on her mind, but the way to go to Syria did not seem open, and the Lord
had other work for her. Almost by the same post there arrived two
letters, one from Mrs. Ranyard, so well known as the originator of the
London Bible Mission, suggesting that she should go and help her in the
great work of superintending and training the Bible women, the other
from a philanthropic gentleman, unfolding a plan for a proposed nurses'
home in connection with an infirmary, and asking if she, after a few
months' special training, would become its superintendent. Thus, while
one door was shut, two others unexpectedly opened to her.
But which should she enter? This was the question which she prayerfully
debated. She wished to lay out her life to the best interest for God,
and both schemes had special attractiveness to her; the one, because of
its intensely spiritual work; the other, because of her love for
nursing, and the boundless possibilities for good there might be in
training nurses. She feared, however, that as superintendent of the
nurses' home she might be fettered in more definite Christian work. She
felt she must be left in no uncertainty on this point. In her letter
replying to the gentleman who had written to her, she said:--"You sent
me the ground plan of the building, but I would ask, is its foundation
and corner stone to be Christ and Him crucified, the only Saviour? Is
the Christian training of the nurses to be the primary, and hospital
skill the secondary object? I ask not that all should be of one
Christian denomination, but what I do ask is that Jesus, the God-man,
and His finished work of salvation for all who believe on Him, should be
the basis, and the Bible the book of the institution. If this be your
end and aim, then will I gladly pass through any course of training to
be fitted to help in your work."
Soon after writing this letter she bade farewell to Kaiserswerth. Her
plan was to go first to London to consult with Miss Nightingale and
other friends as to her future. The seven months in Germany had been
most happy ones, and she was ever thankful for the time she had spent
there. She fully saw the great need of Christian training institutions.
In those days the Evangelical Protestant churches, unlike the Romanists,
who for many centuries had largely availed themselves of it, were not
alive to the importance of the ministry of women. There were no
institutions in England where Christian women could be trained to work
for Christ, that work of all others the most important, and some, to
secure the training they longed for, and could not get elsewhere, had
even entered Roman Catholic sisterhoods. Times are changed now, thank
God, and although there is still the need of more, there are many
institutions where Christian women can be thoroughly and efficiently
trained for service of different kinds at home and abroad.
CHAPTER IV.
IN LONDON SLUMS.
As we have already seen, Agnes Jones distrusted her power to rule. This
fact, added to her mother's dislike to her entering a hospital
determined her, for the present at least, to join Mrs. Ranyard in the
work of the Bible Mission, for she knew that while she would be
relieving her friend of some of the burden of her work she would have
ample opportunities of discovering whether she were fitted to govern.
She was soon busy in many ways, in mothers' meetings, Bible classes,
industrial kitchens, dormitories, refuges, and in visiting with the
Bible women. In every department of that varied work she was most
helpful to Mrs. Ranyard, even taking the whole charge of the mission for
two months while the latter was absent in Switzerland. She found her
knowledge of German very useful, and turned it to the best account on
several occasions when she met with German immigrants.
In the narrow courts and lanes of London, unthought of and unheeded by
the busy throng, she found many of the Lord's jewels who, though poor in
this world's goods and sick in body, were yet rich in faith and strong
in soul. One of these, a woman who for thirty-two years had been a
terrible sufferer, would whisper, "Blessed Jesus, in everything
suitable. Just the Saviour suitable for me." Another, whom she several
times mentions in her letters, and to whom she delighted to minister as
a nurse, a poor cripple who had only the use of her thumb, and who from
lying eighteen years in one position had terrible bed-sores, could yet
say, "I am ashamed to talk of my suffering when I think of all Jesus
suffered for me."
[Illustration:]
Her happy work in London was brought to a premature conclusion by a
telegram announcing that her sister was ill of fever in Rome, followed
by another begging her to go to her at once. A journey thither was not
such an easy one then as it is now, but, after arranging all her work so
as to give Mrs. Ranyard as little trouble as possible, Agnes bravely
undertook it. A heavy storm was encountered at Marseilles, where she
embarked for Italy, and this delayed her arrival in Rome, so that on
reaching there she found her sister out of danger. A cousin, however,
who had formed one of the party, had fallen ill of the same fever, and
needed careful nursing, so that she found her hands full, and, as the
recovery of both invalids was slow, she determined to give up her London
work, and devote herself to them.
Some months were spent in Italy; but her strength, which had been
greatly tried by the work in London, again becoming enervated, and her
nursing duties being at an end, she proposed that she should go to
Switzerland and visit the deaconesses' institutions there. This plan she
carried out, and visited several of the Swiss institutions, which she
considered compared unfavourably with Kaiserswerth, both in organisation
and spiritual tone. She visited besides some of those in Germany, and at
Mannedorf had the joy of spending several days with that wonderful woman
of faith, Dorothea Trudel.
All her experience had now gone to prove that her special gift was
hospital work, and on rejoining her mother she definitely laid before
her her wish to devote herself to the work of nursing, and with her
consent entered into a correspondence with Miss Nightingale with the
idea of entering St. Thomas's Hospital as a Nightingale probationer.
It is very clear that all through her life she was satisfied to be doing
the "next thing," whatever that next thing should be which was pointed
out to her by the guiding of God's Holy Spirit. She never ran counter to
her mother's wishes, knowing that no blessing could be expected when the
command, "Honour thy father and thy mother," was not observed; but when
home no longer needed her, she was glad to enter the larger field to
which God had opened the way.
CHAPTER V.
HOSPITAL WARDS.
It has been said that "every woman is by nature more or less a nurse,"
but like most sayings it is by no means always true. Many who possess
the gentleness and sympathy which are so necessary in nursing the sick,
yet lack the ready nerve, deftness, and promptitude. Who has not beheld
the sad spectacle of women anxious to help, yet helpless because of
their ignorance and want of training? That will be a happy day when a
course of training in nursing, though it be but a short one, is
considered a necessary part of every woman's education. Miss Nightingale
truly says, "There is no such thing as amateur nursing ... Three-fourths
of the whole mischief in women's lives arises from their excepting
themselves from the rule of training considered needful for man."
Agnes Jones was a "born nurse;" but although she had had many
opportunities both at Fahan and at Kaiserswerth of developing her
talent, she would not attempt to teach others what she had not
thoroughly grasped herself. The post in Liverpool, of Superintendent of
the Training School of Nurses for the Poor, was still open to her and,
in spite of her fear that she lacked the capacity to govern, had many
attractions for her, and so she said, "I determined at least to try, to
come to St. Thomas's Hospital, and to see whether in so great a work as
that of training true-hearted, God-fearing nurses, there were not some
niche for me. If every one shrinks back because incompetent, who will
ever do anything? 'Lord, here am I, send me.'"
