_MOUNT ALYN: HOME LIFE._
The intensity of the life, lived by Mr. Balfour in Liverpool, could not
fail to put his mental and physical energies under severe strain. We
have sometimes found that a walk with him, through the streets of the
city, gave curious evidence of the richness of his nature and the
manifoldness of his interests. Meeting a benevolent shipowner, he would
descant upon the claims and excellences of the Seamen’s Orphanage, as
though the orphans were the great object for which he lived; meeting a
town-councillor, he would open fire upon some abuse that he was
endeavouring to expose and explode, with an energy that was at times
tremendous; meeting a citizen on his return from the noon
prayer-meeting, he would utter fervent thanksgiving to God that all that
was being attempted for the good of Liverpool was guarded and blessed by
the prayers of the Lord’s people, and would pour out his soul on the
need of heavenly help as the basis of all successful endeavour; meeting
another whose heart was towards Temperance reform, he would rush into
the heart of that subject, descanting on corner-men and corner-houses,
and magisterial duties and licensing boards elected _ad hoc_, with a
zeal and emphasis that might have made one suppose that he thought by
day and dreamt by night of nothing else. Each man he met might have come
to the same conclusion, and have gone away with zeal kindled anew on his
own subject. Under the witchery of his blue “glittering eye,” like
Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner, he held each fast till he had delivered his
soul. We have gone home from such a walk, with the conviction that torch
after torch had been lighted or rekindled, by the fire of that intense
nature. All causes were his that worked for the good of his beloved
city; all who worked for any of these causes were his friends. And from
the warmth of his gratitude to any one who was manfully struggling to
right a wrong or to minister to the public well-being, one would have
supposed that a personal obligation had been conferred on him, as well
as a benefit secured for the community.
It was a blessed but an exhausting life to him. The sun is ever giving
out his rays without perceptible diminution of his heat and light; but
with us it is not so. Mr. Balfour began to feel a desire to combine the
repose of the country with the activity of the town. He thought he might
thus husband his strength, for more effective use among the busy scenes
he loved so well.
In 1869 an opportunity occurred for purchasing a retreat such as he
desired. The beauty of the scenery around Mount Alyn and its
accessibility to Liverpool were great attractions to him. It lies among
the hills of Denbighshire, a few miles beyond Chester. The house is
commodious and convenient but unpretentious. It stands on a wooded
slope, with an ample park before it, clothed with splendid old trees,
and skirted at the bottom by the pretty little River Alyn, on its way to
mingle with the waters of the Dee. The terraced walks around the house
command a lovely view of the immediate valley, marked on the opposite
side by the abrupt bank known as “The Roft,” while beyond opens the rich
and fertile Vale Royal, with the towers of old Chester rising grandly in
the distance.
It is a choice spot, and was from this time to be the home of the
Balfour family. Mr. Balfour was somewhat jealous over himself about the
acquisition of this beautiful property. This state of mind is indicated
by a conversation between him and his friend Mr. John Fair, whom he
invited to go over it with him, after its purchase, but before its
occupation. Mr. Fair spoke of the loveliness of the spot, and said he
supposed, after so many years of hard work, he would retire from the
cares of business and the bustle of Liverpool, and enjoy the pleasures
of a country-gentleman’s life. “I shall never forget,” says Mr. Fair,
“the serious, almost solemn way in which he replied to my remark, to the
effect that were there any chance, from his having selected this
beautiful place for his home, of its drawing him away from Liverpool,
and the work in which he was engaged in behalf of that city, he would
part with it at once without a pang.”
It was with him a constant subject of regret, not to say indignation,
sometimes expressed in language more plain than pleasant, that many who
made their fortunes in Liverpool spent them elsewhere, retiring to a
distance, and doing perhaps little or nothing for the community to which
they owed so much. With him this was impossible. He loved Liverpool with
a singular earnestness and unchangeableness of affection. It sometimes
struck his friends that his love for it resembled a larger family
affection. He was irresistibly drawn to any one, rich or poor, who was
honestly endeavouring to benefit his city in its material, but
especially in its moral and spiritual interests; and upon any one who,
he thought, might render useful service in this work, he did not fail to
exert the strange magnetic influence of his mind and eye, as, with
bending figure and taper fingers outstretched, he urged his plea with
the earnest knightly grace which has left its unique and indelible
picture stamped on the memory of those who witnessed it.
