MEDICAL STUDENT LIFE IN ABERDEEN.
After his return from Florence Mr. Elmslie's thoughts were directed to
the ministry; and having passed the required preliminary examinations,
and gained a bursary by competition, he entered the Free Church Divinity
College in November 1858. During the session his attention was drawn to
the mission field, and as he searched his Bible, for instruction and
direction, an element in missionary service so obtruded itself on his
notice that it could neither be overlooked nor thrust aside. It became
clear to his mind that when the Divine Spirit gave marked prominence, in
the New Testament, to the combination of _healing with preaching_ in the
planting of Christianity, it was intended to instruct and guide those
who, in after ages, might devote themselves to the extension of the
kingdom of Christ. He accepted the lesson, and resolved to acquire the
power of healing. Instead of attempting to follow the subjective changes
through which Mr. Elmslie passed, as his thoughts gradually turned from
a pastorate at home, to service as a medical missionary abroad, it may
be more instructive to indicate, in a few brief sentences, how the
subject of medical missions–_the combination of healing with
preaching_–is presented in the Word of God. The more he studied the
infallible missionary guide; and the more he contemplated the perfect
Model Missionary–for He hath left us an ensample that we should walk in
His steps–the more he became enamoured with the delightful form of
service to which he now consecrated his life. But let us, for a moment,
turn to the Scriptures. When the disciples of the Baptist approached the
Saviour with the inquiry, "Art thou He that should come, or do we look
for another? Jesus answered and said unto them, Go and show John again
those things which ye do hear and see: the blind receive their sight and
the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are
raised up and the poor have the gospel preached unto them" (Matt. xi.
3-5). He healed the sick and preached the gospel and pointed the
inquirers to that combination as proof conclusive that He was the Sent
of God. The combination was not fortuitous or incidental; it was
foretold; and it was a striking way of delivering part of the message He
brought us from the Father,–that He came "to bear our sicknesses" and to
be "the Saviour of the _body_." This mode of procedure was wondrously
fitted to secure a friendly consideration to his claims among the
ignorant, the indifferent, or the hostile; and was full of wisdom and
tenderness. It is well to note that this is not a solitary instance of
the combination of healing and preaching, got up to settle doubts in the
minds of John's disciples. In the life of Jesus it is "_use and wont_,"
and their attention is directed to it as a sample of what He is doing
every day, and occasionally to such an extent that there is not time "so
much as to eat bread," and His relatives think "He is beside Himself."
It is not necessary to multiply quotations. One must suffice. "And Jesus
went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and preaching the
gospel of the kingdom, and healing all manner of sickness and all manner
of disease among the people. And His fame went throughout all Syria; and
they brought unto Him all sick people that were taken with divers
diseases and torments, and those which were possessed with devils, and
those which were lunatic, and those that had the palsy; and He healed
them" (Matt. iv. 23, 24.).
This combination of healing with the preaching of the gospel is not only
largely exhibited in the ministry of Jesus, but was enjoined by Him upon
the Apostles who practised it in the home and foreign mission field,
during their Master's lifetime and after His ascension to glory. Their
commission is particularly clear on this point,–"As ye go, preach,
saying, The kingdom of God is at hand. Heal the sick; ... freely ye have
received, freely give" (Matt. x. 7, 8). "He sent them (the twelve
disciples) to preach the kingdom of God and to heal the sick" (Luke ix.
2). Very similar are the instructions given by the Lord to the seventy
home missionaries whom He sent, two and two, into every city whither He
Himself would come. "Heal the sick that are therein, and say unto them,
The kingdom of God is come nigh unto you."
The case of Paul is very instructive. Most of his life, after his
conversion, was spent in pioneering mission work, in which the "healing"
element was likely to be of much use, and we find he was endowed with
that power in a remarkable degree. In Ephesus, an important heathen
centre, where opposition was strong and his difficulties many and great,
it is said, "God wrought special miracles by the hands of Paul; so that
from his body were brought unto the sick handkerchiefs or aprons, and
the diseases departed from them, and the evil spirits went out of them"
(Acts xix. 11, 12). An apron or handkerchief having touched the
Apostle's body is carried to a sufferer and suffices to effect a cure.