Let no one think that the resolve cost her nothing. As a matter of fact
it meant giving up a great deal, but to follow in the steps of Him who
freely gave up all for us, she cheerfully surrendered her lovely Irish
home for the dreary walls of a London hospital, where her companions
were, as a rule, neither Christians in the true sense of the word, nor
her equals in society. Yet who that knows the Lord Jesus as "a living
bright reality" can talk of sacrifice? To know the need of the Lord's
poor was sufficient for her, and she counted nothing too much to give up
joyfully for Him and His. Nor was this choice, which she felt to be a
life-choice, a thought but of yesterday. Not long after she went to
Kaiserswerth she had, as she herself writes, "much watching of a poor
dying man; sitting alone by him in that little room, day after day, it
went to my heart to hear some of his requests refused, and to see the
food given him, so unfitted to his state. And I sat there and thought,
'If these be the trials of the sick in an institution conducted on
Christian principles, oh, how must it be in those institutions in our
own land, where no true charity is in the hearts of most of the heads or
hands that work them!' and I then and there dedicated myself to do what
I could for Ireland, in its workhouses, infirmaries, and hospitals." She
felt too, that although she could do good service for her Lord in
ordinary Christian work, she could do still better if, possessing as she
did a God-given talent for nursing, she could, like her Master, both
speak a "word in season" and minister to the needs of the body.
So St. Thomas's was entered, entered with the hope and prayer that both
amongst nurses and patients God would use her. And use her He did, as He
does all who cry, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me do?" and then watch for
the opportunity to do it. It was not long before she sought and gained
permission to establish a Bible class for the other Nightingale nurses,
which proved a great blessing to several of them. In her ward, too, she
was often able to speak a word for Christ to the patients.
She was very happy in her busy life, writing, "I am so growingly happy
in it, and so fond of nay work." Of its importance she became more and
more convinced, and in a letter written from Barnet, where she was
spending a few happy days with her friends, Mr. and Mrs. Pennefather,
she says:--"_My work_, I more and more feel it, for the worst things
only make me realise how Christian and really good nurses are needed."
But it was to Ireland that her thoughts ever turned, and it was of work
in Ireland that she was thinking even while training in London For by
this very training she hoped to be the better fitted for work in her own
beloved country. "Ireland is ever my bourn," she wrote. And again:--"My
heart is ever in Ireland, where I hope ultimately to work."
After a year at St. Thomas's, and a short visit home, she returned to
London to take the superintendence of a small hospital in connection
with the Deaconesses' Institution in Burton Crescent. Here she had all
the nursing to do, as there were but few patients, and she had great joy
in ministering to them. "I trust," she writes in a letter to her aunt,
"I am gaining a quiet influence with my patients; they are my great
pleasure." And again: "I am very happy here among my patients, and often
feel God has sent me here; I have two revival patients; one had found
peace before she came, the other is seeking it, and to both I can talk.
Then I have a poor woman with cancer, who likes me to speak of Jesus,
whom I believe she truly loves; so you see I am not without work."
A short time at this hospital, and a few months as superintendent at the
Great Northern Hospital, ended her work in London. The work at the
latter tried her much both in body and mind, for not only did the whole
responsibility of it rest upon her shoulders, but owing to the
inexperience of her assistants, most of the nursing devolved on her as
well. One patient who was critically ill she was obliged for six weeks
to nurse entirely both by night and day. Nervous debility was the
natural consequence of such overwork, and a deafness from which she had
suffered at Kaiserswerth so much increased that the doctor ordered her
to rest. That was not immediately possible, as there was no one to take
her place, and when at last a successor had been found, and she was able
to return home, she was so weary both in body and mind that she failed
to find her usual delight in the loveliness of Fahan. A few weeks' stay,
however, in the bracing air near the Giant's Causeway restored her to
her wonted health.
The winter was passed at her home, resting quietly in preparation for
the work in Liverpool, of which the offer has been already mentioned. In
the spring of 1865 she left for ever the old familiar spot with its
beautiful hills and glens, and its cottages, to many of whose inmates
she had been the means of bringing comfort and peace; Liverpool, with
its needy poor and its many difficult problems, claiming her for the
last three years of her life.
CHAPTER VI.
AMONGST THE PAUPERS.
In the year 1698, William III. stated in a speech that:--"Workhouses,
under a prudent and good management, will answer all the ends of charity
to the poor, in regard to their souls and bodies; they may be made,
properly speaking, nurseries for religion, virtue, and industry." But
could the good king who anticipated so many advantages from workhouses
have only seen our poor law institutions a hundred and fifty or sixty
years later, he would have been pained to learn how far they had fallen
short of his sanguine expectations. The sick and helpless were entrusted
to the care of women who, being paupers themselves, and of a low class,
and being for the most part in the workhouse through loss of character,
were found to be almost incapable of training. Rough they were, and in
many cases brutal as well, while their roughness and brutality were
intensified by the free use of intoxicants. Their language was terrible,
and not only did they quarrel constantly amongst themselves, but fights
were of frequent occurrence.
To endure such treatment and to witness such scenes was the daily lot of
a sick pauper, who knew also that when dead he would have little better
than the burial of a dog, since it was the common custom in many
workhouses to bury corpses naked, with no covering but a few shavings
thrown over the body. Little wonder was it that the poor, when overtaken
by age or disease, shrank from the thought of entering a place which to
them seemed worse than a prison, choosing rather to die without
attention than to be treated in such a barbarous manner.
It seems strange that it was so long after a great reformation had been
wrought in the management of our prisons that any one was found to lift
up a voice in behalf of the much enduring inmates of our workhouses.
There seemed to be no one who could spare a thought for the thousands of
sick and poor in these institutions. But it was the old story of "out of
sight, out of mind," for if only the evil had been apparent our English
nation with its love of justice would have seen it righted long before.
Workhouses were to be found all over the land, yet the public seemed not
at all curious, much less interested, in the question whether they were
properly managed or not. The guardians were often ignorant men, and were
very slow to admit visitors, perhaps from a foreshadowing suspicion of
the exposure which was in store for them, and the consequent necessity
and expense of change, so that we need not wonder that the opposition
which was called forth when first the evils of the workhouse system were
exposed was tremendous, and that the task of awakening real interest
seemed well nigh hopeless.
