him and the
other eminent men who came to preach the gospel in Strathbogie.
In 1847, after a severe struggle, she became a member of the Free
Church of Scotland; and in August partook of the Lord’s supper for the
first time along with the people at Huntly, as a member of their own
communion. Chiefly through her instrumentality the popular mind
suddenly awoke to the importance of religion; clergymen became deeply
fervent, and the morals of a large portion of the people rose at once
to the high Christian level. In 1859, a young man who had been long
halting between two opinions, was overheard disputing in a byre with an
old self-righteous man, and saying, “Na, na that’ll no do; if ye dinna
get Christ _first_, ye can do naething.”
The end is soon told. She spent the winter of 1862-3 in London. A
conference of ministers was held at Huntly Lodge on the 13th of
January, 1864, and another was appointed for the 10th of February; but
between those dates the unexpected summons of death arrived. She fell
asleep at half-past seven on Sabbath evening, the 31st of January, in
her seventieth year.
On the 9th of February her Grace was buried. The spectacle was deeply
affecting as the procession passed through Huntly; and in the midst of
deep silence, respect, and universal regard, the corpse was carried
through Elgin to the vault of the noble Dukes of Gordon. The coffin was
placed beside her husband’s, in the only remaining space for the
deceased wearers of the ducal coronet and their children. Till the last
trumpet shall sound, that tomb shall remain closed on the last and the
best of an illustrious race.
_NEW LIFE._
In 1821, the Marchioness of Huntly began to feel anxious about her
soul. God can break the hardest rock with the feeblest rod, and from
the mouth of a babe ordain strength. A highland servant whom the
Duchess Jane had left at Kinrara, with all reverence for the
chieftain’s lady, ventured to drop a quiet remark which sank into her
heart and was never altogether forgotten. Lady Huntly was discovered in
the act of reading the Bible by one of the leaders of aristocratic
gaiety, and the incident was declared to be the best joke they had
heard of for many a day. They thought, however, that a little clever
quizzing would soon make her return to her old ways. But they were
mistaken! They called her “Methodist,” and she said within herself, “If
for so little I am called a Methodist, let me have something more
worthy of the name;” and set herself to read the Bible still more
earnestly. In her new course of Bible reading she came to the passage,
“If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how
much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that
ask Him?” The words arrested her, and from that time she began to pray
for the Holy Spirit. In 1822, she accompanied Lord Huntly to Geneva,
and there found an enlightened friend in Madame Vernet, whom she
afterwards looked upon as her spiritual mother. From Geneva she went to
Paris, and, while travelling, read Erskine’s “Internal Evidences,”
which she found very profitable to her soul. In Paris she found counsel
and help in the house of Lady Olivia Sparrow; and at length, during a
visit at Kimbolton Castle, the residence of the Duke of Manchester, she
was brought to believe savingly on the Lord Jesus Christ.
_DEEPENING OF THE LORD’S WORK._
The commencement of the year 1827 forms an epoch in the spiritual
history of Lady Huntly. She and her husband were on the Continent with
two nieces, when one of them died suddenly at Naples. The bereavement
was keenly felt, but greatly sanctified. About this time she read
Leighton on Peter, to which she attributed a great deepening of the
work of grace; and she afterwards wrote—“Pray keep Leighton for my
sake, for I have a particular value for that copy. I truly rejoice to
find that you can read Leighton with pleasure. I know by experience it
is a test of the state of the mind.”
When placed in a situation which required the heart to be hot like a
furnace, and the lip to be burning like a live coal, she found that
grace was proportioned to duty. To the first period of her Christian
life she thus refers: “In my own case, I believe that for two years I
was a saved sinner, a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, and yet that
during all that time I did not see the exceeding sinfulness of sin. I
believed in a general way that I was a sinner who deserved the
punishment of a righteous God; I believed that whosoever came to Jesus
Christ should be saved; but I had no deep sense of sin,—of my sin.
Since then, I believe I have passed through almost every phase of
Christian experience that I have ever read or heard of; and now I have
such a sense of my utter vileness and unworthiness, that I feel that
the great and holy God might well set His heel on me, so to speak, and
crush me into nothing.” So marked was the growth of grace at this time
that she used to talk of it as a second conversion. For several years
she had apprehended Christ as her title to heaven; but she now saw that
He was also her meetness for heaven, and was filled with peace and joy.
At her departure from Huntly Lodge, to Gordon Castle, she received what
we must call a token from God. With some other ladies, she paid a visit
to the old castle at Huntly, on the banks of the Deveron, and within
the fair demesne which she was to leave for a time. In an ancient hall,
with carved escutcheons on its walls, they were attracted by an
inscription on a scroll high above them, which neither the Duchess nor
her visitors could decipher. They moved on, but she remained gazing at
the carved figures. Suddenly the sun burst out from behind a cloud, and
she read in the light of its rays these words:
TO . THAES . THAT . LOVE . GOD . AL . THINGIS . VIRKIS .
TO . THE . BEST .
It was as if a voice from heaven had spoken. She had gotten a motto for
her future life; and ever after, Romans viii. 28, was one of the
pillars that upheld the temple of God in her heart—one of the elements
that leavened her spiritual life.
_OPEN-AIR SERVICES._
On the Saturday before her first communion as a Presbyterian, it was
evident that the church would be too small on the following Lord’s-day.
The Duchess therefore immediately placed the broad green area of what
had been the old castle court at the service of the congregation. A
naval captain with two or three visitors set up some military tents,
and the ancient fortress was turned into a temple. The soldiers’ tents,
with their white canvas and scarlet mountings, had a very picturesque
appearance. On the Sabbath morning a large congregation assembled under
the blue vault of heaven.
“Then did we worship in that fane
By God to mankind given;
Whose lamp is the meridian sun,
And all the stars of heaven.
“Whose roof is the cerulean sky;
Whose floor the earth so fair;
Whose walls are vast immensity:
All nature worships there.”
Before the close of that service more than one was constrained to say,
“God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined
into our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God
in the face of Jesus Christ.” In 1859, she wrote in reference to
evangelistic efforts: “There were eight thousand tracts given away at
the feeing-market yesterday.” In the summer of 1860, many thousands
assembled in the castle park, at the invitation of the Duchess, to
listen to the silver trumpet of the gospel sounding the year of
jubilee. Similar gatherings were held during the three following years.
On some of these occasions it was computed that seven thousand persons
were present; on others, ten thousand. The Lord’s people were
refreshed, and many careless ones were awakened. In 1863, the Duchess
writes: “I cannot but wonder to see the meetings increasing in numbers
and interest every year; not as a rendezvous for a pleasant day in the
country, but really very solemn meetings, where the presence of the
Lord is felt and the power of His Spirit manifested.” Clergymen of a
certain school may sneer at lay evangelists; she could not join them in
their sneers. It may be that these men are not always prudent—that
their zeal sometimes outruns their discretion. Well, what then? Would
we have the sentinel to walk with measured military step, who is on his
way to trample out the lighted match which has been set to a train of
gunpowder? If not human lives, are human souls to be sacrificed to the
martinetism of the excessively prudent? If we are to contend against a
thing merely because of its abuse, then all preaching must come to an
end, clerical as well as lay.
