"THROUGH MUCH TRIBULATION."
The darkest hour had not yet come! Two or three days after she had
secured the removal of her husband from the common prison, he and all
the white men were suddenly seized and hurried out of the city. Mrs.
Judson was engaged elsewhere at the time, and for some hours she was
unable to learn where the prisoners had been taken; but a servant who
had seen them leave gave her a clue, and she at once followed it up. She
deposited her books and medicines with the friendly governor, and set
out with her babe on her arm, and two orphan children she had adopted by
her side, seeking her husband. After a wearisome journey she found him
in a wretched prison at Oung-pen-la, almost dead from weakness and the
torture he had undergone on his forced march, and was greeted with the
pathetic words, so illustrative of Adoniram Judson's utter
unselfishness, "Why have you come? I hoped you would not follow, for you
cannot live here." The prison was placed in a lonely spot, far away from
any village. There was no accommodation for Mrs. Judson, and no food
could be obtained near at hand. She was refused permission to build
herself a little hut, but the jailer found her a small, dirty store-room
in his own house, and here she and the three children lived for the next
six months. Day by day she searched for food, not only for her husband,
but for the other white prisoners; and though worn out with pain and
sorrow, cheered them, looked after their every want, and continually
applied to the officials for some improvement in their lot. The untold
privations she was suffering soon told on a frame that had never been
very strong. Her two adopted children were taken with small-pox, and
when they had partly recovered the baby was also attacked. Mrs. Judson
had now to look after them in addition to her other work, and would
often spend the day attending to the prisoners, and the night in nursing
the children. The watchings and fatigue at last broke her down, and for
two months she was unable to leave her bed. She had for most of the time
no attendant except a common Bengalee cook, but this man proved an
invaluable aid. He worked almost without ceasing, nursing Mrs. Judson,
searching for provisions, and feeding the prisoners. The little baby was
in a most deplorable state. It had no nurse, Mrs. Judson could not feed
it on account of her fever, and the only way it existed was by her
husband obtaining permission from the jailer to go out for a short time
each day, carry the child around the village, and beg a little
nourishment for it from those mothers who had young children. "I now
began to think the very afflictions of Job had come upon me," wrote Mrs.
Judson. "When in health I could bear the various trials and vicissitudes
through which I was called upon to pass; but to be confined with
sickness, and unable to assist those who were so dear to me, when in
distress, was almost too much for me to bear; and had it not been for
the consolations of religion, and an assured conviction that every
additional trial was ordered by infinite love and mercy, I must have
sunk under my accumulated sufferings."
Meanwhile the English army was daily coming closer and closer to the
capital, and Mr. Judson was taken out of prison and sent down to the
Burmese camp, to act as translator in the negotiations which were going
on between the two forces. The victorious British general, Sir Archibald
Campbell, ordered the Burmese to pay a heavy war indemnity, and to cede
a large part of their territory to the English; and he also stipulated
that all foreign prisoners who wished should be handed over to him.
Consequently the Judsons found themselves once more free, after a year
and seven months' imprisonment, and were made the honoured guests of the
English general.
But the relief came too late, for Mrs. Judson's constitution was
completely undermined by the privations she had endured. She and her
husband settled in Amherst, a new town in British Burman territory, and
hopefully looked forward to carrying on a useful work there. They had
not been many months in the place before Mrs. Judson had a bad attack of
fever, at a time when her husband was away helping the English general.
She seemed temporarily to get better, but she had no strength left to
resist the disease, and gradually sank. "The teacher is long in coming,
and the new missionaries are long in coming," she murmured in a moment
of relief from her delirium. "I must die alone, and leave my little one;
but as it is the will of God I acquiesce in His will. I am not afraid of
death; but I am afraid I shall not be able to bear these pains. Tell the
teacher the disease was most violent, and I could not write; tell him
how I suffered and died; tell him all that you see; and take care of the
house and things until he returns." For most of the time she lay
unconscious, and on October 24, 1827, after about sixteen days of
illness, and at the age of thirty-seven, she passed away before her
husband could return. Soon afterwards her baby followed her.
And so went home one of the noblest women who have laboured in the
mission field. Her brave spirit, her undaunted trust in God and in the
power of prayer upheld her, when the courage of the bravest men would
have failed. Not a little of the remarkable success of the work of God
in Burmah is due to the indomitable perseverance and the wise devotion
to God and to her husband of Ann Judson; and wherever the Gospel is
preached, that also which this woman hath done shall be spoken of for a
memorial of her.
Was her life thrown away? Were the labours and sufferings she had bodily
undergone wasted? Not so. The story of her life has been and still is a
precious heritage for the whole Church militant, a lesson which ever
appeals to Christians to rouse themselves from self-seeking and
apathetic lives, and consecrate their talents to the Master's use.
Though she was taken up higher, the work in Burmah did not stop, and
before many years had passed, hundreds and thousands of the people among
whom she had laboured were professing to serve the true God; so true is
it that "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church."
FRED. A. McKENZIE.
MARY LOUISA WHATELY.
[Illustration]
I.
PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD.
Mary Louisa Whately came of a distinguished family. Her father, Dr.
Richard Whately, for many years Archbishop of Dublin, was one of the
most remarkable and prominent men of the first half of the nineteenth
century, a voluminous writer, a strenuous thinker, and a statesmanlike
ecclesiastic. Her mother, Elizabeth, daughter of Mr. W. Pope of
Uxbridge, was, says Miss E.J. Whately, a woman of "grace and dignity of
character, delicacy of mind and sensitive refinement, which were united
with high powers of intellect and mental cultivation and a thirst for
knowledge seldom exceeded." [1] She was an ardent Christian, and devoted
herself to works of beneficence and Christian service among the poor, as
far as her delicate health would allow.
[Footnote 1: _Life of Archbishop Whately_, by his daughter, vol. 1. p.
43.]
Mary was born at Halesworth in Suffolk, of which parish her father was
then the rector, on August 31, 1824. The following year her father was
appointed Principal of St. Alban Hall, and removed with his family to
Oxford. In 1831 he accepted the Archbishopric of Dublin, and thus at the
age of seven Dublin became, what it remained for thirty years, Mary
Whately's home. She was the third of a family of five, four girls and
one boy, who all inherited something of their mother's delicacy of
constitution and a good share of their father's strength of intellect
and character. They were near enough to each other in age to share one
another's studies and games, and, living a very retired life, depended
largely on each other for companionship. For a portion of the year they
resided in the archiepiscopal palace in Dublin. But on account of the
many social demands made on him in the city, the place became
distasteful to Dr. Whately, and he engaged a charming country residence
called Redesdale, some four or five miles out of town. Here he resided
the larger portion of the year, living a quieter life than was possible
in the city, and driving into Dublin on most mornings to attend to his
official duties. In the intervals of study and the discharge of public
duty he devoted himself to his garden, in the cultivation of which he
displayed much skill and ingenuity. Redesdale was the children's home,
though the life there was occasionally varied by a stay in London (where
their father usually spent a few weeks each spring to attend the House
of Lords), at Tunbridge Wells, where they had relatives, or at the
seaside, and later by visits to the Continent.
The Archbishop had very decided views on the training and education of
children, and his wife also, as her _English Social Life_ shows, had
thought much on the subject. One of the Archbishop's rules was that
children should never learn anything by rote. "When Mrs. Whately and I
first married," he observed on one occasion, "one of the first things we
agreed on was, that should Providence send us children, we would never
teach them anything they did not understand. 'Not even their prayers, my
lord?' asked the person addressed. 'No, not even their prayers,' he
replied." [1] Mary's education was conducted mainly by a governess, under
the superintendence of her parents. Her brother, Archdeacon Whately,
thus refers to her early life: "Our life in Ireland was on the whole a
very retired one. For the greater part of our sojourn there we saw very
little society, nor had my sisters a sufficient vent for a craving,
which in some of them was very strong, for social intercourse and active
work.... In early life she showed the germs of that vigour and energy of
character for which she was afterwards so distinguished. In all our
youthful games she was fond of taking the lead, and generally succeeded
in obtaining it.... Like most young persons of a sanguine and
imaginative temperament, she lived very much in an ideal future of her
own creation.... It was well for my sister that we were not allowed in
our younger days to read any unwholesome trash in the way of fiction. We
were not indeed unduly restricted in works of imagination, but we read
nothing which was foolish or sensational, and a higher taste than the
taste for mere stories was cultivated in us. Mary Whately had a strong
predilection for works of travels, history, and adventures. Perhaps
these tastes were a foreshadowing of her future destiny, and prepared
her for it." [2] Her sister adds, "Mary was from her earliest years
ardent and impulsive, hot-tempered and generous. She was quick at
lessons, and possessed of a retentive memory, though the active brain
and lively imagination made schoolroom routine somewhat irksome
to her." [3]
[Footnote 1: _Life of Archbishop Whately_, by his daughter, vol. 1. p. 62.]