In the Liverpool Workhouse the state of things was no worse than in many
others, and in many respects it was not so bad. There was a good
committee, and therefore there was nothing like the wholesale starvation
and cruelty which existed in too many other workhouses There was also
some measure of thoughtful care for the sick ones, for Agnes Jones in a
letter written after her first visit, says:--"There seemed care for the
patients too; a few plants and flowers, _Illustrated News_ pictures on
the walls, and a 'silent comforter' in each ward, not the utterly
desolate look one often meets in such places." Still, there were no
trained nurses, and it was impossible for any committee, however
zealous, to counteract all the evils of pauper nursing. The need for
reform was great, and happily for Liverpool and for the country at
large, there were not only eyes to see the need, but a mind which had
grasped the only solution of the difficulty, and a large and sympathetic
heart which prompted the hand to open wide the purse to accomplish it,
for Mr. William Rathbone, ever foremost in all schemes for ameliorating
the condition of the poor and needy, had long been alive to the
necessity of substituting for pauper nurses trained paid ones. He it was
who not only suggested the change, but offered himself to bear the whole
expense of the scheme for three years, feeling assured that by that time
the guardians would be so convinced of its practical good that they
would adopt it permanently.
Having obtained the committee's consent to the trial of his plan, Mr.
Rathbone offered the post of lady superintendent to Agnes Jones, then at
the Great Northern Hospital in London. After consultation with Miss
Nightingale and Mrs. Wardroper, the Lady Superintendent of St. Thomas's
Hospital, and receiving their approval and also the promise of twelve
Nightingale nurses from St. Thomas's for her staff, she accepted it.
Still there was a delay of some months, which was partly due to the
nurses' need of further training, and partly to the imperative necessity
that she should have entire rest in order to recruit the strength which
had been so sorely overtaxed at the Great Northern Hospital. She did not
therefore enter on her duties until March 31, 1865. Even then she began
her new and untried work in much trembling and with great distrust of
herself, though her trust in her Saviour never failed. "It often seems
strange," she wrote, "that I, who have so little self-reliance, and
would like every step directed, am obliged to take such an independent
position; and yet I have been so led that I could not help it, and I
only trust I may be more and more led to look to the guidance of the
ever-present and all-wise Heavenly Friend."
After her arrival she was still obliged to wait some weeks for the
advent of her staff, consisting of twelve Nightingale nurses and four
probationers. But although she was not yet in possession of the reins of
government, and so was debarred from doing anything in the way of
nursing, she was yet allowed free access to the wards, being only
prohibited to speak on religion to the Roman Catholic patients. So the
intervening time was not lost, for she found many opportunities of
bringing cheer and comfort to sad and weary hearts and of pointing lost
ones to the sinner's Saviour. Agnes Jones was not one of those who
are always
"Seeking for some great thing to do,"
and ignoring the many small opportunities of service which lie ready to
hand. She was quite content, since the larger field was not yet open to
her, to occupy a smaller one. In a letter to her aunt she wrote very
characteristically:--"I am trying and succeeding more and more in fixing
my eyes on all the little things we shall be able to do. I believe in
this is our safety, doing the daily _littles_ as opportunity is given,
and leaving the issue with God. It is the _individual_ influence we
shall have, the individual relief and the individual help for mind and
body, that will be ours. If it is His will, He can make others see the
many littles as one great whole, or they may see nothing done, while we
have the comfort of the littles we know have been done."
The nurses and probationers arrived in the middle of May, and then work
began in good earnest. The post of lady superintendent was by no means a
sinecure. At 5.30 every morning she might have been seen unlocking the
doors for the kitchen-women. She was often round the wards at 6.0, and
all through the busy day until 11.0 at night she was kept fully
employed, giving out stores, superintending her nurses, presiding at
meals, and visiting patients, besides all the hundred-and-one duties and
calls which fall to one in the like position. Her unselfishness was as
conspicuous as ever, and she never thought of sparing herself in any
way, her joy being to make the lives of others bright and happy.
The patients were quick to discover the benefits of the new _régime_.
Instead of the old system of roughness and neglect, they found now a
very different order of things, as nurses, perfectly trained, with soft
voice and gentle footfall, passed from bed to bed, ministering to the
sick and dying. Interesting and helpful books for those who were well
enough to read found their way into the wards. Flowers--for Agnes
Jones, who loved intensely all God's works in Nature, had great faith in
the ministry of flowers--were there to give brightness in the midst of
depressing surroundings. Visits from friends were rendered more easy.
Christmas was made happy with special festivities. Indeed, she seemed
always to be planning something to cheer the sick under her care. She
very soon began Sunday evening Bible readings in the wards where there
were only Protestant patients. Many crowded in, even Romanists, whom she
was not allowed to invite, and listened with rapt attention, the
late-comers slipping off their shoes, lest they should disturb her.
After nearly two years' work, she commenced daily evening Bible
readings, having an attendance of from twenty to thirty, while on the
Sunday evening there were often more than a hundred.
It was no wonder that such devotion met with a ready response from the
sad and friendless, and that her loving sympathy evoked love from the
seemingly unloving.
Let us follow her as she passes through the wards. A thorough lady,
quiet and self-possessed, she commands respect from even the roughest,
and all look up with eager expectancy, hoping for just one word from
her. Here is an old man, whose brightening face shows how welcome are
her visits. As she stops we hear him murmur, "I never had a friend in
all my life till I came here. You are my only friend." Another, who is
drawing very near to the gates of death, taking her hand in his,
says:--"I want to take leave of you--I never told you before, but do you
remember speaking of the 'Gift of God is eternal life through Jesus
Christ our Lord?' I got that gift then." And when she has gone, a poor
man may be heard saying to the nurse:--"The lady can never know what she
has done for me ... I think I am in heaven when she comes."
Her nurses were thoroughly one with her. How could they be otherwise
when she was so thoughtful and considerate for them? Before introducing
them to their wards, she commended them to God in prayer, asking His
blessing on them and their work. She had a Bible reading for them, but,
not content with speaking to them collectively, she would frequently
talk to them individually of the Saviour she so loved. Although she
never passed over their faults, they were sure of her ready sympathy in
their troubles, and as they poured them into her ear she would say,
"Have you told Jesus so?"
The success of the work was an astonishment to all. The patients could
at first scarcely understand why the nurses did not swear at them like
their former ones. The police wondered as they saw women able to deal
with those whom they had found utterly untameable; while the committee
were so pleased with the success of the experiment, that, a year before
the specified time, they decided permanently to adopt the system of
trained nurses.
But such work was not without its trials. During the first year there
was great difficulty with the ex-pauper women who were being trained,
many who seemed to be doing well returning to their drunken habits.
Dirt, disorder, insubordination, and grumbling had to be contended with.
The vilest sins were practised even by children, and so shameful was the
conduct of many of the inmates that Agnes Jones said, "I can only
compare it to Sodom, and wonder how God stays His hand from smiting."