Liverpool was graven on his heart. One was reminded of the Psalmist’s
love for the Holy City when he sang, “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let
my right hand forget her cunning.” And so it came that the removal of
his residence to North Wales led to no slackening of his efforts in
behalf of his beloved city; if possible, the reverse. His hope was, by
economy of strength, to have it more in his power to help its people.
Often might he be found, in the early morning before breakfast, in his
quiet library, conducting varied correspondence, or drafting memorials
or resolutions for the benefit of a wide circle, of which, for him,
Liverpool was the centre of intensity and impulse. The bent of his
thoughts made itself apparent when, after such early occupation, his
family gathered around the family altar. When, with a loved child upon
his knee, he had read a portion of God’s Word with the emphatic
realism, and the absorbed and startling pauses, which marked his
utterance, he bowed his knee in prayer, there followed, oftentimes, a
flood of pleading, plaintive supplication for “that great community;”
for the sinning and the sorrowing; for those that suffered wrong and
those that did the wrong; and for all who loved and sought the welfare
of the people. All was confided to his God. And so, with both hands
filled with busy practical work, his waiting eyes were ever toward God.
Then the almost daily journey to Liverpool was undertaken, not without
occasional misgivings about the length of time consumed, morning and
evening, on the way. Then followed the rapid round of varying interests.
It was his joy that, allied with able partners and assistants, the
details of business did not now demand much of his time or energy. The
welfare of Liverpool was his engrossing business. His day’s work done,
he returned to his peaceful nook, with surroundings as soothing and
refreshing as heart could desire.
As he was falling into the habits involved in his residing in Wales, a
struggle arose in his mind. Was he justified in so far leaving
Liverpool? It seemed to him for a time like “deserting his post.” “My
main work,” he wrote at this time, “I more and more see, is to attend to
spiritual and benevolent enterprises in Liverpool.” Temporary losses in
business gave emphasis to his difficulties. His doubt about the path of
duty was grave and embarrassing: he was prepared, if God so guided him,
to leave his lovely home and return to the city, where, most of all, his
duties and his affections lay. The struggle was severe, but in the end
he resolved to abide by the choice he had made.
Though his life’s passion was the improvement and elevation of
Liverpool, the closer, quieter circle about him at Mount Alyn now
claimed and received its share in his thoughts and plans. It was his
delight to make every one happy around him, children, servants,
farm-labourers, and all others. It was sometimes remarked that the
governesses at Mount Alyn had “a good time.” They were treated like
members of the family. The servants, too, received all kindly
consideration, and, for the most part, rewarded the kindness and
confidence reposed in them, by fidelity and genuine attachment to the
family. Very soon a “Cocoa Room” was established in the neighbouring
village of Rossett, and various schemes were started to encourage
sobriety, industry, and thrift.
Mr. Balfour struck one, as rather grudging himself the enjoyment of so
much beauty and ease, while others were not so favoured. One pleasure,
however, seemed for him to have no alloy. It was that of sharing his
advantages with others. One bright summer day, a relative sat beside him
in the open air at Mount Alyn. As their eyes ranged over the lovely
glades and woodlands which stretched before them, she exclaimed, “This
place is just an earthly Paradise.” “Ah! yes,” he answered with a sigh,
“if only the crowd of toilers in Liverpool could enjoy it too. But there
are many shut out from such things.” He had a strange power of making
the interests of multitudes his own.
Soon after he was settled in Mount Alyn, he was busy with plans for
securing, to as many as possible of the faithful workers in the city,
some share in the enjoyment of the beauty and repose of his own rural
home.
There were certain cottages on the property which he set apart for tired
toilers of the town. Fresh adjustments and alterations, involving
considerable outlay, fitted them admirably for the purpose to which they
were devoted. City missionaries have an arduous and trying duty to
discharge. They have to visit the poorest and the foulest homes in times
of health, and especially of sickness. They have to encounter, among
others, the drunken, the dissolute, the godless. It is not matter of
surprise, if they sometimes become not only weary in body but jaded in
spirit. For such, a temporary resting-place was prepared at Mount Alyn.