[Footnote 2: _The Fireside_ for 1889, pp. 817, 818.]
[Footnote 3: _Life of Mary J. Whately_, by E.J. Whately, p. 10.]
II.
THE BEGINNINGS OF CHRISTIAN LIFE AND SERVICE.
Dr. and Mrs. Whately gave their children a careful religious and moral
training, and sought to instil into their minds the highest motives for
right doing, and to set before them a high standard of conduct. Mrs.
Whately early associated her daughters with herself in visiting among
the poor in the village of Stillorgan, which adjoined the grounds of
Redesdale, and in teaching in the village school. The poor of Dublin
also were not forgotten, and especially at Christmas time Mary shared
with her mother in the distribution of gifts among the deserving poor in
the city, and in the entertainment of many of them in the servants' hall
of the palace.
It is not known, perhaps she could not herself tell, exactly at what
period the light of the Gospel first dawned upon her heart, but a
subsequent time at which her spiritual life was much deepened and
intensified was very marked. In 1849 the health of her brother broke
down, and he was ordered by the physicians to spend the winter on the
Continent. Mary accompanied him. They went first to Nice, but the
climate disagreeing with them, they passed on to Florence and Pisa, and
subsequently spent some time among the Waldensian valleys. This tour was
in many ways a preparation for Mary's future life. She took lessons in
painting, which was to be the chief recreation of her later years; she
attained some proficiency in Italian, which led her a few years
afterwards to engage in mission work among the poor Italians in Dublin;
and her visit to the Waldensian valleys gave her her first insight into
evangelical work abroad. But most important of all, she became
acquainted with M. Meille, a young Waldensian pastor, and his wife,
through her intercourse with whom her religious convictions became
intensified and her spiritual horizon widened. When she returned to
Dublin the great Irish famine was still continuing. The distribution of
food and other efforts to relieve the distress were occupying the
attention of all philanthropic persons. Mrs. Whately had become actively
engaged in this work, and she and her daughters henceforward took a more
prominent part in aggressive Christian work than they had hitherto done.
Famine relief paved the way for greatly extended effort to spread Gospel
knowledge among the Roman Catholic population. Industrial and Bible
schools, refuges, and other Christian institutions sprang up in various
parts of the country. Protestant missions to Roman Catholics were
greatly extended. In this work Mary Whately found opportunity for the
expression of her deepened spiritual experience. She taught in the
adult classes at the Townsend Street Mission Hall joined her sisters and
other ladies in founding a ragged school for boys--the first in
Ireland--and afterwards in instituting a work among destitute girls,
which issued in the Luke Street Girls' Home where hundreds of poor girls
were taught to live respectable and Christian lives. These various forms
of Christian service gave her tact and experience in dealing with the
poor, which proved invaluable in her subsequent work in Egypt. As her
sister says, "The Irish Church Mission work was the preparatory training
to which she always especially looked back with thankfulness. The
admirable manner of teaching and explaining Scripture employed in their
schools she felt to have been the most valuable education for her
subsequent life-work." [l]
[Footnote 1: _Life of Mary L. Whately_, by E.J. Whately, p. 15.]
In 1856, as she was in ill health, it was recommended that she should
spend the winter in a warmer climate. Egypt was chosen, and, accompanied
by a friend, she landed at Alexandria and proceeded to Cairo, where she
remained several months. This was her first acquaintance with what was
to be the land of her adoption. Before returning home in the spring of
1857 she made a prolonged tour in Syria and Palestine. She took much
note of the mission work carried on in various places, and so greatly
interested was she in the work among Jewesses then carried on in
Jerusalem that she had some thoughts of giving it for a time her
personal assistance.
III.
FIRST EFFORTS IN CAIRO.
The year 1860 was one of sorrow and bereavement to Mary Whately. She
lost first her youngest sister, then her mother. Under the strain of
nursing and sorrow her own health was seriously affected, and she was
ordered by the doctors to spend the winter in a warmer climate. Her
thoughts recurred to Egypt and her former pleasant sojourn there;
accordingly she selected Cairo as her residence, purposing in her heart
to make an attempt to bring the Gospel within reach of the Moslem women
and girls. Egypt was then very different from what it is now. Railways
were but just beginning to make their appearance, the Suez Canal was not
yet cut, European customs, now so prevalent, had scarcely begun to
invade the age-long usages of the upper classes. English residents in
Cairo and tourists up the river were alike few in number. Few outside
influences had been brought to bear on the Mohammedan population to
moderate their extreme bigotry and hatred of anything called
_Christian_--a word which they invariably associated with the picture
and image worship of the members of the Greek or Roman Church with whom
they had come in contact, or with the irreligious pleasure-seeking of
tourists, or travellers by the overland route to India. The Copts, or
descendants of the early Egyptian Christians, were almost without
exception buried in the profoundest ignorance of the Scriptures and of
Christian truth, given over to superstitious beliefs and practices, and
destitute of any real spiritual life. Education for boys was of the most
primitive character; for girls it was never thought of, nor had any
educational effort ever been made for them during the twelve centuries
which had elapsed since the rise of Mohammedanism. Christian missionary
operations were almost non-existent. The American Presbyterians had
recently commenced missionary effort, but their work was mainly, as it
still is, among the Copts, and they had not yet opened a station in
Cairo. Since 1827 indeed the Church Missionary Society had maintained a
missionary--sometimes two--in Cairo, but their work had not issued in
the formation of a Protestant Christian Church.
"It was laid on my heart," says Mary Whately, "to try and do something
for the girls and women of the land, especially those of the Moslem
poorer classes, far the most numerous, of course. The only schools
hitherto opened for the children of the land had no scholars except from
the Copts or native Christians; others were considered quite out of
reach, and many of my friends endeavoured to dissuade me from an attempt
which was sure to end in failure, as they said. However, it seemed best
to make an effort, at all events. But it was begun in prayer, and
therefore difficulties and delays did not greatly discourage me." [l]
[Footnote 1: _Life of Mary L. Whately_, pp. 21, 25.]
Mary Whately, accompanied by a cousin, resided for a time with Mrs.
Lieder, of the Church Missionary Society. But in order to open a school
she had to engage a house for herself; and after great difficulties one
was secured in a suitable position. It was but a comfortless abode, and
only rude furniture and inefficient domestic help were obtainable. But
Miss Whately held outward comforts in light regard. Even in later days,
when she had built for herself a capacious and comfortable house, it was
furnished in the simplest, even rudest fashion, and all her personal
expenses were cut down to the lowest possible point, that she might have
the more to spend the work to which she gave both her heart and her
life. As as she was settled in her new house she endeavoured to make
acquaintance of her neighbours.
Miss Whately was but just beginning to learn Arabic, and the only
assistants she could get for starting her school were a Syrian
matron--who could speak but a few words of English and read with
difficulty the New Testament--and her daughter of thirteen. Accompanied
by the Syrian matron, Miss Whately went out into the surrounding lanes
and invited the women to send their little girls to her to be taught to
read and sew. She met with many curt refusals and received many
fallacious promises; but when at last, in February 1861, a start was
made, nine little girls were present the first morning "No recruiting
sergeant," she says, "was ever so pleased with a handful of future
soldiers, for it was beating up for recruits for the Lord." [1] The
numbers gradually increased, though from time to time they were
seriously affected by the spreading of malicious reports and the
opposition of bigoted relatives and the only way to keep up the
attendance was to go round visiting to obtain recruits, and to cultivate
an acquaintance with the parents of the old scholars. In three months
the children had been reduced to some sort of order, taught the alphabet
and the way to sew; they could repeat a few texts, and sing a few hymns
with some approach to sweetness. But perhaps of more importance still,
they had learned to love and obey their teacher. Before her return to
England for the summer she took them for an early morning feast in the
public gardens of Cairo: and when the simple repast was finished, while
"the little ones danced and waved boughs in a perfect ecstacy of
merriment," the elder girls, she says, "seemed to find no pleasure so
great as following us about, pointing to the flowers, and frequently
throwing their arms round us, exclaiming, 'I love thee! I love thee
much!' with eyes really overflowing with affection. How often had it
been said 'You can make nothing of Moslem girls!' but the key of love is
wonderfully powerful, and equally so in every land in opening the doors
of young hearts." [2]
[Footnote :1 _Bagged Life in Egypt_, new ed., p. 29.]