The isolation from home and friends was a trial in itself, while her
anxiety about her work was so great that she scarcely allowed herself a
holiday. A further trouble was that from morning till night she was
never alone. It is small cause for wonder that with such a terrible
strain, overtaxed nerves and strength should result in depression, a
fact only revealed by her journals, for to others she was ever bright,
and it was often said of her, "She is like a sunbeam."
A life lived at high pressure cannot long continue without failing
partly or altogether, and the end came at last. In the beginning of 1868
there was much fever and sickness of various kinds, there being three
hundred patients above the normal number, while the nursing staff was
reduced by illness. A nurse, who had been ill with bronchitis, developed
symptoms of typhus, and Agnes Jones, fearing that her life might be
sacrified, were she removed to the fever wards, gave up her bedroom to
her, sleeping herself on the floor of her sitting-room. She was soon
attacked by the same disease. For a week she progressed very favourably.
Then dangerous symptoms showed themselves, and finally inflammation of
both lungs.
Many were the touching inquiries from the patients of "How is the lady?"
Nurses and friends watched anxiously the terrible progress of the
disease. Much prayer was made, but the Lord had need of His servant, who
had been so faithful to the trust committed to her here, for a more
perfect service; and at the age of thirty-five she passed away
peacefully into the brightness of His presence in the early morning of
February 19, 1868, the beginning to her of a glorious day which should
know no twilight gloom.
On the following Friday, when the coffin was carried into the hall, and
placed in its case ready for removal across the Irish Channel, the
landing and stairs were filled with patients who had crept there from
the wards to see the last of one who had brought so much happiness into
their wretched lives. And when she was carried to her last resting-place
in the picturesque churchyard of Fahan, within sound of the rippling
waters of Lough Swilly, she was followed, as was fitting, by nearly the
whole population, many of whom could thank God for blessing which she
had been the means of bringing to them.
Until the resurrection morning she might be hidden from the eyes of
those who loved her; but none who knew her could ever forget her. Hear
the testimony of one of the workhouse officials to the writer, more than
twenty-five years after, when the question, "Do you remember Miss
Jones?" was asked. "Remember her? I should think I do. I could never
forget her. She used to have a Bible class on Sunday afternoons and on a
week-day evening in that little vestry belonging to the church. She
began it for the nurses, but there were only about fifteen of them then,
and so she used to let us officers go as well if we liked. I used to
love it, for it was beautiful to see her sitting there so homely and
nice, and then she used to pray with us and expound the Scriptures. Oh,
it was a real help, I can tell you! But it was a wonder to me how she
lived those last few weeks of her life. You see the cholera broke out,
and there was a lot of fever besides, typhus and different sorts, and
she could never rest for looking after and caring for them all. Why,
I've seen her in those wards there myself between two and three o'clock
in the morning. Ah! she was a Christian, she was. Saint was the word for
her, for if ever there was a saint upon this earth, it was Miss Jones.
She seemed to me to live in heaven, and heaven was in her and about her
and all around her."
"Only a tender love,
Stilling the restless moan,
Soothing the sufferer,
Cheering the lone.
* * * * *
Only a woman's heart;
Yet she forgot her care,
Finding on every side
Burdens to bear.
* * * * *
Humbly she walked with God,
Listening to catch His voice,
And 'twas His work for her,
Not her own choice.
And when that work was done,
Life's quiet evening come,
What then awaited her?
Only a tomb?
Nay, but a mansion fair
Near to the great white throne,
And the dear Master's word
Saying, 'Well done.'"
ELLEN L. COURTENAY.
ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF GORDON.
I.
EARLY DAYS.
Just a hundred years ago there was born one who in a marked degree
endeavoured to do her duty in that state of life to which it had pleased
God to call her. That state of life was a very exalted one, with many
opportunities of doing good. The Duchess of Gordon had many talents
given to her for improvement, and she was not unmindful of the
stewardship with which she was entrusted. Her rank and wealth were held
as trusts for her Master's use.
Dr. Moody Stuart tells us in his interesting and graphic memoir of the
last Duchess of Gordon[1], from which the following incidents are taken
(by kind permission of both author and publishers), that Elizabeth
Brodie was born in London on the 20th of June, 1794. Her father was
Alexander Brodie, a younger son of Brodie of that ilk. Amongst her
ancestors there were many remarkable men, some remembered for their
faithful service of their heavenly as well as of their earthly King. The
memory of one has passed down to posterity in the phrase "the Good Lord
Brodie." His diaries reveal a life lived in great humility and special
nearness to his Lord. Those around him found in him not only a
benevolent neighbour but also a faithful instructor in the highest
learning. His delight was to visit the sick, and to declare the love of
Christ whenever he had the opportunity. He longed for his children to be
great in grace, rather than in worldly distinction. His wish for them is
expressed in the words he left on record, that he would not be detained
"one hour from glory, to see those come of him in chief honour and place
in the world."
[Footnote 1: _Life and Letters of Elizabeth, last Duchess of Gordon_, by
Rev. A. Moody Stuart, D.D. Messrs. J. Nisbet & Co., London.]
The mother of Elizabeth Brodie was a member of the family of Wemyss, a
granddaughter of the Earl of Wemyss. Her father had acquired a large
fortune in India, and returned home to the large estates in
Kincardineshire which he had purchased. The little girl had soon to
experience the greatest loss that can befall a child. When she was only
six years old her mother died, leaving her alone with her father. The
next two years were spent with maiden aunts at Elgin, where she enjoyed
a liberty which was bracing to both mind and body. School life began
early. When she was only eight years old, she was sent to a boarding
school in London, one special object being to eradicate the broad Scotch
from her lip and thought. At school she became a great favourite with
both teacher and companions, already exercising that power of winning
attachment which was a feature all through her life. At the same time
she is described as having "a very independent spirit." In matters
indifferent she was ever yielding in her disposition; but it was
impossible to move her from any principle she had deliberately adopted.
Courage was another characteristic that early manifested itself. Her
groom, who had served her forty years, delighted to recall instances of
her fearlessness. On one occasion, when her party were crossing the Spey
in a pony-chaise in a boat, the bridge having been carried down by the
floods, her companion asked, "Isn't this dangerous, duchess?" "I never
see danger," was the quiet reply.
When she was about sixteen Miss Brodie left school. The winters were now
spent in Bath, the summers in Scotland. She had launched into the
society of the world, and to a great extent she did as they did. One
reproof she received made a lasting impression. It was from the lips of
a little child who was exceedingly fond of her. Miss Brodie had joined
others in playing cards on the Sabbath. The next day, contrary to all
custom, the child kept away from her, and when asked to sit on her knee,
gave a flat refusal, adding the reason, "No, you are bad; you play cards
on Sunday." Her answer and resolution were ready: "I was wrong, I will
not do it again." And those who heard her and knew her character were
quite sure she would not do it again.