A succession of them was to be found there, staying for two or three
weeks at a time. We have often, when visiting Mount Alyn, looked in upon
these good men, who, with their families, were enjoying the luxury of
pure country air and lovely scenery, with verdure and flowers all about
their doors. It did one’s heart good to see the benefit they derived and
the happiness they enjoyed. From these peaceful retreats they returned
often with lighter hearts, and refreshed for a new stretch of difficult
yet blessed work.
During summer, there was often high festival in the broad field above
the house. Teachers and pupil-teachers from the city were there in
scores. Games were organised, explorations were made among the woods. A
large tent was spread under shadow of the trees that bordered the field;
and there successive parties were liberally regaled, while words of
welcome were spoken by the generous host, and words of encouragement and
counsel by ministers and others who were invited to meet the visitors.
Members of the Young Men’s Christian Association and groups of various
kinds from the city found welcome and refreshment there. To sweeten a
little the lives of such was one of the chief joys of Mr. Balfour’s
life. The way was made easy for all the guests; railway tickets were
provided as well as hospitality on the spot. It was scarcely possible,
on such occasions, to leave the beautiful scene and to watch the beaming
countenance of the kind host, as with wife and children by his side he
waved his farewells, without the atmosphere breathed becoming more
balmy, and the ills of life appearing less dark than before.
The impressions produced on the mind of a discriminating friend, who had
comparatively little opportunity of seeing Mr. Balfour, will further
illustrate his bearing at Mount Alyn and elsewhere.
“There was something so individual, joyous, simple, inspiring in Mr.
Balfour’s manner and tone, that it is impossible to give an adequate
impression of ‘the magic he used’ over one: the most self-less of
magicians, who, when he came to us, made life seem better worth living,
and heartened each stumbler to step out more cheerfully and pluckily on
the road before him. Words do not represent him, for one misses the
intense accent of conviction, the simplicity of a child, the manly
directness of all that he said. I recall a sunny afternoon at Mount
Alyn, when I sat with a friend in the park, where four hundred
elementary school teachers were being royally entertained, the host
radiant amongst them all. I recall some grave talk with Mr. Christopher
Bushell, about the problems of life and the struggle against evil. The
host came gaily up. ‘You two look grave!’ ‘We are talking about
difficult things;’ and then learning what turn the conversation had
taken, gently, firmly, simply he said, ‘There is no end to those
questions; I get no further; I do not understand them. God has given me
a little bit of work to do for Him; I try to do it; _that_ I
understand.’ And how he did his ‘work!’
“Late one winter day, my daughter and I were on Mr. Balfour’s door-step
just as he and a friend were going out; we proposed to come another day,
but Mr. Balfour would not hear of it. ‘No, on no account; we cannot let
you off; we must take the chance now;’ and then suddenly, with a burst
of eagerness and conviction that penetrated, ‘Don’t you know there is no
wealth but in the love _we give_ and the love we receive? Friendship is
the greatest gift we have amongst us.’ As we came away, we wondered if
he was conscious how nearly he was reproducing Carlyle’s words in ‘Past
and Present,’ ‘The wealth of a man is the number of things which he
loves and blesses, which he is loved and blessed by!’
“A month or so later, sitting at dinner in the midst of a gay company,
(he was always at home in innocent gaiety), the talk turned on Dante’s
great words, ‘In la sua volontade è la nostra pace,’ and again, with
that eager conviction which he never lost, he exclaimed, ‘That is the
secret of all true life.’ If I were asked some of the special
characteristics of the friend whose influence still seems to brighten
life, I should say his joy in giving joy to others, in bettering the
condition, bodily and mental, of every one, of every community he was
brought in contact with, and his making religion beautiful even to those
who think they dislike religious people.’”