_GOOD WORKS._
A firm believer in the doctrine of a free salvation through the mercy
of God and the merits of Christ the Duchess of Gordon ever echoed the
exhortation of the apostle, “Be careful to maintain good works.” So far
from holding good works cheap, she believed that by them God was
glorified, and by them on the great day she would be judged. “The tree
is known by its fruit.” “Every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit
is hewn down and cast into the fire.” At Gordon Castle a room was
fitted up as a little chapel for morning and family prayers, and where,
aided by the tones of an organ, the Sabbath evenings might be rendered
profitable to the visitors. She had always some benevolent scheme on
hand, but was frequently hampered as to the means. When anxious to
build a chapel and infant school, she took a gold vase worth £1200 to
London in the hope of getting it sold. But as she had difficulty in
finding a purchaser, she writes, “The Duchess of Beaufort, hearing of
my vase, thought of her diamond ear-rings, which she got me to dispose
of for a chapel in Wales, and her diamonds made me think of my jewels;
and as the Duke has always been most anxious for the chapel, he agreed
with me that stones were much prettier in a chapel wall than round
one’s neck; and so he allowed me to sell £600 worth, or rather, what
brought that, for they cost more than double.” The Sabbath was
pre-eminently honoured. No departures or arrivals took place on that
day. To those who think that the gratuitous and instant forgiveness of
the gospel must be fatal to future obedience, it might be sufficient to
remark, that the noblest patterns of piety, and the most finished
specimens of personal worth, are those who counted their own excellence
the merest dross, and yet felt assured that for another’s sake they
were precious in God’s sight. But the gospel itself assures us that the
faith which receives the Saviour is the first step of new
obedience—that it is only when God’s righteousness is accepted, that
morality begins.
_CHARACTER OF THE DUCHESS OF GORDON._
From the pages of her accomplished biographer, we learn that in her
youth she had a robust physical frame; and H. P. Willis, Esq., the
American traveller, tells us, that she was a tall and very handsome
woman, with a smile of the most winning sweetness. Peculiarly
attractive in her manner, her expression, which in old age was quite
heavenly, so lighted up all her features as to convey the impression
that she must have been very beautiful when young. But it was not her
handsome features which called forth admiration so much, as her tall
and graceful form, added to which was a countenance beautified by
intelligence and life and winning gentleness.
Her intellect was as vigorous as her body was robust. She availed
herself of the power of invigorating her mental faculties, of acquiring
knowledge from experience, of pursuing knowledge for its own sake, of
deriving knowledge from the past, and of rendering the possession of
knowledge an enjoyment. Thus she wanted less than most girls a mother’s
arm to lean upon; and needed less than most wives a husband’s intellect
to guide. She seems to have arrived at her conclusions slowly; but
having arrived at them, she held them firmly.
Kind words and good deeds will be legible, when sculptured inscriptions
are illegible. These speak when the granite and the marble are silent.
The benevolence of the Duchess was world-wide. Perhaps her lavish
hospitality was sometimes taken advantage of; but the keenest cavillers
must admit that her own eye and heart were single. Her aim seemed to be
to convince her guests that the house and all that was in it was their
own. The day after the funeral, an aged man, with moistened eyes made
these remarks. “This is the greatest calamity that ever befel this
district; of a’ the Dukes that ever reigned here, there was never one
like her; there’s nane in this neighbourhood, high or low, but was
under some obligation to her; for she made it her study to benefit her
fellow-men; and what crowds o’ puir craturs she helped every day!” A
soldier who had been in the Crimea, said: “You know that I have seen
much to render my heart callous, but I never was unmanned till now; I
never knew before how tenderly I loved that honoured lady.” She had a
strong feeling of nationality, and a great love for everything Scotch,
such as the Jacobite songs. But when she received new life, these were
exchanged for the songs of Zion. Her spirit was most catholic, and she
longed to see conflicting sentiments blended into brotherhood, and to
hear the grand text repeated throughout all lands: “There is neither
Jew nor Greek, neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female:
for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.”
_SECTION III._—_MARY JANE GRAHAM._
“Her pursuits were only valuable in proportion as they were
consecrated. In everything ‘to her to live was Christ.’ Nothing else
seemed worthy of the name of Christ.”
REV. CHARLES BRIDGES, M.A.
_PIETY AND CIRCUMSTANCE._
In dealing with many who avow themselves unbelievers in Christianity,
we not unfrequently meet with an objection by the help of which they
attempt to construct an argument against our religion. The tendencies
of the mind we are told, are entirely dependent on the development of
the brain, and the external influences operating upon these, make up
together the sum of the influences concerned in the production of the
faiths of the world. These sceptical reasoners tell us that it is just
as irrational to expect Christianity to spring up in the universal
mind, as to expect to paint the whole globe with one particular flower.
The soil has laws which determine its products; and the mind has laws
which determine its beliefs. How shall we meet this? We might deny that
the faith that worketh by love, purifieth the heart, and overcometh the
world, is the product of suggestion, which is multiform; and assert it
to be the judgment of reason, which is one and the same over all the
world, in every mind and age. But we prefer appealing to the practical
refutation afforded us by experience. It is a fact that our Christian
religion has already traversed the globe, rooting itself in every soil,
and bearing fruit in every climate. When civilization has done her
utmost, Christianity can out-dazzle her sublimest triumphs. In the
clime where philosophy holds court with refinement—where poor
vulgarity cannot breathe, we challenge the world to point out a single
instance in which the gospel was unable to accommodate itself to the
peculiar requirements of the people. What has been its effects in the
land of terror, upon the savagest of human beings. It has lifted the
cannibal from his pool of blood, and led him like a little child to the
altar of consecration. The door of the world has been thrown open, and
the Lord’s servants have been commanded to enter in. India has been
made accessible to the missionaries of every Church. The gospel is
advancing rapidly among the teeming millions of the celestial empire.
In Africa, degraded Fingoes, stupid Hottentots, and warlike Kaffirs,
have had their understandings enlightened, and their hearts softened,
by Divine truth and grace.
“Sound the timbrel, strike the lyre,
Wake the trumpet’s blast of fire!”
for piety is independent of circumstance.
_BIOGRAPHY._
Mary Jane Graham, was born in London, on the 11th of April, 1803, where
her father was engaged in a respectable business. She was the subject
of early religious convictions. At the age of seven, her habits of
secret prayer evidenced the influence of Divine grace upon her soul.
During the greater part of her childhood, and the commencement of her
riper years, she was enabled to walk with God in sincerity, and without
any considerable declension.
Her school career began before she was eight years old. She was,
however, shortly removed, because of ill health, and when about the age
of ten was sent to a different kind of school. As far as it was lawful
she always screened the faults of her companions, and was ever ready
and willing to plead for them when in disgrace; and so powerful was her
advocacy, that her preceptress was constrained to remove out of her way
when her judgment compelled her to persevere in her discipline.