II.
MARCHIONESS OF HUNTLY.
Elizabeth Brodie was still very young when she entered upon the duties
and trials of married life. Between the house of Brodie and the house of
Gordon there had been a standing feud. About the middle of the
seventeenth century the youthful and impetuous Lord Lewis Gordon had
made a raid upon the property of the Laird of Brodie. He burned to the
ground the mansion and all that was connected with it, the family
escaping to the house of a cousin. This Lewis Gordon became third
Marquis of Huntly, and was the ancestor of one who made a better
conquest, the gallant Marquis of Huntly, who sought and won the hand of
Miss Brodie. They were married at Bath on the 11th of December, 1813.
The union thus formed was never afterwards regretted. When, fifteen
years later, he experienced great losses of property, his sorrow found
expression in these words, "All things are against me: I've been
unfortunate in everything, except a good wife." What that wife did for
him in spiritual as well as temporal comfort, the sequel will show.
The Marquis of Huntly was a thorough man of the world at the time of his
marriage. And for a time his wife joined him in the fashionable circle
in which he found his chief pleasure. Both in London and in Geneva,
where they spent the greater part of the first portion of their married
life, she became very popular. But she soon realised that true joys were
not to be found in the mere attractions of society. For some years her
life cannot be described otherwise than as unprofitable. One instrument
used by God for her awakening was a Highland servant. This girl was
grieved to see that the interest of her mistress was absorbed by the
things of time, which left no room for the contemplation of the things
of eternity. She ventured to make a wise and well-weighed remark. It was
a word fitly spoken, and did not fail in its purpose. The young lady's
eyes were further opened by what she saw of the sins of the worldly
circle in which she moved. She began to realise the sentiment of her
ancestor, the good Lord Brodie:--"God can make use of poison to expel
poison: in London I saw much vanity, lightness, and wantonness." His
aspiration was also soon echoed from her own heart--"Oh, that the seeing
of it in others may cure and mortify the seeds of it in myself!" She
could not help observing the shameless vice that passed unrebuked, by
many hardly noticed. The observation gave a shock to her sensitive soul.
Her distress was great, and in her distress she turned to the right
quarter. She sought solace in the Bible. That hitherto neglected Book
enchained her attention, and she became a most diligent searcher into
its hidden truths. Some of the gay friends of the society in which she
moved found her occupied in this Bible reading. It supplied them with a
new amusement, telling how the attractive marchioness had become a
"Methodist." Hers was not the nature to be turned aside from its purpose
by a taunt. "If for so little I am to be called a Methodist, let me have
something more worthy of the name." Such was her reflection, and her
Bible reading was continued with renewed earnestness.
In the course of that reading the work of the Holy Spirit was impressed
upon her attention. The promise met her eyes, "If ye, being evil, know
how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your
Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him?" "From that
time," she records, "I began to pray for the Holy Spirit." To the end of
her life she increasingly realised and brought others to realise the
paramount importance of the personal work of the Holy Spirit. Lady
Huntly could not now join in the pursuits of the world as she had
formerly done. Her husband did not fully sympathise with the change in
her views, but he saw enough of the sinful emptiness of mere gaiety to
make him refrain from insisting upon her taking part in its pursuits.
More than this, he gave every facility to her for carrying out her
wishes, even when he could not understand the spirit which was
their motive.
When in Geneva, after her Bible reading had begun, she found a very
helpful friend in Madame Vernet. "If any one is to be called my
spiritual mother," she said, "it is Madame Vernet of Geneva." That good
Christian unfolded to her plainly the plan of salvation, showing her
first her lost condition, and then the way of redemption by Jesus
Christ. Lady Huntly was also helped by her intercourse in Paris with
Lady Olivia Sparrow and others who frequented her house for the sake of
the religious society.
On her return from Paris the winter was passed at Kimbolton Castle, the
seat of her brother-in-law, the Duke of Manchester. That place was
memorable in her spiritual history. "I knew Christ first," she
afterwards said, "if I really know Him, at Kimbolton; I spent hours
there in my dressing-room in prayer, and in reading the Bible, and in
happy communion with Him." Lady Huntly referred to this period of her
spiritual life in these terms, some one having made the remark that deep
conviction of sin is almost invariably the beginning of the work of God
in the soul: "I did not quite agree with that statement, and do not
think it is by any means always the case. In my own case I believe that
for two years I was a saved sinner, a believer in Jesus Christ, and yet
that during all that time I did not see the exceeding sinfuluess of sin.
I believed in a general way that I was a sinner, who deserved the
punishment of a righteous God; I believed that whosoever came to Jesus
Christ should he saved; but I had no deep sense of sin, of my sin. Since
then I believe that I have passed through almost every phase of
Christian experience that I have ever read or heard of; and now I have
such a sight of my own utter vileness and unworthiness, that I feel that
the great and holy God might well set His heel on me, so to speak, and
crush me into nothing." This sense of absolute unworthiness was always a
feature of her life. "A useless log" was the term she applied
to herself.
One means of profit which Lady Huntly much enjoyed was her intercourse
with a friend of bygone days, Miss Helen Home. They were now both
walking in the same way. The Bible readings at the house of Miss Home
were felt to be of great service.
Lady Huntly soon introduced family prayer in her home. She felt that if
God was to be heartily served, His altar must be set up in the house. At
first she gathered together her servants and any lady visitors in the
house. But later, as we shall see, the whole establishment took part.
III.
DUCHESS OF GORDON.
The old Duke of Gordon, Lord Huntly's father, died in the summer of
1827. The subject of this biography became Duchess of Gordon, a title
which involved increased responsibilities and increased anxieties.
Happily she realised her position, and determined, by the help of God,
to show more clearly that, in whatever rank of life she was, she was
striving to be a faithful servant of her Heavenly Master. She felt that
she must confess Christ more boldly, that she must be more decided for
Him, however much this profession might appear singular in her
recently-acquired rank.
A short time before leaving Huntly for Gordon Castle, she explored the
old Huntly Castle with a party of friends. The duchess was at the time
greatly bowed down by a sense of the responsibility of her changed life.
There were certain inscriptions round the ceiling of a great hall in the
old castle. No one could make them out. But whilst the duchess was
standing alone in deep thought, her companions having gone off to
examine other curiosities, the sun burst out from a cloud through one of
the broken window mullions and shone brightly on the opposite wall, and
in the light of his rays she read:--
TO. THAES. THAT. LOVE. GOD. AL. THINGIS. VIRKIS. TO THE. BEST.