[Footnote :2 _Ibid_., p. 110.]
Meanwhile the beginnings of other Christian work had been made by Miss
Whately. In the early mornings she would drive or ride a few miles out
of the city, and seating herself near to some hamlet would enter into
conversation with the women and girls, and seek to instil into their
dark minds some drops of divine truth. Much of her time also was spent
in visiting the poorer women of the city.
When, at the end of May, both the heat of the climate and family claims
necessitated her return home, she placed her little school under the
care of a teacher whom the Society for Promoting Female Education in the
East provided.
The following winter was passed with some friends at Pau. After a trip
to the north of Spain she spent another summer at home. In the autumn
of 1862 she again arrived in Cairo, to re-open her school, which had for
some time been suspended through the departure of the teacher. Many of
her former scholars, hearing of her return, came to give her a very
hearty greeting, and were willing to come back to school, bringing their
younger sisters with them. They had, however, forgotten nearly all they
had learned, and were at first very unruly. No assistance beyond that of
an ignorant woman to help keep order and teach a little sewing was
obtainable, while Miss Whately's still imperfect acquaintance with
Arabic increased the difficulties which are everywhere experienced in
the conduct of a ragged school. The younger children were especially
difficult to deal with. The parents of the Mohammedan children objected
to the use of pictures, being accustomed to see them the objects of
reverence on the part of the Copts and other Eastern Christians, while
the Coptic children were inclined to worship them. Amusing songs in
Arabic, suitable for young children, there were none; and when a little
marching about was attempted for the sake of variety, the mothers said,
"We send our children to _learn_, and you teach them to _play_! If that
is what they go to school for, they may as well be at home." [1] After a
time a young woman was found who could do a little teaching. Miss
Whately had to continue to give all the religious instruction herself.
Yet, despite the many difficulties, the school was firmly established
and continued to make slow but steady progress.
[Footnote 1: _Among the Huts_, p. 269.]
When her scholars were about to start for the "school-treat" to which
reference has been made, a little boy, looking on with envious eyes, had
exclaimed in a piteous voice, "I wish I were a girl." [1] "It was indeed
a triumph," says Miss Whately, "to the little school that it caused an
Egyptian boy even for a moment to wish himself a girl." Other boys had
expressed their desire to come to school; so, as the 'girls' school did
not meet on Sundays, Miss Whately started a Sunday class for boys. This
was all it was possible for her to do by herself. But just at that time
she became acquainted with one who, with other members of his family,
was henceforth to be closely associated With all her work in Egypt. This
was Mansoor Shakoor, a young Christian Syrian of good family and
education, who, after working for some years as teacher and evangelist
in Syria, had become agent in Cairo for the Moslem Mission Society,
recently established in England. First of all Yousif Shakoor, brother of
Mansoor, came to help her in work.[2] Later Mansoor also entered her
employ, and she maintained both the brothers from her private resources.
Thus she was provided with devoted and efficient helpers. Under their
superintendence a regular school for boys was established, and when in
1863 she again returned to England she left the charge of all her work
in their hands. On the 8th of October in that year Archbishop Whately
died, and Mary Whately's Irish home being broken up, she determined
henceforth to fix her permanent abode in Cairo. She now hired another
house near to her own residence for the accommodation of the
increasing schools.
[Footnote 1: _Ragged Life in Egypt_, new ed., p. 167.] [Footnote 2:
_Life of Mansoor Shakoor_, pp. 58, 59.]
Very few English people can stand the intense heat of the Egyptian
summer, and Mary Whately being disinclined in 1864 to come so far as to
England, spent a short time instead in Syria. When she returned to Cairo
she took with her to educate and train Fereedy Naseef, the young cousin
and betrothed of Mansoor Shakoor. For this young girl there sprang up in
Mary Whately's heart a deep and warm affection; she called her and
treated her as her daughter, and both before and after her marriage in
the summer of 1868 she resided under Miss Whately's roof. When in 1872
her husband died, she still remained, and Miss Whately shared with her
the care and training of her young son and daughter, while she in return
gave great assistance in the conduct and work of the mission.
IV.
MISSION WORK IN CAIRO AND ON THE NILE.
Is it possible to convert Moslems to Christianity? are they ready to
receive it? No one perhaps is more competent to answer these questions
than Mary Whately, and this is what she says: "To say, as has been
sometimes rashly declared, that the Moslems are ready to receive
Christianity, and that the faith of the false prophet is crumbling away,
is what I would not venture for a moment to assert. But I can state as a
fact, that in the neighbourhood of Cairo the peasant population both men
and women, are willing, and many of them eager to _listen_ to the Word
of God when it is brought before them judiciously and discreetly, as
well as with kindness and zeal." [1]
[Footnote 1: _More about Rugged Life in Egypt_, p. 210.]
Subsequent experience confirmed this view, and more than twenty years
later she remarks "It is necessary to be discreet in dealing with
Mohammedans, for if the spirit of bitterness is once aroused, the door
is shut, for the time at least, against good influences." [1] To awaken
to an experience of vital religion the ignorant, superstitious, and
spiritually lifeless Copts is a difficult task; to bring to personal
faith in Christ the bigoted Moslems is more difficult still. "A Moslem's
religion," she says, "is twined up with his political, social, domestic
life so minutely, that the whole rope, as it were, has to untwisted
before he can be free from error, and the very admixture of truth in
their book makes it harder in some respects to refute than if, like the
heathen doctrines, it was all wrong throughout. Perhaps the intense
self-righteousness of Moslems is after all the hardest point about them;
their notion that in the end all who are Islam are safe strengthens
them in this belief." [2] Nevertheless, the points of contact between the
Mohammedan faith and the Christian a wise teacher can use as pegs to
hang Christian teaching upon; and this Mary Whately's previous
experience among the ignorant and bigoted Roman Catholics of Ireland
enabled her to do with much tact. When peasants said to her, "Your book
is Christian--we don't like Christian books," she would explain that it
was God's book, and that the Koran did not forbid it to be read; and
that she wanted to tell them about Seidna Eessa (the Lord Jesus), whom
Mohammed acknowledged to be a prophet. In this way many an initial
difficulty would be overcome, and the reading, with simple explanation,
of stories from the Gospels would elicit the response, "The words are
good," and the request for the gift of a New Testament.
[Footnote 1: _Life of Mary L. Whately_, p. 109.]
[Footnote 2: _A Glimpse behind the Curtain_, p. 117.]
[Illustration: Mary L. Whately]
As soon as Miss Whately had settled in Egypt she began visiting the
poorer women of Cairo. Usually she was received with courtesy, and when
she became known, with gratitude; and though this work was arduous and
consumed much time, through it an entrance was made for the Gospel into
many homes. Into the houses of the rich she penetrated but seldom,
partly because her work lay in other directions, and partly because
these were occupied by numerous slave-wives, who, being chiefly
Circassians or Georgians, spoke Turkish, and did not understand Arabic.
In earlier years Miss Whately did all the visiting herself, and her
books bear abundant testimony to the skill with which she could turn the
conversation to spiritual matters; in later years she was much assisted
in it by Mrs. Shakoor and by a Bible-woman whom she employed.
Mansoor and Yousif Shakoor engaged in similar work among men. They often
found men at the coffee-houses willing to listen to the reading of the
Scriptures. When this was put a stop to through the opposition of the
Moslem priests, a book depot was opened, which did good service for some
years. Evening meetings were also established, but these were attended
almost exclusively by Copts, though occasionally a Moslem would brave
the real danger of being present at a Christian service.