At the age of twelve her delicate health again occasioned her removal
from school. Her illness lasted about two months, and during that time,
when confined upon a sofa, she committed to memory the whole Book of
Psalms. She was delighted with Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” and for many
successive mornings repeated three hundred lines. After her recovery
she spent several months by the seaside. About the age of sixteen she
was brought to the ordinance of confirmation, and publicly joined
herself to the Lord in a perpetual covenant never to be broken.
About the age of seventeen, Miss Graham fell, for a few months, from
the heavenly atmosphere of communion with God, into the dark and dismal
shades of infidelity. The metaphysical structure of her mind, combined
with a defective apprehension of her sad state by nature, induced a
spirit of self-dependence; which led to backsliding from God. In the
frivolities of the world she sought in vain for that priceless boon, a
quiet conscience. Wearied at length, she turned to religion for
comfort, but found that she had no religion; she had refused to give
glory to God, and now her feet were stumbling upon the dark mountains.
The Divinity of Christ had often been to her an occasion of perplexity.
Repeated examination had fully convinced her that it was a scriptural
doctrine; yet so repulsive was it to her proud heart, that she was led
from thence to doubt the truth of the Bible itself. After a few months’
conflict, she was brought, to the light and liberty of truth, and the
once abhorred doctrine became exceedingly precious. “From that time,”
to use her own words, “I have continued to sit at the feet of Jesus,
and to hear His word, taking Him for my teacher and guide, in things
temporal as well as spiritual.”
Miss Graham continued to reside in London, and to devote herself more
unreservedly to various studies and active labours in the service of
God her Saviour. During her residence in the metropolis, the ministry
of the Rev. Watts Wilkinson, and a deep study of the sacred volume,
were the means of advancing her knowledge and experience of scriptural
truth. Adorned by God with high intellect, which she cultivated with
care, and sanctified for her Master’s service, she thirsted for
knowledge, and relished its acquisition with peculiar delight. She
wrote a treatise on the intellectual, moral, and religious uses of
mathematical science, which abounds with wise and judicious
observations on the objects and motives of the worldly and Christian
student.
But her studies were not confined to the severer branches of knowledge.
In some of her more lively exercises of mind she took up the subject of
chemistry. She wrote a short but accurate development of the principles
of music. Botany also attracted her attention. She had prosecuted, as
one of her chiefest studies, the noble literature and tongue of
Britain. The best writers on the philosophy of mind were familiar to
her. With the principles of Locke she was thoroughly acquainted. She
had profited much by Stewart. “Butler’s Analogy” was also upon her
first shelf. She had cultivated an acquaintance with the classics of
ancient Greece and Rome, and was perfectly familiar with the French,
Italian, and Spanish languages. In order to improve herself in the
knowledge of the languages, she made considerable use of them in mutual
correspondence with her young friends.
Her peculiar singleness of aim stimulated her to apply her literary
acquisitions to valuable practical purposes. The discovery of a strong
tincture of infidelity among the Spanish refugees, combined with the
recollection of her own fall, excited a compassionate, earnest, and
sympathetic concern on their behalf. The following extract from a
letter written in September, 1825, gives a touching view of her
feelings towards these unhappy men. “I have read one part of ‘Las
Ruinas,’ and in reading it I was struck with the reflection that the
best answer would be a continual reference to the word of God. I
thought therefore of placing my observations on the blank pages, and of
filling the margin of the printed paper with references. I beseech you
to pray, that if I be not a fit instrument for the conversion of the
souls of these poor Spanish exiles, the Holy Spirit would be pleased to
raise up some other.”
Upon her removal from London to Stoke Fleming, near Dartmouth, Devon,
which took place in consequence of protracted indisposition; her
energies were still employed in the service of her Redeemer, and of His
Church. During the first summer of her country residence, she regularly
attended the parish workhouse at seven o’clock, to explain the
Scriptures to the poor previous to the commencement of their daily
labour. The children of the parish were the objects of her constant
solicitude. She drew out questions upon the parables and miracles as
helps for Sunday-school teachers; and, when prevented by illness from
attending the school, she assembled the children at her own house for
instruction. The young women also in the parish occupied a large share
of her anxious thoughts, and she appropriated a separate evening for
their instruction. She was a constant cottage visitor. The following
passage from her mathematical manuscript is beautiful, and shows
clearly the high and consecrated spirit with which she connected this
humble ministration with her intellectual pleasures. “Do you ever
experience this proud internal consciousness of superior genius or
learning? God has placed a ready antidote within your reach. The abode
of learned leisure is seldom far from the humble dwelling of some
unlettered Christian. Thither let your steps be directed. ‘Take sweet
counsel’ with your poor uneducated brother. There you will find the
man, whom our ‘King delighteth to honour.’ His mean chamber, graced
with one well-worn book, is as ‘the house of God, and the very gate of
heaven.’ Observe how far the very simplicity of his faith, and the
fervour of his love, exceed anything you can find in your own
experience, cankered as it is with intellectual pride. God has taught
him many lessons, of which all your learning has left you ignorant.
Make him your instructor in spiritual things. He is a stranger to the
names of your favourite poets and orators; but he is very familiar with
the sweet psalmist of Israel. He can give you rich portions of the
eloquence of one who ‘spake as never man spake.’ He can neither ‘tell
you the number of the stars, nor call them by their names;’ but he will
discourse excellently concerning the Star of Bethlehem. He is unable to
attempt the solution of a difficult problem; but he can enter into some
of those deep things of God’s law, which to an unhumbled heart are dark
and mysterious. He will not talk to you ‘in words which man’s wisdom
teacheth;’ but oh! what sweet and simple expressions of Divine love are
those ‘which the Holy Ghost has taught him’! He ‘knows nothing but
Christ crucified;’ but this is the excellent knowledge, to which all
other knowledge is foolishness. He has ‘the fear of the Lord; that is
wisdom. He departs from evil; that is understanding.’ When your soul is
refreshed by this simple and lovely communion with one of the meanest
of God’s saints, return to your learned retirement. Look over your
intellectual possessions. Choose out the brightest jewel in your
literary cabinet. Place it by the side of ‘the meek and quiet spirit’
of this obscure Christian. Determine which is the ornament of greater
price. Compare the boasted treasures of your mind with the spiritual
riches of your illiterate brother. Run over the whole catalogue. Let
not one be omitted; the depth of your understanding and the strength of
your reasonings, the brilliancy of your fancy, the fire of your
eloquence. Be proud of them. Glory in them. You cannot. They dwindle
into insignificance.”
About a year after her settlement in Devon, she became a decided
invalid, and except in the year 1827, she never moved beyond the
garden, and only two or three times ventured into the outward air. For
the last two years she was entirely confined to her room, and unable to
be dressed. During the whole of that period she was watched over by her
mother, and surrounded by books. Her beloved Bible was always under her
pillow, the first thing in her hand in the morning and the last at
night. For a short time before her death, the enemy was permitted to
harass her soul, and her lively apprehensions of the gospel were
occasionally obscured. Her bodily sufferings were most severe, arising
from a complication of diseases. Life terminated at last by a rapid
mortification in one of her legs. The last words she was heard to
utter, were: “I am come into deep waters; O God, my rock. Hold Thou me
up, and I shall be safe.” The next morning, Friday, December 10th,
1830, without a sign or struggle, she entered into her eternal rest.