When friends visited Mr. Balfour, he sometimes invited them to examine
one field in which he took great delight. He had found it sour and
sullen, producing nothing but rushes and coarse grass. He thoroughly
drained it, and made it one of the most fertile of all his fields. As we
stood with other friends among its teeming furrows, we have heard him
take up his parable concerning it with an earnestness which left its
impress on all hearers. “The water,” he would say, “which is held in the
miserly soil, brings a curse and not a blessing. But if, when it falls
from heaven, it is made to pass on to enrich other places, it leaves the
brightest fertility behind. Just so it is with riches. Hoarded wealth,
like hoarded water, sours and sickens the narrow soul that hoards it.
But if wealth, when it flows in, is distributed through useful channels,
it is blessed in the having and blessed in the giving.” Such a parable,
spoken on such a spot by such a man, was not likely to be without its
good results. One powerful principle, in the regulation of his own life,
was thus set forth before his friends. It was not the possession, but
the use, of wealth that made him happy.
This principle guided him and Mrs. Balfour in small as well as in great
things. His gardens and his greenhouses poured forth their lavish
products wherever it was thought they were most needed or would bring
most cheer. Among the sick and the suffering, the widowed and the
wearied, many a languid eye has been made to sparkle with pleasure, when
the well-filled basket has brought its message, not more of beauty and
fragrance, than of the thoughtful love that lay behind. We recall an
occasion on which Mr. Balfour walked up with us from the railway station
to the house. It was a mellow autumn evening, and as we passed under the
bending boughs of some damson trees, we remarked how good was the
promise of fruit. “Splendid!” he replied, “splendid! We must get a
barrel of sugar and make jam for the Seamen’s Orphans!” Just like
himself. His mind was full of little plans of kindness as well as great
schemes of philanthropy.
His farmyard was put under contribution for the benefit of his friends.
When Christmas approached, turkeys and geese were despatched right and
left, as gifts. It sometimes happened that this process was carried to
such an extent, that it was necessary to go to market, for a Christmas
turkey for the Mount Alyn family. To him the dainties of the table did
not count for much. Mrs. Balfour says, “I cannot remember his ever
remarking that any of the food at table was not good, or not well
cooked. But if there were delicacies presented, he would often regret
that others were not there to share them.”
Mr. Balfour’s love for children was great. Their simple ways found a
quick response in his heart. He was ready, when he could, to take part
in the games of the young, and found his joy in their enjoyment. He
derived the purest pleasure from his own children. It was the delight of
the little nursery party to go out with their father, to gather flowers
for their mother or for visitors under their roof. He was full of fun
and gladness when he started his children on their ponies, and taught
them how to guide and manage the little steeds.
But children bring with them care and sorrow, as well as joy. On the
13th of August 1870 occurs this brief but touching memorandum in his
note-book:--“My wife gave birth to a baby boy. Let it be our extreme
desire to train him up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and to
render back to Him with our whole hearts, the precious gift He has
committed to our care.” It did please God, five and a half years
afterwards, to remove from earth this, his eldest son, Alister. The
sorrow of the parents was deep, but their hearts were resigned. Mr.
Balfour would not have strangers bear the little coffin to its
quiet resting-place in Rossett Churchyard. Two of his own
friends--ministers--were asked by him to do this latest task of love for
his dear child. The boy was singularly winsome and lovely, but was
unmurmuringly “rendered back” at the call of Him who had given him.
The minute thoughtfulness, which Mr. Balfour displayed for young and
old, was such as often to astonish those who knew him best. His mind
might appear brimful of some public enterprise, when he would suddenly
begin to make inquiries, which showed that the most invisible concerns
of those he loved concerned him. He seemed to forget nothing of that
kind. We have often known him, when hurrying off to an important meeting
that demanded concentrated thought and interest, leave behind him some
discriminating message of kindness for one in need of it, or some gift
curiously adapted to the unexpressed but conjectured wish of a child or
a youth. The great movements of heart and mind did not seem to
obliterate the most delicate traces that affection had stamped upon a
sensitive nature.
... “All other joys go less
To the one joy of doing kindnesses.”
Mount Alyn House was simply though tastefully furnished. Mr. Balfour
seemed to find it more difficult to spend money upon himself than upon
others. On his acquisition of the property and afterwards, various
additions to the house had to be built, and improvements carried out, in
the grounds. On these occasions his horror of extravagance and
ostentation was conspicuous. His friends could not but be amused at the
contrast between his grudging allowance to himself of any little luxury,
and his lavish liberality in purchasing gifts and ornaments for them.