Beside the early morning rides to which reference has been made, which
afforded opportunities for religious conversation, Miss Whately would
occasionally stay for a week or two at some farmhouse or by the seaside,
and find opportunities of teaching the people around something of the
Gospel. The following is an incident connected with this work in the
country: "At an open spot just outside the village a barber was shaving
a peasant's head, and, as usual, a group were assembled near him
chatting and smoking. Mr. Shakoor took advantage of this and resolved
to join the party of men, and get into conversation, while I went a
little further in search of some women. I soon found four or five with
some little girls, all sitting upon a dust-heap! They looked very dirty,
as well they might, but I remembered 'who can raise up the beggar from
the dung-hill and make him to sit among princes.' I saluted the poor
women in a friendly way, and though looking astonished they replied
civilly. After a little chat and a few questions on both sides, I asked
if they had ever heard about our first parents, Adam and Eve, and how
sin came into the world. They just knew the names, but no more, and were
pleased to listen while I related the story. Before I had finished, an
old woman who had come up interrupted me. A young man who was standing
near and listening, desired her not to interrupt the lady, for he could
see she was learned, and 'thou art ignorant,' he added, with more truth
than politeness. 'But you are not well placed here,' he said, pointing
to the heap on which they were seated. 'Come to the roof of my house, my
mother will show you the way, and these women can come too if they
like.' I acceded to this courteous invitation, and followed the mother
and son up the mud-brick steps leading to the rude terrace; and though
anything but clean, it was a great improvement on what we had left, and
with genuine kindliness the old woman brought out an old but
well-preserved carpet and spread it for me. The others had followed, and
sat round to hear what the stranger could have to read to them. They
really seemed interested, though sometimes interrupting me with remarks
not at all to the purpose. I managed to bring them back to the stories I
read, of course choosing the simplest possible, and trying to explain a
little as we went." [1]
[Footnote 1: _Among the Huts_, pp. 181-184.]
Miss Whately would occasionally make an excursion into the desert,
making the acquaintance of the wild Bedouin tribes, and reading to them
the Scriptures. "Lady," once said a Bedouin, lifting the curtain of a
tent in which she and her sister were seated, "I saw your horse at the
water, and my comrade and I are come to hear some of your book." They
listened attentively while she read to them the ninth chapter of
John's Gospel.
An important part of her work was the missionary tours which she made
each year in the winter or early spring. The first of these journeys was
in 1861, the last within a few weeks of her death. The spiritual
condition of those she visited is thus described by Miss Whately: "The
mass of the peasants are little, if at all, different from what they
were in the days of Pharaoh. Instead of praying to gods of stone and
revering brutes, it is true they now call on the Almighty, but know
scarcely anything about Him, neither His Word nor His laws. Much of the
religion of the _fellah_ consists in prostrations, and his _spontaneous_
prayers are usually invocations to dead men, as we see with Nile boatmen
and other labourers; when in a fatiguing work, they call on the 'Lord
Hosseen or Zeid,' &c. to 'stretch out a hand and help.' Buffaloes and
sheep are frequently sacrified at the shrines of sheiks of reputed
sanctity, or at the mosque dedicated to Lady Zeynab. A pilgrimage to
Mecca and the performance of certain ceremonies there are supposed to
cleanse the pilgrim from sin. The Copts (who form the minority of the
population) have always preserved their veneration for Scripture, but
neglected it, and were extremely ignorant, till in some degree aroused
by the efforts of missionaries to seek more after education, and to read
more of the Word of God." She proceeds thus to describe the work among
these people: "On our yearly Nile excursion we had great cause for
encouragement, both among the Copts and the far more numerous Moslems.
The coast of the river is dotted with numbers of villages--some almost
large enough to be considered towns, boasting a few houses with windows,
a mosque, and a small primitive school; others are mere hamlets,
consisting of mud huts crowded closely together, and built in and out of
the palm-trees. We brought to several of these places both medicine for
the sick and books for those who desired them, and were heartily
welcomed as the peasants' friends; indeed every year the welcome grows
warmer. Dr. Azury, the skilful medical man of the Mission, has always
numerous patients; and after their bodily ailments have been attended
to, they and their friends and neighbours assemble on the shore to hear
him read from the Bible. Mrs. Shakoor and myself are at the same time
occupied in visiting the poor women in their homes or in reading and
speaking to troops of both men and women in the open air. When we are
going to leave, the boat is besieged by men and lads asking for Bibles
or portions of Scripture, which are given to those only who can read.
The last sight as we sail away is often that of a circle gathered round
one who reads aloud to those who cannot read for themselves." [1]
[Footnote 1: _Report of the English-Egyptian Mission_ for 1887.]
V.
PROGRESS OF THE SCHOOLS.
The boys' school, which had begun with a few ragged Moslem children in a
room which was little better than a stable, increased rapidly. In 1870
the pupils numbered one hundred and sixty in daily attendance. About
half were Moslems, the rest Copts and Syrians, with one or two little
negro slaves or bronzed Nubians. Many were very poor, but some belonged
to the middle classes, and there were even a few from wealthy families,
who would ride to school on donkeys from distant quarters of the town.
The two brothers Shakoor devoted much of their time to the
superintendence of the school, and taught all the higher branches, being
assisted in writing, spelling, &c., by several native teachers. The
girls' school advanced less rapidly, because of the early marriages,
which usually withdrew the pupils about the age of twelve, and because
girls were more wanted at home than boys. In 1870 there were about a
hundred names on the roll, with an average attendance of seventy
or eighty.
It was long Miss Whately's desire to acquire a piece of land on which to
build suitable school premises. Her desire was gratified when in 1869
the Khedive, Ismail Pasha, at the kind suggestion of the Prince of
Wales, made her a grant of the freehold of nearly an acre of land, just
outside the old wall of Cairo, the only condition being that the
building erected on it should have a handsome front, as it would face a
main road. Considerable delay was experienced in getting the necessary
papers for making the possession secure, and it was not till 1871 that
the building was erected. Mansoor Shakoor, who had considerable
knowledge of architecture, designed it, and superintended all the
details of its erection. By its side, and separated from it only by a
garden, Miss Whately put up a house for herself, that she might be
always close to her work. About one fourth of the cost was contributed
by those who in Cairo and in England took an interest in the work of the
school, but Miss Whately herself contributed the remainder of the
outlay, amounting to about four thousand pounds.[1]
[Footnote: 1 Letter from Mary L. Whately, _The Christian_, June 15,
1882.]
In consequence of the extension of the work, and because this large
outlay had seriously diminished her resources, Miss Whately depended
largely on the gifts of others for means to carry on her work. After the
addition of a medical mission in 1879, the expenses of the work amounted
to some £1200 or £1300 a year, a sum which, of course, it was quite out
of her power personally to provide. £200 of this was derived from an
annual grant from the Egyptian, Government, and about £150 from paying
pupils, while occasionally grants were received from several English
societies. The new schools soon became one of the "sights" of Cairo, and
the English and American tourists who visited them contributed
considerably to the funds, while the rest of the money required was
collected in England, mainly through the efforts of members of Miss
Whately's family and the honorary secretary of her English committee.
But the difficulty of securing sufficient funds to carry on her work
efficiently was always one of Mary Whately's chief burdens, and she was
often obliged to make up deficiencies herself. During her occasional
visits to England, which latterly occurred only once in two or three
years, she was largely occupied in addressing public and drawing-room
meetings on behalf of her work.
But to return. The new school buildings were opened in January 1872.
"All the friends and acquaintances who took any interest in education,
whether natives or Europeans, were invited to be present. The school
hall, a large and beautiful room, though very simple and without any
architectural ornaments, was adorned for the occasion with wreaths of
green leaves, berries, and flowers, such as an Egyptian winter offers in
abundance; and a table spread in an inner room with fruit and sweets to
regale the children, while coffee and sherbet were handed among the
visitors. Mr. Shakoor then spoke to the parents and friends of the
scholars, telling them how the building had been made for God's glory
and the good of the children in time and in eternity, and that with a
good secular education the knowledge of God's revealed Word in the Old
and New Testament was given to all of them." [1] Four months later
Mansoor Shakoor died, an irreparable loss to the mission, and four years
later his brother Yousif followed him.