Her lungs, which had been supposed to be sound, were discovered after
death to have been fatally diseased. Her heart also was found to be
enlarged.
Thus upheld by the good hope of the gospel, this blessed sufferer,
ransomed sinner, and victorious believer, fell asleep in the arms of
her Saviour and her God. With hearts clad in the habiliments of sorrow,
relatives and friends followed all that could die of Miss Graham to the
lonely graveyard. The Christian has always a garden around the
sepulchre. To such death is not the penalty of sin, but the gracious
summons of the Saviour—the introduction to that world where the pure
earth, unsmitten by a curse, shall never be broken for a grave.
_THE GREAT CHANGE._
From her own history we learn that Miss Graham was converted to God
when only seven years old. Yet it must be admitted that instability
marked her early course in the ways of religion. The general tone,
however, of her spiritual feeling manifested the habitual operation of
a high measure of Divine influence; while her occasional depressions
seem not to have sunk her below the ordinary level, and were doubtless
connected with those exercises of humiliation described in her
correspondence which will find an echo in the hearts of all generous
Christians. A deep sense of her own unworthiness was a prominent
feature of her life. In all her natural loveliness, with all her gentle
and amiable attractions, she lay down before God profoundly in the
dust, and poured out from the very bottom of her heart the often
repeated cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” The Holy Spirit had
taught her, that the Searcher of hearts sees guilt in the fairest
characters; and that to be saved she must be Divinely renewed, and to
see the kingdom of God she must be born again. While Miss Graham was,
in the estimation of her parents and of all the members of the
household, all that their hearts could wish, she felt her need of an
entire and implicit dependence on Jesus Christ for salvation. She was
also deeply anxious to bring others to the Saviour, that His Cross
might be covered with trophies, and His crown blaze with jewels. If she
heard of any that were awakened to a sense of their state and condition
in the sight of God, it was always with great delight. Often has she
been known on such occasions to shed tears of joy. While her love for
the ministers and ordinances of God are worthy of special remark, we
must not forget to mention her love to the brethren—these are
conscious and unequivocal marks of vital Christianity.
_THEOLOGICAL ATTAINMENTS._
The fine, powerful, and spiritual mind of Miss Graham, is abundantly
illustrated in her writings and correspondence. For sound divinity,
clear reasoning, and fervent piety, there is probably no book in the
English language superior to her “Test of Truth.” Scott’s “Force of
Truth,” though a valuable work, will bear no comparison with it. In a
posthumous work, “The Freeness and Sovereignty of God’s Justifying and
Electing Grace,” she furnishes us with a full, clear, and scriptural
statement on the humbling doctrine of original sin. “It is the very
first lesson in the school of Christ: and it is only by being well
rooted and grounded in these first principles that we can hope to go on
to perfection. The doctrine is written in Scripture as with a sunbeam.
If we do not feel some conviction of it in our own hearts, it affords a
sad proof that we still belong to that ‘generation that are pure in
their own eyes, and yet is not washed from their filthiness.’” After
adducing most convincing Scriptural evidence, she forcibly illustrates
the subject by the case of infants, and appeals to the sacred records
of Christian experience. To the doctrine of the total depravity of man,
she thus applies the _reductio ad absurdum_ method of proof: “If man be
not utterly depraved, he must be in one of these two states—either
perfectly good, without any mixture of sin; or good, with some mixture
of evil and imperfection. The first of these suppositions carries its
own absurdity upon the face of it. The second is plausible, and more
generally received. Yet it is not difficult to prove, that if man had
any remaining good in him, that is—towards God—he could not be the
creature he now is. There could not be that carelessness about his
eternal welfare, that deadness to spiritual things, which we perceive
in every individual whose heart has not been renewed by Divine grace.”
Thus she finds that the doctrine of man’s partial depravity involves
absurd consequences—conclusions wholly at variance with fact. The
utter helplessness of man she adduced with great clearness and power,
to prove that the work of grace is all of God. Then having proven her
statement by Scripture, she proceeds to exhibit in connection with it,
the perfect freeness of Divine grace. Miss Graham must not be
confounded with those exclusive writers who address the free
invitations of the gospel to the elect only. The freeness of Divine
mercy—not the secret decree of the Divine will—was the ground and
rule of her procedure.
On subjects of theological discussion she is as much at home as on the
great doctrines of the gospel. She thus concludes a discussion on the
consistency of conditional promises with free salvation: “The great
question then about the promises seems to be, not so much whether they
are conditional, as whether God looks to Christ, or us, for the
performance of those conditions. If to Christ, the burden is laid upon
one that is mighty: if to us, then we are undone: ‘for the condition of
man after the fall is such, that he cannot turn and prepare himself, by
his own natural strength and good works.’” This is strong and
uncompromising; yet it is neither unguarded, unscriptural, nor
discouraging. Her views of the personality of the Holy Spirit were
remarkably clear. She was accustomed, as her “Prayer before Study,”
plainly proves, to address Him in direct, and probably frequent
supplication. In reference to the deceitful and superficial arguments
of infidelity, she observes, “Let us disentangle the artful confusion
of words and ideas. Let us set apart each argument for separate and
minute scrutiny. Let us analyse the boasted reasonings of the infidel
philosophy. We shall find that they may be classed under two heads:
assertions which are true, but no way to the purpose; and assertions
which are to the purpose, but they are not true.” Her remarks upon the
millennium are interesting, but to attempt an analysis of these views,
is foreign to our purpose.
On the way of salvation, Miss Graham’s correspondence is highly
interesting and instructive. It is delightful to observe in all her
letters, not only extensive and accurate views of science and sound
theological opinions, but unostentatious piety, glowing love to the
Saviour, and a tender, earnest longing for the salvation of souls. No
service is more valuable to the sincere but intelligent inquirer, than
to enter into his case with tenderness and forbearance. In these
letters there are no vague and ill-defined directions—no deficiency of
spiritual understanding. They are rich in evangelical sentiment.
Pardoning grace is proclaimed to the guilty; melting and subduing grace
to the hard-hearted; and sanctifying grace to the unholy; grace to live
and grace to die.