"It was," she used to say, "a message from the Lord to my soul, and came
to me with such power that I went on my way rejoicing." Ever after this
text was a favourite one. She always looked upon it as peculiarly her
own. Very practical was her reading of God's Word. She, indeed, expected
to find in it a word from Him. Just at the time of her setting out for
her new home she read as usual her daily portion in Bogatsky's _Golden
Treasury_. Through two leaves of the book being stuck together, she had
missed the portion appointed for the day before. But now it presented
itself to her eye--and no less surely to her heart: "Have not I
commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither
be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou
goest." Her comment was, "That was another message from the Lord, that
put strength into me."
Many years afterwards she wrote: "It was this day sixteen years that the
text in Bogatsky was given to me from Joshua 1. 9, and truly I have
found the goodness of the Lord with me, and everything temporal that I
committed to Him He has indeed kept. It is really most wonderful when I
see trials and trouble all around me, to see how everything I prayed for
regarding my own home has been accomplished; and shall I not trust Him
for my soul, and for all that guidance I so greatly need in all that He
would have me to do? Surely He will guide me in spiritual as well as in
temporal things; and the more I cease from man, and from any child of
man, the more I shall be enabled to live simply to His glory." Another
sixteen years passed. The duchess was within a few days of her death.
She heard that a young man was in anxiety about his preparation for the
ministry. "He looks to difficulties; give him for a New Year's message
from me, Joshua 1. 9: 'Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a
good courage; neither be thou dismayed.' These words were given to me
after Duke Alexander's death, and from that day onward they have been a
help to me."
IV.
GOOD WORKS AT GORDON CASTLE.
The duchess did not write a regular diary. But for one week in the first
year of her residence at Gordon Castle such a record was kept. Extracts
from it may serve to give some insight into her thoughts and life. The
reader will be struck with the marked self-humiliation which was so
characteristic of this child of God. "I desired to have resolution to
commence and continue a journal, that I might obtain a clearer view of
my own heart, which I know, alas! to be deceitful above all things and
desperately wicked. Well may I say with Job, 'I abhor myself and repent
in dust and ashes.'" "A day lost though well begun; more peace, more
clear belief, but, alas! not less indifference, not less hardness of
heart; great idleness; after breakfast little or nothing done. O Lord,
deliver me from pride and vanity, and make me a humble and devoted
follower of the meek and lowly Jesus. He indeed is our peace." "Another
unprofitable day; but when, alas! is any day otherwise with me?" "Sins
of the week: unbelief proceeding from pride of reason, selfishness,
carelessness, hardness of heart, vanity, evil speaking." These extracts
are sufficient to show that there was a very severe introspection--a
very real shrinking from sin, and sense of unworthiness. Some of the
faults she lamented seemed to others remarkably absent in the duchess
Evil speaking, for example, was about the last thing she could be
accused of. There was no one more careful of the character of those with
whom she had to do.
This short diary also shows her busily occupied in attending to members
of her household, ministering to one maid, who was sick, instructing
another in the _Shorter Catechism_. Happy was the household that had
such a mistress at its head!
In 1830 William IV. came to the throne. The Duchess of Gordon was
selected by Queen Adelaide as Mistress of the Robes at the Coronation.
The Queen bestowed upon her many marks of favour and friendship. But the
promotion to the highest honours of the Court was not allowed to
militate against her soul's welfare. The service of the King of kings
was always put first.
It is needless to say that the duchess was always a regular attendant at
God's house. For thirty years she made a practice of taking copious
notes of the sermons. The notes were copied out carefully during the
week. This note-taking--sometimes a slight embarrassment to the
preacher--was a great help to the hearer. As at least two sermons a week
were thus noted, there must have been a great mass of manuscript before
the thirty years were expired. Amongst those whose sermons she much
enjoyed were Mr. Howels of Long Acre, Mr. Harington Evans, and Mr.
Blunt, of Chelsea.
Good works were promoted by the duke and duchess at the cost of much
self-denial. The duke's predecessor had left the estates heavily
burdened. The consequence was that they were put under trust, only a
limited income being allowed to the duke. This made contributions to
charitable objects less ample than they would otherwise have been. But
generous help was bestowed that cost the givers something to give. The
duchess set her heart on building and endowing a chapel in connection
with the Church of England. To render this possible the duke proposed to
sell some of his horses. For the same purpose the duchess left a golden
vase valued at £1200 to be sold. To quote her own words to explain what
resulted from this charitable idea: "The Duchess of Beaufort, hearing of
my vase, thought of her diamond ear-rings, which she got me to dispose
of for a chapel in Wales, and her diamonds made me think of my jewels;
and as the duke had always been most anxious for the chapel, he agreed
with me that stones were much prettier in a chapel wall than round one's
neck, and so he allowed me to sell £600's worth, or rather what brought
that, for they cost more than double. The chapel is going on nicely, and
I have still enough jewels left to help to endow it, if no other way
should open. I do think I may with confidence hope for a blessing on
this. It is no sacrifice to me whatever, except as it is one to the
duke, who is very fond of seeing me fine, and was brought up to think
it right."
The strict observance of family prayer has already been referred to. A
room had been fitted up in the castle as a little chapel. The duke was
always present, and now, in the absence of the chaplain and the duchess,
used to conduct the prayers himself. In later years, when the widow
returned to Huntly Lodge, exactly at half-past nine in the morning and
evening the household assembled for prayers. Both indoor and outdoor
servants were first gathered together. The butler then came to the
duchess, and in words which we are assured were never varied by one
syllable or accent during the twenty-seven years of her grace's
widowhood and his own stewardship, announced, "They're all assembled." A
brief blessing was asked, a psalm or hymn read, the organ led the voice
of praise, a passage of Scripture was read and frequently explained. A
prayer followed, in which the duchess wished that the Queen should never
be forgotten.
Very faithfully the duchess sought to do her duty in bringing the
interests of religion before those with whom she had to do, especially
those of her own household. "But you do not know the difficulty I have
in speaking to any one who does not meet me half way. I think if I could
see my way clearly, I might get over this painful shyness, which I then
know would be want of faith. But I cannot see that, situated as I am, it
is my duty; and moreover, I _fancy_ I have not the talent, and it is not
one which I have to account for; for I have so often done more harm than
good, even when I have prayed to be directed; indeed, I trust I have not
often had to speak without that prayer.... Oh! I do pray for more zeal
for souls, more true sense of their infinite value; for I think if I
felt it as I _see_ it, I should do more."
V.
THE HEAVY BLOW.
In the summer of 1835 the duke and duchess made a tour on the Continent.
Even amidst all the movements and difficulties connected with hotel
life, family prayers were not neglected. Every morning before starting
they assembled together to ask God's blessing. The duchess on this tour
had daily opportunities of reading the Bible with her husband. She was
very anxious about his soul's welfare. His testimony to his old friend,
Colonel Tronchin, at Geneva, was very significant. "Tronchin, I am a
very changed man to what you once knew me, and I owe it all to my dear
wife." She herself writes with reference to the duke--"He has done and
said many things since he came here which almost give me hope that the
Spirit of God is really at work, and that he begins to experience
something of the blessedness of those who fear the Lord."