[Footnote 1: _Life of Mansoor Shakoor,_ p. 98.]
From the opening of the new buildings the schools advanced rapidly. It
was soon found that the simple teaching of reading and writing to the
boys would not attract scholars, but to secure the advantage of
instruction in English and French, geography, history, and accounts,
many parents would send their boys, who were thus brought under
Christian influence. The extent to which this prevailed may be judged
from the testimony of the schoolmaster, that "of the boys brought up
under his tuition, not one had, so far as he could find, taken more than
one wife," which showed a great breaking away from the traditions of
Mohammedanism.[1]
[Footnote 1: _The Christian_, June 29, 1888.]
The girls received a simpler education, but with both boys and girls the
daily reading and explanation of the Scriptures in Arabic held a
prominent position, the Bible being the principal reading book in use.
"Nor is the teaching of those things that concern salvation confined
strictly to the time spent in reading Scripture. A few questions, or a
remark in the course of a secular lesson, often shows them what is the
most important of all matters in our minds. Nothing positively
controversial is taught; that is to say, no contemptuous expressions
about the religion of any of the children are allowed, and the plainest
truths of the Gospel specially set forward; but occasionally something
comes into the lesson which shows to an intelligent learner the vanity
of the superstitions around them." [1]
[Footnote 1: _Among the Huts_, p. 116.]
The policy of employing Egyptians or Syrians as teachers was frequently
challenged by people in England, and vigorously defended by Miss
Whately. "The schools are under my personal superintendence," she wrote
in 1885, "receiving not only daily supervision, but examination from me,
and I never gave up the teaching of any part of Scripture into other
hands, until I had truly converted as well as educated teachers as
assistants." [1]
[Footnote 1:_The Times_, Aug. 15, 1885.]
In 1879 pupils had to be refused for want of room, and from that time
till her death the scholars numbered nearly seven hundred.
The period of the Arabi rebellion in 1882 was a severe testing time.
Though deliverance came at the eleventh hour, and Cairo was spared, "the
inhabitants," writes Miss Whately in her report for that year, "lived
for months in a sickening anxiety which can hardly be realized by those
who only know the general facts from the papers." Not only Jews and
Christians, but Moslems who remained faithful to the Khedive were
threatened with torture and death. Miss Whately stayed at her post long
after nearly all the Europeans had fled, and only left when the English
Consul informed her that he would be no longer responsible for her
safety. "The superintendent of the Mission Boys' School remained in
Cairo at great personal risk, to keep things together as much as
possible. The schools were not closed till the bombardment of
Alexandria, when the excited mobs in the streets made it unfit for
children to be abroad, and it soon afterwards was necessary to take away
the board with the notice of the 'British Schools,' &c." The school
buildings were used as a refuge for the homeless and persecuted, both
foreigners and Egyptians. A list of buildings doomed to pillage included
the Mission House. "The second day after the entrance of the victorious
army, the superintendent opened the school. The pupils flocked back by
degrees. At first some of the children of _Arabists_ hung back, but
began to follow the rest after a time." Miss Whately had the joy of
knowing that in the time of extremest danger many young Coptic girls,
formerly her pupils, when urged to pretend to turn Moslems to save their
lives, had replied, "No! if we die, we die in the faith of the
Messiah." [1]
[Footnote 1:_Report of English Egyptian Mission for_ 1882.]
Yet the same year a night school for youths of the better classes was
established. Several years previously Miss E.J. Whately had founded in
connection with the school a branch for the education of the children of
European parents in Cairo. After the rebellion these were much less
numerous, and the branch, henceforth known as the Levantine School, was
chiefly attended by Jewesses, Armenians, Syrians, and others of Eastern
race, who paid for the education they received. Among them it did good
service. Subsequently small branch mission schools were established in
Gizeh and other places.
VI.
THE MEDICAL MISSION.
Sympathy with the sick poor around her for whom no medical aid was
available, early led Mary Whately to dispense simple remedies and
especially to distribute medicine to relieve the terribly prevalent
ophthalmia. In this she attained considerable skill, and though her
nerves were more susceptible than others often thought, she bore bravely
the contact with dirt and the sight of suffering which these labours
entailed. "She loved to relate," says her sister, "what affectionate
gratitude was called out by these acts. The Egyptians are very sensible
to kindness, and she never forgot how a poor mason, whose hand, injured
by the fall of some part of a wall, she had daily dressed, afterwards
recognising her as he passed by her garden railing, saluted her with the
words, 'May Allah ever hold your hand, O lady!' This kindness it was
that won her a way among the poor of the city. In lanes and streets
where she had been met by pelting with dust and cries of 'Cursed
Nazarene!' she was now met by the salutation, 'Blessed be thy hands and
feet, O lady!' or similar words of welcome. 'Sitt Mariam' (literally
Lady Mary) became a household word in many mouths." [1]
[Footnote 1: _Life of Mary L. Whately_, p. 62.]
Miss Whately perceived that medical mission work--of which none whatever
had been attempted in Cairo--would form an excellent introduction to
Christian work among the adult population. In 1878 therefore she engaged
Dr. Azury, a skilful Syrian doctor, who had been trained in the American
Medical College at Beyrout, and who had lately married Mrs. Shakoor's
sister. Almost before the necessary premises could be secured numerous
sufferers applied for treatment. At first a small wooden room was built
by Miss Whately on her premises as a waiting room for the patients and
dispensary for the doctor; and during the first three years over four
thousand patients were cured or relieved, and many operations performed,
some of which restored sight to the blind. In 1881 a suitable building
for this branch of the Mission was erected, containing two airy waiting
rooms, one for women and children and the other for men, a consulting
room in which the doctor saw his patients, and two separate rooms, each
containing a bed or two for the reception of cases that needed constant
care. In the waiting rooms Mary Whately might be found almost any
morning reading the Bible and talking to the patients waiting their
turn to see the doctor. No compulsion was used, but an attentive hearing
was usually obtained, while a psalm or some story from the New Testament
was read and explained. As the same people would often come every day or
two for several weeks, something like continuous teaching could be
given. In this work Mary Whately greatly delighted. In any difficult
case, says a friend (_Sunday at Home_, 1889, p. 406), "'Sitt Mariam'
would take her place in the surgery, ready with a kind word and
practical assistance." An instance of the good done by the mission is
given by the same writer. "A young woman came one day weeping bitterly;
she was one of the wives of a sheik of a village some miles away, and
she was almost blind. Her husband had told her that she was no longer of
use to him, and he should divorce her. She was in a pitiable state of
distress. The doctor, by God's help, was able to cure the poor young
wife completely. She returned to her village in deepest thankfulness,
and was taken back into favour by her lord and master. Some time
afterwards she returned again, this time bringing a tall turbaned man
with her, who proved to be her husband; he was the sufferer this time,
and the good and forgiving wife had persuaded him to come and see the
doctor to whom she owed so much. After some time the man was cured, and
during his bodily treatment we may be sure that his soul was not
forgotten. He showed his gratitude by sending many from his village to
the Medical Mission; so that the seed was sown broadcast."
VII.
LITERARY EFFORTS.
Mary Whately, though she belonged to a book-writing family, aspired to
no literary fame. Her ten books were all the outcome of her work in
Egypt, and were written to awaken interest in it, and in some cases to
secure funds for it. She was, as a girl, the "story-teller" of the
family, and among her companions secured a reputation for her powers of
narration. This gift she turned to good account.
"It was at her father's suggestion and by his advice that her first
book, _Ragged Life in Egypt_, was published. A friend staying in the
house had been reading to him a series of letters Mary had written her,
describing her first settlement for the winter in Cairo, the
commencement of her school, her visits among the poor, etc. He listened
with much pleasure and attention, and on his daughter entering the room
a few minutes afterwards, he said, 'Mary, you ought to publish these
papers!' Her first answer was, 'Oh! people are tired of Egypt! they have
had so many books of travels there and so many details!' 'Yes,' he
rejoined, 'but yours will be new; you have reached a stratum lower than
any foreign visitor has yet done.' This determined her to publish; and
the book was finished and brought out immediately. In 1863 the same
friend read to the Archbishop during his last illness the manuscript of
the second part, _More about Ragged Life in Egypt_. On the morning on
which the reading was finished, he took his gold pen from his pocket,
and giving it to her said, 'I shall never use this again, Mary; take it,
and go on.'" [1]
[Footnote 1: _Life of Mary L. Whately_, pp. 55-57.]