_PRACTICAL RELIGION._
It is a truth endorsed by universal Christendom, that the more we are
disentangled from speculative inquiries, and occupied in the pursuit of
practical realities, the more settled will be our conviction of the
genuineness of the testimony, and our consequent enjoyment of its
privileges. Miss Graham was naturally open to the temptation of a
cavilling spirit. She was prone to begin with the speculative instead
of the practical truths of revelation, and to insist upon a solution of
its difficulties as a prerequisite to the acknowledgment of its
authority, and personal application of its truths. To this we trace her
painful, though temporary apostasy. The following passage, written
about two months before her death, gives an interesting view of her own
search after truth, and indicates a practical apprehension of the
gospel: “I am grieved that you should for a moment imagine that I think
our dear —— must be lost, because she does not subscribe to the
doctrines of Calvin. I do not so much as know what all Calvin’s
doctrines are, or whether I should subscribe to them myself. I have
read one book of Calvin’s, many parts of which pleased me much: I mean
his ‘Institutes,’ which Bishop Horsley says ought to be in every
clergyman’s library. Further than this I know nothing of Calvin or his
opinions. I certainly did not form one single opinion from his book,
for I had formed all my opinions long before from the Bible. You may
remember my telling you some years ago I declined greatly, almost
entirely (inwardly) from the ways of God, and in my breast was an
infidel, a disbeliever in the truths of the Bible. When the Lord
brought me out of that dreadful state, and established my faith in His
word, I determined to take that word _alone_ for my guide. I read
nothing else for between three and four months, and the Lord helped me
to pray over every word that I read. At that time, and from that
reading, all my religious opinions were formed, and I have not changed
one of them since. I knew nothing then of Calvin. I have said so much,
dear ——, because I think it a very wicked thing to do, as you seem to
think I do, to call Calvin or any man ‘master on earth,’ or to make any
human writer our guide in spiritual things.” Miss Graham’s religion
consisted in receiving the whole Bible without partiality or
gainsaying, loving God, and doing good to man.
_PROGRESS AND POWER._
The source of all progress and power to the child of God is union, an
abiding union with Jesus. Miss Graham felt this for years, and longed
for it as the one thing needful to satisfy the cravings of her own
soul, and increase her usefulness to others. The abiding graces of the
Christian life, faith,—hope, and charity—are also its abiding forces.
Christians should learn to live, as well as learn to die. The twofold
significance of the text, “The just shall live by faith,” struck deep
into the generous soil of her ardent heart and active mind. The just
shall be _made alive_ first, and _afterwards learn to live_ by faith.
The just shall be _justified before God first_, and afterwards learn
the way _to become just also in heart and life_ by faith. “If ye abide
in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it
shall be done unto you. Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear
much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples. As the Father hath loved me,
so have I loved you: continue ye in my love. If ye keep my
commandments, ye shall abide in my love: even as I have kept my
Father’s commandments, and abide in His love. These things have I
spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy
might be full.” Simply to abide in Jesus is the whole philosophy of
progress and power.
_CHARACTER OF MISS GRAHAM._
The biographer of Miss Graham, has been constrained to compensate for
the paucity of incident—furnished by her life, to introduce large
extracts from her writings and correspondence. From these extracts, and
a portrait taken four years before her death, we learn that her
physical constitution was rather too finely strung. Bred delicately in
a great city, shut up in a nursery in childhood, and in a school
through youth—never accustomed to air or exercise, her beauty faded
quickly, and she was cut off in the midst of life. To preserve health
it is not necessary to visit some distant clime, nor to do some great
thing, but simply to obey her laws.
A striking feature of her intellectual character, was a total
concentration of every power of thought and feeling in the object of
pursuit immediately before her. In youthful games she engaged with the
same ardour which she afterwards applied to languages and sciences.
Indeed, she followed Solomon’s advice in everything she undertook:
“Whatsoever thine hand findeth to do, do it with thy might!” It was
impossible to divert her mind from the object that was engaging her
attention to any other employment or recreation. To subjects of taste,
she brought a glow of feeling and imagination; matters of a graver
cast, are drawn out with the sober accuracy of a reflecting and
discriminating judgment.
One of our poets glowingly exclaims,—
“O Thou bleeding Lamb!
The true morality is love of Thee.”
Miss Graham’s love to her Saviour was one of her most prominent
characteristics. Those parts of Scripture that brought her into closer
contact with the subject nearest her heart. Every evening she devoted
an hour to intercessory prayer. She also set apart special times for
secret dedication and communion with God. The sacred book was her
constant food and study. Her love for the ordinances of God deserves
special remark. Messengers of the gospel she loved for their work’s
sake, and for their Master’s sake. “Pray before, as well as after your
visit” was her solemn entreaty to her own beloved minister.
“Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long,
And so make life, death, and that vast For-ever,
One grand, sweet song.”
_SECTION IV.—FIDELIA FISKE._
“In the structure and working of her whole nature, she seemed to me the
nearest approach I ever saw, in man or woman, to my ideal of our
blessed Saviour as He appeared on the earth.”
DR. ANDERSON.
_CHRISTIANITY AND HUMAN NATURE._
The peculiarities of Christianity form a most important and powerful
argument in favour at once of its truth and of its Divine origin. A
comparison of Christianity with other religions not only proclaims it
to be the only religion worthy of God and suitable for human nature;
but proclaims at the same time, and with equal power and effect, the
utter futility of the infidel maxim,—that all religions are alike. A
false religion, whether recorded in the pages of the Koran or the
Shaster, may contain many important truths; but the fact that it is a
_human_ instead of a _Divine_, a _false_ instead of a _true_ religion,
indelibly stamps it as unacceptable in the sight of Him who is “Holy in
all in His works;” and unadapted to meet the wants of sinful creatures.
There is only one religion in entire accord with all the phases,
aspects, and transitions of the human mind; and that is the religion of
the Bible. Christianity is adapted to you as an intellectual being—it
records a history—it reveals a theology—it unfolds a philosophy—it
affords scope for reasoning—it appeals to the imagination.
Christianity is in harmony with your moral nature. Truly and
beautifully has Sir Thomas Browne said, “There is no felicity in what
the world adores—that wherein God Himself is happy, the holy angels
are happy, and in whose defect the devils are unhappy—that dare I call
happiness.” Your character is entirely sinful and depraved.
Christianity presents to you the ideal of your original rectitude, and
would win you to the love of holiness, as a thing of beauty and
majesty. Christianity is adapted to you as an emotional being. The
facility in shedding tears at the remembrance of sin, or at the cross,
is no evidence of repentance; joy in the belief that sins are forgiven
is no proof of conversion. Yet weeping is a mighty thing. Our Saviour
never fell into sentimentalism or affectation, but His great soul ran
over His eyes when on earth; and it would do the same if He dwelt with
us now. Christianity excites the deepest emotion, and wakes up all the
tumultuous feelings of the soul. Christianity is in harmony with your
social nature. It takes your state under its auspices; and its tendency
is, by its laws and influences, directly or indirectly, to etherealize
the affections of the family, to ennoble the love of country, and to
inflame all the enthusiasms which point to the good and glory of the
race. Christianity is adapted to you as a suffering being. Trials are
ill to bear. They are not “joyous, but grievous.” Yet he who believes
that all things work together for good, will thank God for medicine as
well as for food; and for the winter that kills the weeds, as well as
for the summer that ripens the fields. Christianity is in harmony with
your immortal nature. You are full of “thoughts that wander through
eternity;” and Christianity establishes the truth of a future
state—secures its glory—prepares for its enjoyment. It makes the hope
of heaven a guiding principle in life, adapting its disclosures and
descriptions of the future inheritance to the varied circumstances of
the present. What a religion this!—it is the power of God, and the
wisdom of God. “How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?”