This indicates a marvellous latitude for the exercise of the healing
power, and yet it is evident there were limitations to it. This great
Apostle, who was not a whit behind the chiefest of the apostles, was not
able to cure Timothy, though much depended on his enjoying vigorous
health. We infer this inability from the fact that Paul left him in his
infirmity, and fell back on the very humble "Recipe"–"Take a little wine
for thy stomach's sake." Why not heal him right off? Why not send a
"handkerchief" to him? Again, we read, "Trophimus have I _left_ at
Miletum, _sick_." Very strange, if there be no restrictions imposed on
this power to heal! Why cure Sergius Paulus, a heathen, and _leave_ his
_Christian friend lying ill_? More striking still; Epaphroditus was
sick, nigh unto death, and Paul's heart was breaking lest he should die,
and he should have sorrow upon sorrow. Why not try the efficacy of the
handkerchief here? Paul assuredly _would_ have cured him if he _could_.
There were not many such labourers as Epaphroditus, and so he could ill
be spared from active duty; and Paul's affection made sure that
everything possible would be done for him, yet the sickness presses on;
"_nigh unto death_" and the apostle's sorrow deepens. These restrictions
tend to show that the exercise of the healing power was much limited
within the domain of the _Church_. On the other hand it seemed to enjoy
unlimited scope in its approaches to an outlying heathenism. The
combination of healing with preaching was plainly intended to be a
_pioneering_ agency. "Into whatsoever city ye _enter_, heal the sick."
The significance of these lessons, as pointing out the path of duty to
us, is not weakened by the fact that all the "_healing_" was performed
by supernatural power; for, in those early days, the same power that
enabled the missionary to heal enabled him to speak in "an unknown
tongue." But the withdrawal of the miraculous from this latter element
of missions does not free us from the obligation "to go into all the
world," and, by the use of our natural faculties, acquire the ability to
speak in foreign tongues. So in regard of the power to heal–it must be
now gained by diligent study. The Scriptures thus seem to show very
plainly that the best way of reaching the heathen, and, consequently,
that the most effective form of mission agency is to combine healing
with the preaching of the gospel. Most certainly this was the practice
of Christ and the apostles; and it must surely be unwise to disregard
the plain teaching of that practice regarding the best means of
spreading the gospel. Mr. Elmslie, as we have said, bowed to the
Scripture teaching, and resolved to acquire the power of healing–to
become a medical missionary. The cause at that time was little known and
little esteemed; but he was fully persuaded in his own mind; and this
clear conviction helped to uphold him during the storm that burst upon
him when he made known his intention to study medicine. To face four
years of study, _with winter and summer courses_, besides the heavy
expense of a _medical_ education, seemed madness to his friends, and
they vehemently opposed him in his resolution; but hitherto the Lord had
helped him, and to be a workman thoroughly furnished for the Master's
service appeared to him worth any amount of effort and self-denial.
Accordingly he braced himself up to his work. Again he taught in the
Academy, received private pupils, stitched the '_uppers_' of boots and
shoes, and pored over his books. Sixteen hours of work daily was the
rule in those busy years. _Study_ was rather a relaxation than anything
else. Long-continued custom had begotten a love for it, and obstacles
seemed to add a certain zest to his pursuit of knowledge. But during
this preparation period there were seasons when the cares of poverty
pressed heavily; and faith, hope, and patience required to be in fullest
exercise.
At one time, when sorely bestead, he made a journey on foot all the way
to Inverness, where a brother of his mother's lived in comfortable
circumstances. His purpose was to lay his case before him, and to ask
temporary aid, to be restored with interest when God should give him
power to win money for himself. He was kindly welcomed, and invited to
spend some weeks in the family, but no inquiry was made as to his
circumstances, nor was any assistance offered. He could not muster
fortitude to break to his uncle the subject of his necessities; and so
he returned to Aberdeen with an empty purse and a "full" heart, to work
harder, if possible, and to pray more earnestly. Remembering the hopes
and the bitter disappointment of that journey, he used to say that a
rich man could hardly give greater comfort, or do more good than by
extending a helping hand to "A STRUGGLING STUDENT, REALLY IN EARNEST IN
HIS WORK, AND WITH HIS MASTER'S SERVICE AS HIS DEAREST AIM." These words
are in capitals, to express Mr. Elmslie's strong views as to the _kind_
of students to whom help would be a benefit. They must be "_struggling_"
students, who, above all things, love the Master and His work. He came
to know that some who had no love for Jesus might take up the profession
of religion, to be helped into the profession of medicine. They did not
"struggle," and had not the remotest intention to struggle, but were
mean enough to accept the fruits of self-sacrifice on the part of
others, that they might live in comfort and self-indulgence. He held
very strongly that no student with a trace of manliness in him, would
accept such help from others, save in real necessity, and then only as
an accommodation.