In 1871 she published a further account of Egyptian life and of her
mission work, under the title, _Among the Huts in Egypt_. Meanwhile in
1867 she had contributed to the _Leisure Hour_, and afterwards issued as
a volume, _The Story of a Diamond_. Another story, _Lost in Egypt_, was
written in 1881. In 1873 Miss Whately published a biography of Mansoor
Shakoor, and in 1881 she wrote _Letters from Egypt for Plain Folks at
Home_. In 1878 she published a story called _Unequally Yoked_,
illustrating the miserable lives of English women who have been
persuaded to marry Mohammedans, and in 1872 she wrote _A Glimpse Behind
the Curtain_, a story of life in the harems of Cairo. Her last book
appeared in 1888 with the title, _Peasant Life on the Nile_. With
changed names and in a slightly veiled form, it recounts the history of
some who received spiritual blessing through her mission work. All her
books are written in a simple unaffected style, and reveal an unrivalled
acquaintance with Oriental character and the Egyptian mode of life. Most
of them are illustrated by engravings from her own sketches.
VIII.
RESULTS.
Writing in 1861 Miss Whately said, "The reaping time is not yet." [1] Ten
years later she writes: "It is a missionary's duty to sow beside all
waters, and to lose _no_ opportunity, even if his chance of doing good
be but small. The sower of the seed has need of much patience; and
though he need not actually be _expecting_ and looking for
disappointment, as that would paralyse his efforts for good, he must yet
be prepared for it." [2] In this spirit of patience and perseverance Mary
Whately carried on her work, and though her work was largely pioneering,
she was not without encouragement. Her hand was the first to begin to
break down the wall of ignorance, prejudice, and bigotry which had for
centuries shut in the people of Egypt. She convinced thousands that the
Christian book is a good book, and Christian men and women good people,
despite the evidence to the contrary of so many in Egypt who bear the
Christian name but do not live the Christian life. The sentiments of the
people are leavened by thousands among them who in youth passed through
her schools, and there acquired an acquaintance with Scripture truth.
"Youths employed under Government, on the railways or in mercantile
houses, who have received with the secular education which has secured
their positions, a thorough knowledge of the Bible as its condition,
continually greet her after they have quite outgrown her
recollection." [3] The teachers in later years were chiefly composed of
those who had been pupils in the schools, and of whose conversion she
had no doubt. Thousands of poor sufferers were relieved by the Medical
Mission, thousands of homes made happier by the visits of herself and
her assistants. Many of the Scriptures distributed on her Nile journeys
were kept and read, and found afterwards in most unlikely places.
[Footnote 1: _More about Ragged Life_, p. 199.] [Footnote 2: _Among the
Huts_, p. 151.] [Footnote 3: _Lost in Egypt_, preface.]
In 1870 Miss Whately was able to tell of the first of her scholars of
whose conversion she could feel sure. In 1878 she writes of two little
boys, pupils in her school, who read the Bible at home to their old
nurse, a slave woman, during the illness which terminated in her death.
So simply did she receive the truth, that she declined to see the Mollah
or reader of the Koran, saying, "No, no, I want no one but Him whom the
boys tell me about; the boys' Saviour is my Saviour." [1] In _Peasant
Life on the Nile_ Miss Whately gives several instances of Copts who
through her efforts refused to turn Moslems, and of others who became
Christians in deed and in truth.
[Footnote 1: _Letters from Egypt_, pp. 117, 118.]
Instances of blessing on the work of the Mission might be multiplied.
Nevertheless the difficulty of bringing a Mohammedan to an open avowal
of Christianity always remained extremely great. Converts to
Christianity always incurred the risk of secret poisoning. Yet in the
report for 1888, penned by Miss Whately only a few weeks before her
death, she says, "The seed sown in past years is evidently taking root;"
and the accounts for that year contain the significant entry, "Clothes
for poor convert on his baptism, £2." She also gratefully acknowledged
that the reading of the books of her lending-library, largely supplied
by the Religious Tract Society, had reached more Mohammedans than any
other Christian agency.
IX.
TWILIGHT.
Like the twilight in the land of her adoption, the twilight of Mary
Whately's life was very brief. Her sun went down while it was yet day.
Her last years were among her busiest. She would rise very early, often
watching from her balcony the dawn break, and then would take a ride in
the fresh morning air, or go out into her garden, for, as with her
father, gardening was her delight. After a simple breakfast she would be
usually found in the dispensary by nine o'clock, reading and talking to
the patients. When they had all been cared for, she would teach her
Scripture class in the Levantine school, and afterwards visit the other
schools, or attend to some of her domestic duties. After a short rest in
the heat of the day, the remainder of the afternoon would be occupied
with receiving or paying visits, and the short evening before retiring
early to rest, when free from various forms of mission work, with
painting or reading. When burdened with the difficulties of the work,
she would often exclaim, "Why tarry the wheels of His chariot?" and the
coming of the Lord was ever the object of her lively anticipation.
In the summer of 1888 she paid her last visit to England, taking also a
tour in Switzerland, which she greatly enjoyed. Early in the autumn she
returned to Cairo, where she was joined by her elder sister, who
frequently spent the winter with her. In February she made preparations
for her usual Nile trip. After the boat had been engaged and paid for,
she caught a cold, and was urged to defer the journey; but as this would
have caused extra expense, she declined. The excitement of the work,
which, on account of the doctor being unable through ill health to
accompany her, was unusually heavy, kept her up for the time, but on her
return to Cairo she had to retire to bed. Bronchitis set in, and in a
few days the gravest was feared. A relapse discovered weakness of the
heart, and on the morning of Saturday, March 9, 1889, her spirit fled.
Then was there, as of old, "a grievous mourning" among "the Egyptians."
No need was there to employ professional mourners to make a wailing; the
teachers and scholars, and the hundreds of poor men and women who had
learned to love her, wept aloud for her. Her body was laid to rest in
the English cemetery in Cairo, but she herself rested from her labours
among those of whom she wrote:--
"Oh! they've reached the sunny shore
Over there;
They will never hunger more;
All their pain and grief is o'er;
Over there.
Oh! they've done the weary fight
Over there;
Jesus saved them by His might;
And they walk with Him in white;
Over there."
W.R. Bowman
AGNES JONES[1]
[Footnote 1: The extracts are made, by kind permission of Messrs.
Nisbet & Co., from _Agnes Jones_, by her sister.]
CHAPTER I.
YOUTHFUL DAYS.
A chance visitor to the Liverpool Workhouse on Brownlow Hill might be
lost in wonder at its vastness, as he looked at its streets of large
buildings and was told of its more than four thousand inhabitants. He
would scarcely imagine that those bare-looking groups of buildings
possess an historic interest. Yet to the Christian philanthropist it is
holy ground, for there, in willing sacrifice for others, were spent the
last years of the life of that saintly woman who gave the death-blow to
the old system of pauper nursing and all its attendant evils. But we are
looking at the stream as it enters the limitless ocean of eternity. We
can do that again by-and-by. Let us turn now rather to the beginning of
that stream of life and trace it onwards.
Agnes Elizabeth Jones was born at Cambridge on the 10th of November,
1832, the 12th Regiment, of which her father was the lieutenant-colonel,
having arrived there only a few days before.
When Agnes was about five years of age, her father's regiment, which had
previously been quartered at Cork, was ordered to Mauritius. The
wonderfully varied and beautiful scenery of this little island--a tiny
gem set in the heart of the Indian Ocean--with its curiously shaped
mountains, and tropical trees and plants, made a wonderful impression on
the mind of the child, and although she was only eleven years old when
she left, she always cherished the memory of it.