When men give to others, they are apt to consider how such gifts may
affect what they have to spend upon themselves. With him the position
was reversed. He kept a jealous eye upon expenditure on his own behalf.
_That_ seemed to him a kind of waste. Might it not limit his power to
help others, which to him seemed the great use and joy of having means
and money? He had an eye for art, which, if he had indulged it, might
have led to considerable expenditure. The love for music which he
manifested in early life continued with him to the end. His ear was very
delicate. He took keen delight especially in Handel’s works; and the
“Handel Festival” was one of his rare self-indulgences. But he did not
allow these tastes to occupy much of his time. Life was too full for
that, and the demands upon his energies too great.
“His attitude towards painting and music,” says a relative, “is
illustrated by a dream which he had during his last illness. He dreamed
that some friends, about to leave the town, asked him to accompany them
to a performance of the ‘Messiah’ before they left. He replied that he
had not time to go, and that he would wait till he could hear the angels
sing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’ _He could wait._ He recognised the mission
of Art as a handmaid of truth; but with him moral and spiritual
questions came first.” His own mission consisted in active efforts to
benefit his fellows. Here lay his life-work, and the indulgence of
tastes and preferences was willingly postponed to this. He cast no
reflection on those who pursued a different course, but for himself, his
feeling was that he had not time; like Him whom he followed, he must be
about his Master’s business.
While so employed, Mr. Balfour was not neglectful of the claims of the
farm he kept in his own hand. He built a new farm-steading after the
most approved models; he husbanded and applied manures with no small
skill and success; and his stirks and sheep carried off prizes, in
competition with those reared by agriculturists to the manner born.
Intelligence and energy made themselves felt in this, as in all else he
did. Yet, after all, this was but the by-play of his life.
We have been contemplating Mr. Balfour at home, in the enjoyment of
health: we have also the opportunity of seeing how he bore himself in
the time of sickness. While at Mount Alyn he was attacked by alarming
illness. It was in February 1877. The illness proved to be complicated
and exhausting. In the first weeks of the attack, Mrs. Balfour noticed
that some anxiety pressed upon his mind. It was not long before he
explained the cause. He had been associated with Mr. Samuel Smith, in
the scheme already described, for extending the usefulness of the Young
Men’s Christian Association, by the erection of new and ample premises.
This scheme he then had very much at heart. Owing to the death of the
architect and other causes, the cost proved to be much greater than had
been anticipated. Mr. Balfour had given as largely as he felt justified
in doing, and had applied for help to those who, he thought, would be
likely to assist. And now, as he was planning how to meet the
difficulty, he was laid aside and the heavy burden fell upon his friend.
This thought it was that burdened him. “Although,” says Mrs. Balfour,
“he was too ill to receive visits, our doctor consented to his seeing
Mr. Smith, in the hope that his mind might be set at rest. Mr. Smith
took the invalid’s hand, and, after a few kind words, the anxious eyes
of the patient sought the face of his friend, as he asked about the
subject which weighed upon his mind. I shall never forget how kindly Mr.
Smith responded, as he told him cheerfully that money was coming in, and
that a friend had only that morning given a large sum to help the funds.
Mr. Balfour would afterwards, if not at the moment, conjecture what was
the origin of that impromptu donation. Meantime he received this
statement as a message from God that he was not to be disquieted, and
when his visitor had left, he said, ‘Now I am quite happy.’
“During the months of weariness and suffering which followed, a murmur
never escaped him. He realised the promise, ‘Thou shalt keep him in
perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in
Thee.’ One day, when the cough was racking him, I expressed my distress
that he should be so tried. He answered gently and almost cheerfully,
‘Oh, I don’t feel that way. I put myself into God’s hands long ago, and
I am content to remain there. He knows what is best for us, and I don’t
trouble myself.’