It is necessary to advert to the difficulties with which Mr. Elmslie had
to contend, but very pleasing it is to note how cheerily he grappled
with them. Writing to his friend, Mr. Ritchie, from Ballater–whither he
had gone for rest–in 1859, at a time when dark clouds in abundance
clustered around his horizon, he says: "I am living here very much like
a hermit. But, for all that, I feel very happy, except now and then when
a cloud comes over the horizon of my mind. I then feel a temporary
sadness, which, however, soon passes, as when a cloud crosses the disc
of the sun. O for another such laugh as we had the first day we were
here, it would do us good. It's a delicious thing, a good hearty laugh.
You will be thinking I am getting mighty wise, having so much time and
inclination for reading. Far from it. It takes a great deal of reading
to make one wise. One retains so little of what he reads, that it is a
long, long time before the grains of gold gathered assume any
considerable bulk." Writing to the same friend a few days later, he
says: "I was extremely glad yesterday to see you before me in 'black
upon white.'"
"I knew you had been doing business by the address on the envelope–it
was so smart and commercial like, as much as to say, Get out of the way,
you poor student, you can't transact business like me; what do you
think, I am a man with an income of a hundred–a hundred and twenty
pounds! every farthing–that's something worth writing. No more two
guineas an hour. No more rushing from house to house, like one begging
his bread from door to door, in a cold night in December. No, no;
nothing so beggarly; I am a little gentleman now, and shall be able to
spend my winter evenings within doors as far as is agreeable to my
taste. I say I almost saw all that, and a great deal more, depicted on
that commercial envelope of yours. And when I opened, I found my most
sanguine expectations fully realised; you being the proud master of £120
a year, with twenty-two urchins to drill scholastically. Your bread's
baken, Andrew, I said, for the next year, at least. Now I think you
acted wisely in accepting the offer, although you should hold the
situation only for a year. And I will tell you why. Your responsibility
is increased, and that not to such an extent as to crush you under its
weight. It's of great consequence, I consider it, to have one's
responsibility thus gradually increased. It fits one for a farther
increase, when he has successfully carried his previous burden. Why is
it that some men, and especially ministers, so completely fail in
sustaining the weight of responsibility that is suddenly laid upon their
shoulders? Just because their shoulders are strangers to the weight, and
the weight is too much for them at first. I suppose you see what I am
driving at."
At the election of Lord Rector for the University in 1860, Mr. Elmslie
took a somewhat prominent part. In Aberdeen, on such occasions, the
votes are given by "_Nations_,"–a nation representing the students from
certain defined districts. They sometimes differed greatly in numerical
strength. This year, for example, _Mar_ contained 149 matriculated
students, _Moray_ registered only 49, and yet in electoral value, they
were equal! On this occasion, two nations voted for one candidate, and
two for the other, but there was a majority of 38 students in favour of
one of the candidates, so that when the Principal intimated his
intention of settling the difficulty by giving his casting vote against
the candidate supported by the majority of students, the Mar and Angus
nations resolved to dispute said vote as "inexpedient, incompetent, and
illegal." Funds were raised to meet the law expenses, and Mr. Elmslie
was appointed treasurer. It is amusing to note the carefulness with
which, in letter after letter, he impresses on the agents in Edinburgh
that he and his companions are not to be held responsible for the
payment of a single farthing beyond the monies actually received.