_BIOGRAPHY._
Fidelia Fiske was born on the 1st May, 1816, at Shelburne; a decayed
town in Nova Scotia. Her father, a man of noble form, benignant face,
and saintly character, who lived to the patriarchal age of ninety-two;
was descended of ancestors who had emigrated from England to America.
Her mother was a woman of great activity and equability; a native of
Taunton, Massachusetts. This colony took its name from the circumstance
that it was founded by a number of Christian men and women, who went
forth from St. Mary Magdalene church, Taunton, Somerset, in the days of
Archbishop Laud. The home of her childhood was a plain one-storey
farmhouse, the large family room of which served as kitchen, nursery,
dining and sitting room. In that mountain-home life was quiet and
simple, yet by no means dull and monotonous. Around the blazing fire
the little circle gathered every evening, while sewing, knitting,
reading, and story-telling filled up the swift hours; till at length
the great Bible was brought forth, a chapter read, and a fervent prayer
offered. At early dawn they renewed their peaceful pursuits, amid the
ceaseless and ever-varying voices of nature. As a child, Fidelia was
unusually thoughtful and observing. She always weighed consequences,
and nothing could escape her notice.
When about four years of age, she began to attend the district school
near her father’s house. Here for some ten or twelve years she pursued
the studies usually taught in country schools. Though by no means a
prodigy, she had next to no labour in acquiring the art of reading; and
easily outstripped others of the same age, and won the place of honour
in her class. On the 12th of July, 1831, Fidelia made a public
profession of her faith in Christ, and became a member of the
Congregational church at Shelburne. In 1839, Miss Fiske entered the
middle class in Mount Holyoke seminary. This institution enjoyed a high
reputation for its educational and religious tone. Miss Lyon, who
presided over it, was a most gifted, fascinating, and holy woman. Early
impressed by religious truth, Fidelia here found herself in a
thoroughly congenial element. The diligence and thoroughness of study
required suited her mental habits; while the prominence given to
religious instruction and religious duties met the wants of her
rapidly-developing religious life. As might have been expected, she
soon formed an attachment for Miss Lyon, which was reciprocated, and
which time only intensified. At the close of her first year, a
malignant form of typhoid fever appeared in the academy. Miss Fiske
returned home to her parents. Two days after, she was seized with the
disorder, and for many days lay at the gate of death. During that
season of sickness she learned, for the first time, the real feelings
of the sick and dying, and how to care for them. Nor were these the
only lessons she learnt. The malady passed from her to her father, who
went through the gate that seemed to have opened for his daughter. Her
younger sister also, who had been converted in answer to her prayers,
followed her father into the land of the immortals. The autumn of the
following year found her again at Mount Holyoke, a member of the senior
class. After graduating, she became a teacher. Although high culture
marked in a distinguishing degree this seminary, it was unlike many of
the schools in England for ladies, where the tinsel of accomplishments
is preferred to the ennobling influence of piety.
We have now reached the great crisis in her history. At the meeting of
the American Board at Norwich, Connecticut, in the autumn of 1842, Miss
Lyon was very anxious that her seminary should be more thoroughly
pervaded with the missionary spirit. Calling a meeting of such as were
present, she told them that the institution had been founded to advance
the missionary cause, and that she “sometimes felt that its walls had
been built from the funds of missionary boards.” Miss Fiske little knew
how much that meeting would cost her. While she and others were
earnestly pleading for the heathen, the Lord’s messenger was
approaching her with a call to become a missionary herself. Dr. Perkins
came to Mount Holyoke, and made a request for a young lady to go with
him to Persia. Miss Fiske sent a note to him with these brief words,
“If counted worthy, I should be willing to go.” On her decision
becoming known at the seminary, Miss Lyon said, “If such are your
feelings, we will go and see your mother and sisters;” and in an hour
they were on their way. A thirty miles’ ride, on a cold wintry
Saturday, through snow-drifts in which they were several times upset,
brought them to the Shelburne hills. The family were aroused from their
slumbers to receive unexpected guests, and to hold an unexpected
consultation. Prayers and tears mingled with the solemn and tender
discussions of the hour. Before the Sabbath closed, her mother was
enabled cheerfully to say, “_Go, my child, go_.” Other friends could
not withhold their consent, and the great question was definitely
decided.
On Wednesday, March 1st, 1843, Miss Fiske, with others destined for the
same general field, embarked on board the _Emma Isadora_. At half-past
four o’clock p.m. the barque left her wharf, and moving down the
harbour was soon out of sight. The voyage was pleasant. A storm
overtook them, but no fear disturbed Miss Fiske; despite the anxious
countenance of the captain, and the need for vigilance on the part of
the crew, she writes: “I look out from my cabin window to trace a
Father’s hand in this wild commotion.” She did not wait until she
arrived in Persia, but began her ministry of love by taking under her
special care the young daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Perkins, guiding her
studies and leading her to the Saviour. On the 8th of April, the ship
anchored before Smyrna. After a week’s rest the Austrian steamer left,
and in thirty-eight hours reached Constantinople. The perils and
hardships of the sea were past, but seven or eight hundred miles still
lay between our missionary friends and their Persian home. However,
under the skilful guidance of Dr. Perkins, they passed safely to
Urumiyah, their destined field of labour.
According to English gazetteers, Urumiyah is a walled town, and
contains upwards of 20,000 inhabitants, of whom about 10,000 are
Nestorians, 2000 Jews, and the rest Mohammedans. It claims to be the
birthplace of Zoroaster, and in the vicinity are several mounds
supposed to be the hills of the ancient fire-worshippers. The
Nestorians derive their name from Nestorius, a heretic of the fifth
century, who taught that Christ was divided into two persons. Nestorius
acquired so much distinction by his learning, pulpit eloquence, and
purity of life, that, in 428, he was elevated to the patriarchate of
Constantinople. But fourteen centuries had wrought terrible degradation
in Persia. There was little of Christianity, except the name, when the
American Board of Commissioners established a mission and educational
agency in 1834. The language of the Nestorians contained no words
corresponding to home and wife, the nearest approach to them being
house and woman. To a person of refinement and delicacy, like Miss
Fiske, it must have been shocking to see women treated by men as
drudges and slaves: wives beaten often and severely by their husband;
yea, a whole village of these coarse and passionate creatures engaged
in a quarrel among themselves, their hair all loose and flying in the
wind. Miss Fiske’s chief solicitudes were given to the educational
agency. By great tact she effected considerable reformation in the
schools, and corrected the prevalent habits of lying and stealing among
her pupils. She also found time to visit the Nestorian women, to pray
with them, and read the Scriptures. In 1844, her labours and plans were
suddenly interrupted by a storm of persecution which burst upon the
mission. When the missionaries had most reason to fear expulsion, Miss
Fiske thus wrote:—“I knew not before that my affections had become so
closely entwined around this poor people, nor how severely I should
feel a removal from them.” In the providence of God their enemies were
thwarted; and they were permitted to remain and go on with their work,
though not without great opposition. Towards the end of the year, Miss
Fiske resumed her duties. How hard she laboured; with what holy fire
her bosom burned; how earnestly she longed for a brighter day to dawn
on the wretched Persian women; with what success she enforced upon
mothers as well as pupils their relative duties; how brilliantly she
illustrated the text, “Dying, and behold we live; unknown, and yet well
known; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, yet possessing all
things”! In 1849, the first public examination of the school was held,
and about two hundred guests listened with unabated interest to the
exercises till the sun went down. The pupils were examined in ancient
and modern Syriac, Bible history, geography, and natural philosophy.