The greatest trial in her life was now approaching the duchess. He who
had been her support and joy for so many years was to be taken from her.
On the 27th of May, 1836, she was told by the doctors that the duke had
only a short time to live. The terrible news was of course overwhelming,
but she knew whither to turn. "I had not realised till then the
hopelessness of the case. I retired to another room and fell on my
knees; and as if they had been audibly uttered, these words were
impressed upon my heart, 'Thy Maker is thy Husband; the Lord of hosts is
His name; and thy Redeemer the Holy One of Israel; the God of the whole
earth shall He be called,' and I rose up to meet the trial in His
strength." The next day the duke died. Full proof was given of the
sufficiency of God to support His servants in their darkest hours. Two
days afterwards she wrote--"I must tell you of the blessed consolation I
have in thinking of the perfect peace which my beloved husband enjoyed
uninterruptedly, and the presence of the Comforter from the Father and
the Son to my own soul. Pray for me. Although I feel indeed in the
wilderness, yet like her who was led there, I would desire to lean on
the arm of the Beloved One, who has truly given to me 'the valley of
Achor for a door of hope,' and who is a very present help in time of
trouble. The comfort I have is at present almost without alloy. It is
only when earthly things pull me from my resting-place that I see the
desolation of all earthly joys; and yet I am not excited, out as the
Lord has enabled me to stay my mind on Him, He has kept me in perfect
peace." When the beloved remains were removed into their last
resting-place in Elgin Cathedral, she dedicated herself afresh to God.
"When the coffin was lowered into that vault, I felt as if God had
shoved under my feet all that was most dear to me, the only one on earth
to whose love I was entitled, and that now I must live to
Himself alone."
After her husband's death her wish was to return at once to Huntly
Lodge, where she had spent the first years of her married life, and
which was now hers by the marriage settlement. But a lease which the
tenant was unwilling to resign prevented this for a time. Accordingly
she made up her mind to travel abroad for some months. During the
winter of 1836 she lived at Pau. The return home was made the following
summer. Naturally she dreaded coming back to the now desolate home--the
same place, but all so changed. But God was good, and the grace
sufficient for the day was given. "_Huntly Lodge, 31st August_,
1837.--The Lord has been better to me than all my fears. Wagstaff (the
duke's factor), accompanied by both Mr. Bigsby (of the English Chapel at
Gordon Castle) and Mr. Dewar (minister of Fochabers), received me. My
heart was so full of the Lord's goodness, that there was no room for
bitterness; and after a few moments alone, I could not rest till we had
thanked our tender Father; Mr. Bigsby was the organ of our thanksgiving.
The three gentlemen, Annie (Sinclair), and I joined in prayer then, and
at night with all the people of house, stable, and farm; this morning
Mr. Dewar's prayer was very much what I needed. My blessed Lord Jesus is
very present, and I know I cannot come to my Father without Him. Oh,
pray that I may be more and more awakened, and never fall asleep again.
Oh, for the quickening grace of the Holy Spirit to realise continually
that blessed presence! 4th _Sept_.--My heart is full of thankfulness and
wonder as to myself. I dreaded above all things the bitterness of
desolation on my return here; and behold the Lord made His presence so
manifest that I am now, as in times past, rejoicing in His
unmerited love."
VI.
WIDOWHOOD AT HUNTLY LODGE.
The arrangements at Huntly Lodge were now, of course, entirely in the
hands of the widowed duchess. Essentially the motto which was the
principle of the establishment was, "As for me and my house, we will
serve the Lord." It was a matter of some doubt with her whether she
should keep up the style natural to her rank, or let the Lodge and
retire into a humbler life. After carefully and prayerfully weighing the
matter, her decision was that "position is stewardship," and that it was
her duty not to despise the high estate to which God had been pleased to
call her, but to consecrate it to His service. This determination was a
wise one. Her light was placed so that many could see its steady and
bright burning.
The whole house was ruled in strict order, marked quietness and
simplicity prevailing. We are told that everything throughout the day
was conducted with the exactness of clockwork. The duchess rose soon
after six o'clock. The family met at breakfast at nine. Exactly at
half-past nine, as we have seen, both morning and evening, the house
assembled for family prayers. After breakfast one of the first
occupations of the duchess was to visit her old bedridden maid, to
minister to her in things both temporal and spiritual. At noon she had a
daily reading of the Bible in her room. The reading was interspersed
with conversation, and followed by prayer. She seemed to be never tired
of these spiritual exercises. The later hours of the day were occupied
with reading and other pursuits until five o'clock, when she would again
visit her invalid maid. In dealing with the poor the duchess was not
only generous but discriminating. She spared no trouble in inquiring
into the eases of distress before her. We are told that the list of two
hundred persons whose families she regularly relieved had before her
death increased to three hundred. The post was also often used as the
means of dispensing her anonymous charity. One reason why she was so
anxious to have a thoroughly capable chaplain was that he might
thoroughly examine into the deserts of applicants for help. It was not
pecuniary assistance only that was sought from the duchess. Her kindly
counsel was much valued. To quote her own words, "Though I do so need
advice and wisdom in my own matters, the most extraordinary people think
proper to consult me about the most extraordinary things, and I cannot
lose the opportunity of giving the only Christian advice they may be in
the way of receiving. May the Lord help me; oh, how constantly do I
need help!"
The Sabbath day was indeed a holy day at Huntly Lodge. Everything that
could be done the day before was done. No fire was lighted in the
drawing-room on the Sunday, with, as we are informed, the double object
of saving unnecessary labour, and "to present no inducement for visitors
to meet together for idle conversation." The doors of the house were
locked during the hours of service, one, or at most two, servants
staying at home. No letters were received or posted on the Sabbath.
There were no arrivals nor departures of guests on that day. On a
certain Sunday morning at breakfast the duchess was surprised to hear a
carriage-and-four brought round to the door. Her immediate "What is
that?" was answered by the appearance of a young English nobleman who
had come to bid her good-bye. "Oh no," she said, "not on the Sabbath."
Affectionately she persuaded him to remain until the next day. Away from
home, on the Continent and elsewhere, she was careful that the day
should be strictly observed. So great was her interest in Sabbath
observance that she wrote a little tract on the subject.
The duchess used to delight in surrounding herself at Huntly Lodge with
those who were specially set apart for the service of God. The ministers
from time to time assembled there, first gathering together for prayer
and conference, and then in a more open meeting, at which the duchess
and her friends were present, and finally at family worship.