The election was carried against his party, and on the 16th March 1861,
the professors and students assembled to hear the Rector's inaugural
address. At the close of the preliminary services, when the successful
candidate was just going to speak, Mr. Elmslie, being a procurator,
ascended the platform, and very deliberately read a protest against the
validity of his election. He then, with a low bow, placed the document
in the hands of the Principal, and walked out of the room, followed by a
considerable number of students. But many of the same party remained to
see what was to be the upshot of their proceedings; and not a few, to
give _impressiveness_ to their protest, had come to the hall armed with
peas, shot, stones, and other such-like persuasive but most illogical
arguments, and the result was a "_row_," prodigiously out of keeping
with academic propriety. Although Mr. Elmslie was entirely blameless in
regard to these low proceedings, the amount of censure awarded him was
_singularly_ liberal. "Nothing," writes his companion in the
struggle,–now the Rev. Mr. Mackie of St. Mary's E. C. Dumfries–"nothing
could be more alien to Elmslie's feelings and sense of duty than any
breach of university discipline. He took no part in it, and restrained
it to the utmost of his power." Referring to these student days, Mr.
Mackie writes, "My early acquaintance with Mr. Elmslie impressed me
equally with esteem for the greatness of his intellect, and the goodness
of his heart. He was slow of speech, but swift in judging. Often, when
plans were proposed, he would simply say 'No' very slowly, and then
render a single reason which left no room for any other reply than 'I
see.' He was one of the most satisfactory friends I have ever had in
life; for you could count upon him at all times. I cannot recall a
single instance in which his counsel seemed to fail me when we were
acting together under very trying circumstances, with very few
opportunities for consultation. His memory was remarkably tenacious of
any agreement as to co-operation, as he was remarkably tenacious of his
purposes. One always knew where he would find him."
In the end of July of 1862 he passed his second professional
examination. "It was," he writes to Mr Ritchie, "a long, stiff, but I am
happy to say, a successful pull. We had nine hours hard work,–to me at
least it was hard. There was no little manual work, apart from the
mental effort required in summoning up so many facts and putting them
together in a connected form. I was exceedingly fortunate in the subject
on which I was examined (_vivâ voce_). I answered the questions as fast
as they were put to me, and altogether got on splendidly until I felt
sorry when the examinations were ended, because I could not get any
longer opportunity of showing off how thoroughly I was '_up_.' This was
a bit of vanity, but pardonable, I think; was it not? At the close of
the examination, on being called into the Senatus Chamber, I was
informed by the Dean of the Faculty that I had passed with '_much
credit_.'"
At an early stage of his studies Mr. Elmslie had heard of the Edinburgh
Medical Missionary Society, an organization which paid the class fees,
text books, and cost of licences of young men desiring to prepare
themselves for the mission field. The reader is already aware that it
was no easy task for Mr. Elmslie to open up his difficulties to others,
but pressed by necessity, and encouraged by friends, he laid his case
before the society in Edinburgh, and on the 7th May 1860 he got the
following reply from the secretary, Dr. Coldstream, "I was instructed to
inform you that the committee cannot consent to relax in your favour,
their regulations as to residence in Edinburgh, during the Medical
Curriculum, and the requiring their students to abstain from private
teaching." It is due to the gentleman who sent this official notice to
state, that he spoke a word of kindly cheer from himself which helped to
lessen the bitterness of disappointment.
"Afflictions are not joyous but grievous;" sometimes, however, they are
very profitable: and there is nothing for which Mr. Elmslie gives more
frequent or more hearty thanks, than for his "afflictions"–for the very
trials, the record of which awakens our sympathy. Soon again he was
battling as cheerily with his responsibilities as if he had received no
disheartening repulse. Some twelve months after, an influential friend
in Aberdeen brought his case a second time before the Board in
Edinburgh. This gave rise to a very instructive correspondence, but our
present object requires us to cull from it nothing more than the simple
fact, that notwithstanding the difficulties mentioned above as lying in
the way of his getting help from Edinburgh he did get a grant in aid of
£15.
Having passed his second professional examination with honours, he came
to the last year of his medical course, rejoicing, as students usually
do at that period, in the thought that practically his battle was
fought. I was anxious, he writes, "to spend the winter in Edinburgh, as
it was in all likelihood my last before going abroad." And so he came
south prepared to accept gratefully, as a temporary accommodation, such
benefits as the Missionary Society could bestow. Mr. Elmslie feared
there might be some risk in coming to attend medical classes in
Edinburgh, if he purposed–as he did–to return to Aberdeen for his final
examination and degree; but his desire to be even for one season under
men like Syme, Simpson, Miller, &c., overcame his hesitation, and in
November 1862 he became an inmate of our humble home in the Dispensary
in Edinburgh.