The following year opened upon them in a new, large, and convenient
building. In the autumn of 1856, the Persian government again tried to
break up the educational agency. Askar Khan visited the seminary, and
explored every part of it. He questioned one of the girls who could
speak Turkish, but was baffled by the discreet replies of the pupil;
yet in a decided manner he condemned female education, and told the
girls that their former condition was the only proper one for them.
When we think of the physical labour, the mental effort, the practical
wisdom, the ready discernment of character, the unconquerable
perseverance, and the devoted piety necessary for discharging the
functions of a female missionary; we do not wonder that sixteen years
produced a wearing and exhausting effect upon Miss Fiske’s health. The
time had come when change was imperatively demanded; and as Dr. Perkins
and Mrs. Stoddard were expecting to leave for America the following
summer, it was decided that she should accompany them. During the
intervening months she received ample evidence of the permanency of the
work of grace that had been wrought in the land of her adoption. On the
morning of her departure, about seventy former pupils gathered about
her, and asked the privilege of one more prayer—meeting with her in
her room, “the little Bethel,” as they called it. Six prayers were
offered, all tender and comforting—one particularly so; and this one
she had frequent occasion to remember in the course of her long
journey, and always felt comforted and encouraged by it.
The population of Nova Scotia is now chiefly composed of a native race,
sprung directly or indirectly from the three great families of the
United Kingdom. They are situated on the confines of a frozen ocean,
but their hearts are not chilled, nor their friendships blunted by its
influence. Miss Fiske soon recognised many in the group which
surrounded her at the old sanctuary on the first Sunday after her
return. During 1860, she visited Boston, to say farewell to a band of
missionaries destined for the Nestorian field. Although glad that
labourers were being sent forth, she could not repress a pang of regret
that she could not go with them. Most extensive and blessed was the
work she carried on during her sojourn in America; but amid it all the
noble woman turned her face to the East and longed to be among the
daughters of Persia. Feebler and fainter, however, became that hope;
and soon it was certain that no journey but that to the “beautiful
land” lay before Miss Fiske.
For six weeks she was confined almost entirely to her bed. She was
able, however, to write many letters of counsel and comfort. One
written May 26th, 1864, and addressed to Dr. Wright, on his leaving
America for Persia, indicated her never-failing interest in the work to
which she had consecrated the best years of her life. The disease,
which at first was supposed to be cancerous, proved to be a general
inflammation of the lymphatic vessels. For two or three nights she was
obliged to remain in a sitting posture. Her last loving message to the
teachers and pupils of Mount Holyoke, closed with the words, “_Live for
Christ_; in so doing we shall be blessed in time and in eternity.” On
the Sabbath morning she asked to have a number of the tracts entitled
“Immanuel’s Land” laid upon her table, so that every person visiting
her might carry away one. The Rev. E. Y. Swift called to see her on
Tuesday, July 26th. She held out her hand to welcome him, and feebly
said, “Will you pray.” These were her last words. As the prayer
ascended, her spirit was caught up to learn the strains of the
everlasting song of praise.
Not in the land of the Persian, but in her native country—the soil
from which spring the children of freedom, the hearts of honesty, and
the arms of bravery—was the body let down to the grave, in the full
assurance that the soul was in heaven. At the funeral, one who knew her
well, said: “God sent her to benighted Persia, that those poor people
might have there an image of Jesus, and learn what He was like; not by
cold theories, but by a living example. He brought her back to us, that
we might see what sanctified human nature can become, and might gain a
new view of the power of His grace.” Some old grey heads, more becoming
grey, and many bright in manhood and womanhood, breathed the prayer:—
“Then farewell, pure spirit! and oh that on all
Thy mantle of love and devotion might fall!
Like thee may we toil, that with thee we may rest,
With our Saviour above, in the home of the blest!”
_SECOND AND BETTER BIRTH._
Miss Fiske could neither remember the time when she was unimpressed by
religious truth, nor the precise period at which she was born again. To
her father she was indebted for that remarkable acquaintance with the
Bible, which often surprised and delighted her friends. Fond of general
reading, he took a special pleasure in consulting the lively oracles.
He honoured the Bible in the family. When his children manifested a
distaste for their lessons in the catechism, he permitted them to
substitute the inspired for the uninspired word. He believed that it
was quite as safe to drink at the fountain-head as at the stream. When
thirteen years of age, her Sabbath-school teacher—a daughter of her
pastor—one day faithfully addressed her class on the subject of
personal religion. That night Fidelia lay on her bed wakeful and
tearful. At length her anxiety became too great to be concealed. Her
mother suspecting the true state of the case, and alluding to the fact
that something seemed to be troubling her, one day kindly said, “What
is it, my child?” The full heart instantly overflowed with the long
pent-up feeling, as she answered, “Mother, I am a lost sinner.” She had
a wise counsellor, who led her to look well into the grounds of her
hope; and the result was a Christian profession, not only free from
palpable defect, but unusually enriched with the fruits of the Spirit.
When an infant leaves the womb, although the same, it may be said to be
a new creature. Now, just because the change wrought on the soul in
conversion is also great, it is called a birth. That is the first; this
is the second, and better birth. Better! because in that a daughter of
man is born but for the grave; whereas in this a daughter of God is
born for glory.
_JUVENILE HABIT OF DOING GOOD._
She soon began to take a deep and active interest in the spiritual
welfare of others. Her heart went forth most tenderly towards the poor
of Christ’s flock, amongst whom she spent a large portion of her time,
seeking not only to comfort them, but to improve her own piety by
listening to their simple records of Divine goodness. She loved the
Lord’s poor intensely; and could not bear to hear their infirmities too
freely animadverted upon. She delighted unbidden to soothe the sorrows
of those who were in distress, no matter how bad their previous conduct
may have been. To activity in her kind offices she joined perseverance.
Her charity was an evergreen, preserving its verdure at all seasons.
The Sabbath-school was to her a most congenial sphere of usefulness,
and to its labours she gave herself with full purpose of heart. She had
a high idea of the importance of this work; spent much time in
preparation for her class; and was an example of punctuality,
regularity, kindness, and devotion. Her interest in her pupils was not
confined to the hour spent with them on the Sabbath. She sought, in
various ways, to win them to Christ, often calling the pen to her aid.