But it was not only that her mind was roused to a keen appreciation of
the beauties around her during her residence in Mauritius. The higher
part of her nature, chiefly through the faithful teaching of one of the
French pastors on the island, was also touched, and in the young heart
there arose the longing to be safely folded in the arms of the Good
Shepherd. A sentence in one of his sermons haunted her night and
day:--"And now, brethren, if you cannot answer me, how will you at the
last day answer the Great Searcher of hearts?" An arrow shot at a
venture, it pierced her heart, and although she did not yet yield
herself fully to God, she never entirely lost the desire to be His, even
when apparently outwardly indifferent. We may well thank God for His
servant's earnest ministry, for had he been less faithful, the whole
course of that life, which was to prove so valuable in the service of
the Lord, might have been changed.
From Madagascar, five hundred and fifty miles from Mauritius, yet its
next-door neighbour westwards in the silver sea, there came, when Agnes
was yet but seven years old, the tidings of a fearful persecution of the
Christians. The letters received at that time told of indescribably
dreadful sufferings for Christ's sake, and the sight of the Malagasy
refugees who fled to Mauritius, fired her young soul with the desire to
become a missionary. This desire, however, in her exceeding reserve, she
kept to herself. God had other purposes for her, and it was amongst her
own country people, and not in the foreign field, that He called her
to labour.
After the return of her parents from Mauritius, the greater part of four
years was spent in a beautiful spot at the foot of the hills of the
Donegal Highlands on the banks of Lough Swilly, one of the loveliest of
the Irish lakes. This period is spoken of by her sister as one in which
she appeared utterly indifferent to spiritual things, yet some entries
in her journal indicate an intense longing after a higher life. They
certainly show that she knew the sinfulness of her own heart and the
weakness of her resolutions, and that, in common with so many reserved
natures, while hiding the true state of her feelings from others, she
was much given to introspection and inclined to magnify her faults. Such
reserved natures do not "wear their heart on their sleeve," and it
should be a comfort to parents and teachers who are anxiously watching
children to know that "things are not always what they seem," and that
many a child who seems altogether careless is in reality not far from
the kingdom.
In January, 1848, when a little over fifteen, she was sent to school at
Stratford-on-Avon, and remained there until her father's death in 1850.
The good discipline of this school and the wise guidance of her teachers
had a most wholesome effect on the development of her character, and the
steady, indomitable perseverance in the face of difficulties which so
marked her after-life distinguished her then. By her painstaking and
close attention she made up for her want of quickness in learning. Hence
she never forgot what she had once learned.
The actual time of her conversion seems to have been during the period
that she resided with her mother and sister in Dublin. To the earnest
man of God whose ministry they attended, the preparation of the younger
members of his flock for admission to the Lord's Supper was no
perfunctory task. He introduced her, with others of his candidates, to
one of his helpers as "anxious inquirers." So shy and reserved was Agnes
that she said but little, yet this lady remarked of her:--"In the class
her intense appetite for the living bread was so apparent, that I often
felt myself speaking to her only, her calm gentle eyes fixed on me, as
God helped me to speak."
It is impossible for those who have definitely accepted Christ's
salvation, and who truly realise His love to perishing sinners, to be
idlers in His vineyard. We are therefore not surprised to find her soon
at work, her own particular plot being in the ragged school. Her needy
little scholars were a great interest to her. She always showed the
greatest sympathy and devotion to them, and while caring for their souls
did not forget their bodily needs. Even when on a holiday she sought and
found work amongst the poor. Indeed, distress of any kind always
appealed to her heart.
There are some Christians who are very active in the outside world, but
who forget that the first duty of a child of God is to "show piety at
home." It was not so with Agnes Jones, for it was in the home that the
beauty of her life was most visible, and it was in the family circle
that the affection and unselfishness of her character shone most
conspicuously. Others, indeed, could plainly see the development of the
Christ-life in her, but she herself, dwelling as she did in the presence
of her Lord, was prone to judge herself harshly. Thus, with every moment
occupied, she charged herself with being lazy and negligent.
The first step towards the great work of her life was taken while on a
visit to the Continent in 1853. During the May meetings in Paris, there
was one held on behalf of the Oeuvre des Diaconesses, one of the
branches of the Institution at Kaiserswerth on the Rhine, founded by
Pastor Fliedner. This she attended, and was then first made acquainted
with that work, which became of great interest to her, an interest which
was much strengthened by a visit to Kaiserswerth itself about two months
later. "As we drove away," she writes, "my great wish was that this
might not be my last visit to Kaiserwerth.... That visit was, I believe,
a talent committed to our care; may it not be buried."
So full was she of the conviction that by seeing more of the work at
Kaiserswerth she would be the better fitted for her beloved work in
Ireland, that she proposed that she should go there for a week. To her
great joy her mother concurred in the proposal, and earnestly did Agnes
pray that this visit might be blessed and sanctified by God to
His glory.
She was charmed with all that she heard and saw at Kaiserswerth, with
the love which was so manifest in all, with the intensity of purpose,
the perfect obedience, the beautiful order, the incessant work without
fuss or bustle, and above all with the spirit of prayer, which pervaded
the whole institution. Her journals show how strong was her desire to
return there for training, for she believed that "as we use means to fit
us for any earthly profession, so are we bound to use every means which
will enable us to adorn our Christian profession." Her friends, however,
knew nothing of her wishes. They were told only in the ears of her God.
CHAPTER II.
AT WORK IN THE VINEYARD.
For some time after her return from the Continent, Agnes Jones resumed
her former work in Dublin, labouring more energetically than ever. In
1856, however, she and her mother returned to Fahan, the old home on the
shore of Lough Swilly, always a favourite spot with her, not only
because of the beauty of its scenery, but also because her beloved
father was there laid to rest.
To the Christian who is ever on the watch opportunities for service are
never lacking, and Agnes soon found her hands full. Did a child fall
into the fire--a very common accident in that district--she must be
fetched, for so gentle yet so firm was her touch in dressing wounds that
the fame of her skill had spread for miles, and she was sent for from
far and near, to Protestants and Roman Catholics alike. Was some one
dying, still it was she who must come to smooth the pillow and speak the
words of life.
The spiritual side of her work she never lost sight of, but made the
rest subservient to this, as a means to an end, always reading the Bible
if allowed, and following the reading by a simple but practical and
faithful explanation. She was indeed "instant in season" and out of
season. In all weathers she might be seen speeding along the lonely
mountain roads, setting off soon after breakfast, to be at work the
whole day, with the exception of the early dinner-time, and often not
returning until after dark. She was tempted, as every other worker is,
to relax her energies and to stay at home if the weather were bad, or if
she were not feeling well; but instead of yielding, she would, if a bad
headache came on, start off the earlier, that she might not lose the
chance of a visit through the pain increasing. Yet her duties at home
were never neglected. Rather than omit them, she would rise at five,
that she might anticipate the wants of others, and save her
mother trouble.
Agnes herself, in her intense humility, considered that she was an
unsuccessful worker, and was inclined to condemn herself for lack of
zeal and earnestness. But her work was a great joy to her, and
especially did she love her happy talks with some of the aged Christians
amongst the sixty families she regularly visited.
He is a rash soldier who ventures into the battle without a weapon tried
and proved, and he can only be an unsuccessful Christian worker who does
not make the Word of God the rule and guide of his life. To Agnes Jones
the Bible was a constant study. She was a most earnest student of God's
Word, and delighted to meditate upon it. In her journal she
writes:--"What should I be without my Bible?" And again, realising the
truth of the promise, "He that watereth shall be watered also himself,"
she says:--"God's Word often comes home more strongly to my own heart as
I read to the poor, and try to make a few simple remarks." Little wonder
is it that, knowing and loving His Word as she did, Christ was to her a
very personal Saviour and Friend. Her one longing was for more and more
likeness to Him.
CHAPTER III.
FOREIGN TRAINING.
However strong and good our wishes may be, it is never safe to force on
their accomplishment. They are never the losers who wait God's time, and
the wisest course of all is the one which Agnes Jones pursued, of
telling her wishes to God, and then, in perfect submission to His will,
leaving the issue with Him.
It was not until seven years after her visit to Kaiserswerth that the
way was made open for her to return there. This step had been suggested
by her mother five years previously, but the filial spirit was so strong
in her that, although she eagerly desired a more thorough training for
God's service, she felt that her mother stood first, and refused to
leave her alone. Now the case was different, and she gladly seized the
opportunity. Still she was nervously fearful lest after all she should
not be following the guiding pillar.