“No doubt the restful calmness of his spirit, at that time, was an
important factor in his recovery. An eminent consulting physician came
from London to see him, and gave it as his opinion that his lungs could
never recover their tone, and that if he lived, he would always be a
crippled man. Yet when recovery began, it met with no hindrances, and by
Christmas-time of that year he was as active and energetic as ever, and
his lungs were in a perfectly healthy condition. Nor had he ever
afterwards anything in his physical condition, to remind him of that
illness.
“We spent six months,” continues Mrs. Balfour, “in France after his
illness, first at Arcachon, and afterwards at Pau, when it was his
delight to show kindness to other invalids, especially those who were
not in good circumstances, and whom he could help to get little comforts
which otherwise they must have lacked. Before our return to England, we
spent a fortnight in driving among the Pyrenees. He often walked ahead
of the carriage, his step active and light as of old, to the surprise of
English friends who were with us, and who found it no easy matter to
keep up with him.”
The Rev. George Brown of Pau thus speaks of Mr. Balfour’s visit to that
place:--“It was there and then that I had the privilege of making my
first acquaintance with Mr. Balfour. An entire stranger in Pau, he at
once attracted all who met him, by his singular geniality of character
and brightness of disposition, ‘sweetening the breath of society,’ as
Dr. Chalmers used to say, and never entering a room without bringing a
gleam of sunshine along with him. This happy natural gift, however, had
behind it something still more important, for it soon became manifest
that he was a man of purpose, and that the great aim of his life was to
serve his own generation according to the will of God.
“Though he had more than enough on his hands at home, he forthwith
entered into the Christian work of his place of sojourn, in the most
practical way, cheering those who were engaged in it with sympathy and
help.
“I mention one instance among many. The lamented M. Jean Bost addressed
a large assembly of English and French people, at the residence of Mr.
Oliphant of Pau, describing to them his unique group of ‘Asylums’ at La
Force. His _conference_ was a simple summary of facts; but as soon as he
sat down, Mr. Balfour, who had come only as a listener, unable to
repress his feelings, rose and gave such an estimate of the importance
of the work, and such a tribute to the devotedness of its founder, that
in a few minutes he communicated his own enthusiasm to the whole
meeting. It was in furthering such works that Mr. Balfour was most truly
in his element.
“As my acquaintance with him deepened, partly under his own roof at
Mount Alyn, and partly during his subsequent brief visits to Pau, I was
only the more impressed with the nobleness of his character. Personal
inconvenience, fatigue, physical discomfort scarcely ever seemed to
interrupt his cheery equanimity, but the frauds and oppressions of
trade, and the sins and sorrows of the people, stirred him up to a
passionate vehemence of feeling and expression.
“Underneath all his Christian activity, it was an open secret that he
was enjoying the rest of faith, as a member of God’s redeemed family;
and his spiritual convictions, which he did not hesitate to express,
were those of one who had tried the foundation for himself, and found it
firm and true.”
Mr. Balfour’s illness had for some time cast a shadow over his bright
and beautiful home; with his restoration, sunshine returned. He emerged
from sickness fresh and thankful in spirit, and with his appetite
whetted for the work he loved, by his lengthened season of seclusion and
repose. It was an unspeakable joy to him to find himself again in the
midst of his friends and fellow-workers in the busy city; and by them
his return was welcomed as a special gift from Heaven. We recall the
first noon prayer-meeting he attended after his recovery, and the
enthusiasm and gratitude with which he was received by many who for
months had missed his genial and sympathetic presence. He presided, and
his words were those of a man thankfully dedicating himself with fresh
consecration to his God, after being tried as silver is tried. With
special fervour he called on all his fellow-labourers to “work while it
is to-day.” It was not difficult to see that the silent waiting-time of
sickness was the source of much fruit unto holiness.
His diary contains the following brief entry in reference to his
restoration to health:--
“Sunday, 26th May, 1878, 3 P.M.
Meeting for praise to-day for my recovery at Y. M. C. A. buildings.
Confession of sin and unbelief.
Praise for restored health and strength.
Prayer for Self-consecration:
“ “ Truth of heart:
“ “ Purity of heart:
“ “ Obedience of heart:
“ “ Wisdom:
“ “ Love:
“ “ Unselfishness:
“ “ Humility:
“ “ Grace that I may not dishonour Christian profession.”