Verily she believed that the whole Church was formed of individual
members, and the whole tide of Christian exertion made up of single
acts; just as the ocean is formed of drops, the globe of particles, and
the nocturnal glory of single stars. Her sentiments were in harmony
with the following inspiring verses:—
“Go up and watch the new-born rill,
Just bursting from its mossy bed;
Streaking the heath-clad hill,
With a bright emerald thread.
Canst thou its bold career foretell,
What rock it may o’erleap or rend;
How far in ocean swell,
Its freshening billows send?
Perchance that little rill may flow
The bulwark of some mighty realm—
Bear navies to and fro,
With monarchs at their helm.
A pebble in the streamlet scant,
Has turned the course of many a river;
A dew-drop on the tiny plant,
May warp the giant oak for ever.”
_MISSIONARY LIFE._
Miss Fiske had the spirit of a missionary, before she had the most
distant conception of ever being engaged in the work. Her missionary
life would not suffer by comparison with that of the most devoted
agents who ever entered the field. At Seir, the Lord gave her an
earnest of the blessing He was about to bestow on her self-renouncing
labours in Persia. When the intelligence was received by her of sixty
young ladies who were unconverted at the time she left Mount Holyoke,
and all but six of whom were now rejoicing in hope, she burst into a
flood of grateful tears.
When the American missionaries went to Persia, there was but a single
Nestorian female who could read. She was Helena, the sister of the
Patriarch, whose superior rank secured her this accomplishment. The
rest were not only ignorant, but content to remain so. In addition to
this, the poor Nestorians groaned under the bondage of a Mohammedan
yoke, whose rule was capricious and tyrannical. In entering on her
missionary duties, Miss Fiske writes: “Soon after our arrival, one of
the elder members of our circle remarked that he did not know of five
in the whole Nestorian nation whom he could look upon as true
Christians.” The female seminary, which has done so much for the
social, intellectual, and spiritual improvement of woman in Persia,
was, during the first five years of its existence, simply a day-school:
the pupils boarding at home, and spending only a few hours daily with
their teachers in the school-room. From the first, she was very
desirous of changing the character of the school, making it a
boarding-school, in which pupils might remain several years, and be
under the exclusive care and training of the teachers. The very idea of
such a school was so repugnant to all the hereditary views of social
propriety among the Nestorians, as to seem almost chimerical. Most of
the girls were betrothed before they were twelve years of age; and the
parents were afraid to give up those who were not, lest they should
lose some favourable opportunity of marriage. They were also
apprehensive that if their daughters were put to a boarding-school,
they would not be able to carry heavy burdens, nor wield the spade so
successfully as their companions who had never learned to read. But
notwithstanding these difficulties, Miss Fiske succeeded in
establishing a flourishing school conformed to her own ideal.
Her efforts to interest the women in the Bible were sometimes amusing.
After reading the history of the creation, she asked, “Who was the
first man?” They answered, “What do we know? we are women.” Then she
told them that Adam was the first man, and made them repeat the name
till they remembered it. The next question was, “What does it mean?”
Here too they could give no answer; but were delighted to find that the
first man was called _red earth_, because he was made of it. This was
enough for one lesson. It woke up faculties previously dormant. She was
not content with the few women who came to receive religious
instruction at the seminary; but visited them at their homes, going
from house to house, where filth and vermin would have repelled any
woman of refinement whose heart did not glow with love to Christ, and
love to perishing souls for whom He died.
_RESULT OF A CONSECRATED LIFE._
The great study of Miss Fiske was to be Christ-like. She lived but for
one object—the glory of the Redeemer in connection with the salvation
of immortal souls. Hence, she carried with her a kind of hallowing
influence into every company into which she entered; and her friends
were accustomed to feel as if all were well when their measures met
with the sanction and approval of the young missionary. In January,
1846, the work of the Holy Spirit became deep and general. The first
Monday of the new year was observed by the mission as a day of fasting
and prayer. “We had spoken,” writes Miss Fiske, “of passing that day in
wrestling for souls. But we had only begun to _seek_, not to _wrestle_,
when we learned that souls were pleading for themselves.” The
intellects of the girls seemed greatly quickened by the grace in their
hearts; thus illustrating the power of the gospel, to elevate and
improve the whole character and life. The conversion of Deacon
Gewergis, one of the vilest of the Nestorians; and his subsequent
devotion to Christ, is too beautiful and of too profound significance
to be omitted. After much faithful and affectionate conversation, Miss
Fiske said to him, “When we stand at the bar of God, and when you are
found on the _left hand_, as you certainly will be if you go on in your
present course, promise me that you will tell the assembled universe
that, on this 22nd day of February, 1846, you were told your danger.”
She could say no more; her heart was full. He burst into tears, and
said, “My sister, I need this salvation.” On the 12th March, 1856, he
died in the Lord. The year 1849 witnessed one of the most interesting
and extensive revivals that ever occurred in connection with the
Nestorian mission. All the girls in the female seminary over twelve
years of age, were hopefully converted, and many of them were, from
that time, bright and shining lights in that dark land. The secret of
these conversions may surely be said to be the spirit of entire
dependence upon God. The imagination was not appealed to by terrors.
There were no dramatic scenes to awaken fear. There was no mere got-up
excitement. It was as if flowers that had been in darkness were
persuaded to crave the blessed sunlight.
_CHARACTER OF MISS FISKE._
Some of our great writers portray the physique of their heroes and
heroines so minutely that they start into life before our eyes. Height,
size, complexion, conformation of features, to a gauntlet or ribbon,
all are on the graphic page. But the excellent memoir recently
published in England, gives us no account of the _personnel_ of Fidelia
Fiske. Judging from her portrait, she was about the middle size, finely
formed features, rather delicate, loving eye, mild face, naturally
diffident, yet cheerful, trustful, and hopeful.
She was a singularly gifted woman, and could accomplish with
comparative ease what would be quite impracticable, or very difficult,
to others. There was the quick comprehension, and the executive tact,
which hardly ever made a failure, or put forth an inefficient effort.
Every stroke and every touch from her always told in every undertaking.
There was not the slightest bluster nor pretension about her. So quiet
and unostentatious were her movements, that they would not have been
observed, but for their marvellous results. If endowed with genius; it
was unaccompanied by eccentricity or folly.
We need scarcely add that she was a noble specimen of true
Christian womanhood. With the testimony of Dr. Kirk, the eminent
Congregationalist minister of Boston, we close our pleasant task.
“I wish to speak carefully; but I am sure I can say I never saw one
who came nearer to Jesus in self-sacrifice. If ever there should be
an extension of the eleventh chapter of Hebrews, I think the name
of Fidelia Fiske would stand there. That is a list of those who
either had remarkable faith, or who suffered for the truth. She was
a martyr. She made the greatest sacrifice. _She had given up her
will_; and when you have done that, the rest is easy. To burn at
the stake for awhile, to be torn on the rack, to be devoured by
wild beasts, is as nothing when you have torn out your own will,
and laid it upon God’s altar.”