It was in the autumn of 1860 that she arrived at Kaiserswerth, where she
immediately entered heartily into the work. Her intention was to stay
for only a month, or at the most six weeks; but after she had been there
but a short time, the pastor so strongly represented the great advantage
it would be to her to spend the whole winter in the institution, that
she felt constrained to write for her mother's permission to do so. As
ever, she was full of prayer for God's guidance, and that whatever was
done might be only for His glory. Her mother leaving the choice entirely
with her, she decided to remain, believing that the training would be
of inestimable use to her in her future work.
The Deaconesses' Institution at Kaiserswerth had a very small beginning.
Pastor Fliedner, having heard of Mrs. Fry's work amongst female
prisoners, was filled with longing to follow her example, and received
two discharged prisoners, whose friends had refused them, with the
object of giving them the chance of retrieving their character. He set
them to work under the personal supervision of himself and his wife. The
work soon increased, and assistance was needed. To the penitentiary were
added an orphanage, a training-school, a hospital, and a lunatic asylum.
More and more workers were drawn in, and at the time of Agnes Jones's
first visit there were fifteen branches of the institution in different
parts of the world. This number by the time of her second visit had
increased to fifty.
The deaconesses as novices passed through every department of the work,
and received a thorough training in both nursing and household work, the
pastor wisely considering that if, when in visiting the poor, they could
render them practical help, their words would prove far more effective.
Much was made of Bible study, both public and private, and this, as well
as the _Stille Stunde_ (quiet hour), a half-hour daily set apart for
prayer and meditation, could not but tend to give a spiritual tone to
the whole work. Agnes revelled in all this, and found great happiness in
the daily routine, in spite of much which was, perhaps, somewhat
needless drudgery, such as sweeping and dusting her room, washing up
after meals, and even black-leading stoves. She had, however, well
learned the lesson that no action can be mean to the Christian if it
come in the way of duty. Sometimes, indeed, it seemed a waste of
strength to spend so much of the day in manual work, especially work
which so injured her hands that for some time she was obliged to keep
them poulticed, and was thus unable to assist in the hospital. Still she
was, as she said herself, "as happy as the day is long, and it does not
seem half long enough," in spite of a longing sometimes "for home sights
and voices."
Soon after her arrival at Kaiserswerth, fourteen sick boys were given
into her care for twelve hours a day. This was no easy task,
particularly when she was left in sole charge of them, some being too
far recovered to lie in bed, and needing to be kept at lessons or work.
As the weeks rolled by, her work was changed, and in addition to other
employment, she instructed a number of classes in English, both in the
training-school and among the deaconesses. As for herself, she was daily
becoming more proficient in German, and in a very short time was able
easily to follow the sermon. This was a great enjoyment to her, as she
much valued the truly evangelical teaching at Kaiserswerth.
At the end of three months of steady work, she spent a few days with an
uncle and aunt who were staying at Bonn, but the gay boarding-house life
contrasted so unfavourably with the happy Christian fellowship at
Kaiserswerth, that she was thankful to return to her duties, playfully
writing:--"The nun will not soon again leave her cell, for it was with
very nun-like feelings she met the world again." Yet she was no
misanthrope. She did not bring to God a heart which had tried earth's
pleasures and had found them wanting, nor a life jaded with pursuing
them. From the first, she had cast aside the love of worldly things, and
had chosen to be wholly the Lord's.
During the latter part of her stay at Kaiserswerth, her duties lay
entirely in the hospital. In January she wrote:--"My duties are in the
children's hospital, all ages from two to twelve. It is a new life for
me in a nursery of sick children, and a busy one too, for every moment
they want something done for them."
A month or so later she was appointed superintendent of the boys'
hospital, a post of peculiar responsibility and difficulty. It was one,
too, from which she shrank, holding the mistaken idea that she possessed
no powers of government. Certainly it was a position to tax the
patience, for the children were not too ill to be noisy and disobedient,
or even sometimes to unite in open rebellion, while the task was not
rendered easier by the necessity of speaking in a foreign tongue.
Altogether she had a very busy life. She rose at 5.O A.M. every day, and
kept hard at work, with the exception of the intervals for meals and the
_Stille Stunde_ (quiet hour), until night. "The cleaning and keeping my
dominion in order is such a business," she writes. "Sweeping and washing
the floor of the three rooms every morning, two stoves which must be
black-leaded weekly, each taking an hour, weekly cleaning of windows,
tins, dinner-chests, washing-up of bandages, &c., besides the washing-up
after each of our five meals, keeps one busy." She must have been strong
in those days, for she wrote:--"I come over from the other house every
morning at six, the ground white and windows frozen over; often at three
in the afternoon the water outside is still frozen, yet night or morning
I never put on bonnet or handkerchief, unless when I go out for a walk."
From the first the hospital patients with their varied needs were a
great interest to her. Now it is a dying man, beside whom she has to
watch, longing to minister words of comfort, yet unable to do so,
fearing that her then want of fluency in the language might trouble him
in his weakness. Yet as she heard the poor man's cry, "Lieber Heiland,
hilf mir" (Dear Saviour, help me), her prayers, too, rose for him to the
compassionate Saviour. Now it is a little boy with a bad back, terrible
sores, and a racking cough, who would let no one else touch him. "Every
night," she says, "I used to pray with Otto after they were all in bed,
and he used to put his poor little arm round my neck as I knelt beside
him; but last night (the night before he died) he said of himself, 'I
will only now pray that Jesus may take me to heaven, and that I may soon
die,' and as I had put my face near him to hear, he said, 'Lay your
cheek on mine, it does me so much good.'"
We have seen quite enough of Agnes Jones by this time to know that she
never shrank from a duty, however repulsive. Her love for her Master,
and her desire to serve others for His sake, preserved her from any
fastidiousness. In spite of her sensitive and sympathetic nature she
could bear to witness the most painful operations without flinching, for
she kept before her mind the ultimate good which would accrue from the
present suffering.
One day news reached Kaiserswerth of the deplorable condition of one of
the English hospitals in Syria. Sick and well, it was stated, were
crowded together in a place where rubbish of every kind was thrown, an
insanitary condition anywhere, but especially so in an Eastern climate.
Helpers, they said, were much needed. Agnes longed to step into the
breach, and in a letter to her mother she says:--"The English send
plenty of money, but hands are wanting. It is no new thought with me
that mine are strong and willing; I would gladly offer them. Could my
own mother bear to think of her child for the next few months as in
Syria instead of Germany? It is but temporary, and yet an urgent case.
My favourite motto came last Sunday, 'The Lord hath need;' if He has
need of my mother's permission to her child He will enable her to give
it. This is but the expression of a wish, and if my own mother were to
be made too anxious by the granting it, let it be as if unasked by her
own Agnes."
Her standard of filial obedience was indeed a high one, though no higher
than the standard of God's Word. Before this, in asking permission to
remain longer at Kaiserswerth, she had written to her mother:--"Your
wishes shall be my guide, now and for the future, as long as I am
blessed with such a loving counsellor. I trust my present training in
obedience will not be lost in reference to home."
Although she thought the whole training at Kaiserswerth invaluable she
wrote long after:--"I believe all I owe to Kaiserswerth was comprised in
the lesson of unquestioning obedience." Those who would rule must first
learn to obey, and certain it is that she would never have been fitted
to be afterwards the head of a large institution hundreds to care for
and govern, had she not so truly imbibed the spirit of obedience.
While she had a profound admiration for Kaiserswerth, she could still
see that the life of a deaconess, shielded though it is from the world,
is not exempt from danger. Some fancy that the life of a deaconess, or
of any one similarly set apart, must be much more free from temptation
than that of any ordinary person. "I think," she wrote, "every one is as
much called on as a deaconess is to work for Him who first loved us; but
if this does not constrain us as Christians, neither will it as
deaconesses, and certainly the 'Anstalt' (Institution) is a world in
which the Martha-spirit may be found as well as in the outer world.
There are many most deeply taught Christians here, many whose faces
shine, but I should say, comparing my home life (but few have such a
home) with that of the deaconesses here, I should say that, in many
positions here, there are more, not only daily but hourly temptations."