Schools for the poor were munificently founded by the Duchess of Gordon.
The schools at Huntly, which were commenced in 1839, were finished in
1843. They consisted of infant schools, schools for older boys and
girls, and also an industrial school for training fifty girls for
service. When living in Edinburgh, she built large schools in the
destitute district of Holyrood. The lady of Huntly was indeed a worthy
precursor in the great work of general education. One excellent plan of
religious instruction she adopted in her own household. A weekly class
was formed of her female domestics, She had prepared a large number of
questions. To each of the class she gave each week a slip of paper
containing one question. This was to be answered before the next
meeting. There was no one in the establishment who could help feeling
that the mistress took the deepest interest in him or her.
VII.
ANXIETIES AND REST.
The Duchess of Gordon had been brought up an Episcopalian. But when in
May, 1843, the great Disruption took place, when four-hundred and
seventy-four ministers of the Church of Scotland took up their cross for
Christ, resigning their earthly livings for conscience sake, the duchess
was deeply moved by this heroic act of self-denial, and eventually,
after much thought and prayer, she joined the Free Church, becoming a
member of Free St. Luke's Church. She had left the Church of England,
but she loved and honoured it to the end of her life. "I have not time
for entering into my reasons for separating from the Church of England,
but they were purely conscientious; and I believe I could never be a
blessing to the little body of English Episcopalians, if acting against
my conscience. They want God's blessing, not man's help; the latter
without the former is a curse. Put not your trust in any child of man.
But I am not against those dear friends, and can feel myself more at
liberty to help them now than before, because I am now acting openly in
all things. May the Lord Jesus enable you to look to Him, and to feel
and say with Luther, 'Lord, I am Thy sin, Thou art my righteousness.'"
The first occasion on which the duchess partook of the Communion in
connection with the Free Church at Huntly was a memorable event. The
people assembled in large numbers. By the kindness of the Lady of
Huntly provision was made for the visitors within the precincts of the
old castle, military tents being erected for the purpose. Her own
account of the scene may well be given. "_Huntly Lodge, Aug_. 5,
1847.--Now to tell of a time I hope never to forget. Friday was the fast
day; Professor M. Laggan preached in the morning, and Mr. Moody Stuart
in the evening. For Sabbath, Dr. Russell, who arrived on Friday
afternoon, assisted to arrange a pulpit and two tents in the court of
the old castle, one for the elements, the other for our party. Oh! it
was indeed a communion: the Lord was there evidently set forth before
us, and not only set forth, but present. God the Sovereign and Judge,
God the Creator, without whom nothing was made that is made, is God the
Saviour, Immanuel, the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.
There seemed truly nothing of man's making between us and the living
God; a realisation of being God's creatures, God's redeemed children,
formed for Himself, for His own glory. Mr. Dewar preached the
action-sermon, after which Mr. M.S. fenced the tables, and addressed us,
and served the first table. He told me he never so realised the oneness
of Jehovah in Three Persons. If we had seen the Heavenly Dove
overshadowing us, and heard the voice saying, 'This is My beloved Son,
hear ye Him,' we should have been doubtless overwhelmed; but could
hardly have had a more real sense of the presence of Him who made the
heavens and the earth, the trees, the grass, and the new creature in
Christ Jesus. Mr. Dewar served two tables and gave the concluding
address; and Mr. Moody Stuart again preached in the evening on Isa. 1.
18: 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.'
Many were much affected, and the place was so beautiful! I hope the
weather will permit our having the tents pitched again."
VIII.
GOOD WORKS ABROAD.
After the duke's death, his widow paid frequent visits to the Continent.
Pau was a specially favourite resort. There she found both English and
French Protestants worshipping in places utterly inadequate for the
purpose. She generously purchased a site for a church to be used by both
congregations, the lower storey being fitted up for a French Protestant
school. She also liberally subscribed towards the erection of the
church. Her good works at this place were not few. Having heard that a
man living near had broken his leg, she drove off at once to visit him,
and repeated her visits weekly. A Bible was given to him, and the result
was that his first journey on his crutches was to the Protestant service
at Pau. He was convinced that in the teaching of the Protestants alone
there was safety. The next day the children were withdrawn from the
Roman Catholic school. The excitement was great, and no little
persecution and pecuniary loss ensued to the new converts. The duchess
began her Protestant school at Pau with eight pupils. She also had Bible
classes from time to time, one being for Roman Catholic girls. A Sabbath
evening service was held by the duchess for her French servants.
The story of Manuel Fuster, a Spanish refugee, is an interesting one. He
had been destined by his parents for the priesthood. But having fallen
into destitute circumstances, the duchess's butler had shown him
kindness and given him some work to do for the house. Full of gratitude,
when her grace passed through the courtyard, he fell down on his knees
to thank her. She told him that that homage should be paid only to the
Most High. At this interview and at many others she spoke to him about
his soul's salvation. A French Bible was given to him before she left.
On her return to Pau the next year, he was found breaking stones by the
roadside, a conversation proving that he was quite a changed man. In the
end he did good Christian service as a colporteur in France.
In 1847 the duchess was advised to winter in the south of Europe.
Frequent attacks of bronchitis had made this course advisable. She took
up her residence at Cannes, having prospects of being useful there. And
her hope of being useful was very substantially realised. "_Cannes,
Dec_. 1847.--Constant occupation, and many, many new opportunities of
meeting with the Lord's people, and speaking of the glad tidings of
great joy, have caused the delay in writing. I now know what fine
climate is, and the country and views are beautiful; but above all there
is a field of usefulness that we could not have at Nice, and an open
door for the Gospel. Altogether, no tongue can tell the goodness of the
Lord to us. He is letting me get glimpses both of His love and His glory
in the face of Jesus Christ, such as I have never had before; and all
this with such peace in outward circumstances! Is it not marvellous? You
need not be alarmed about my 'exposition' on Saturday; I feel too deeply
my own incapacity to attempt anything beyond what I should say to an
infant school at home. The people who come to it are either the families
of the servants I employ, or of the children taught by Annie Sandilands.
We live as quietly as possible; Lord Brougham sends me the newspaper and
bouquets of flowers; other friends lend Caroline their ponies, and do
all kind things. Some young English girls come here once a week to a
Bible class, and we have meetings every other evening at the chapel at
home." The parting from her little flock at Cannes was a painful
experience. "Our children were first broken-hearted, and after we were
gone were roaring so that nothing could pacify them but Monsieur Bettets
taking them all into the drawing-room and praying with them. Those
chiefly affected were little Italians, and indeed they seem to have much
warmer feelings."
The course of events in the life of the duchess in Scotland seems to
have been very even and not very full of startling incidents during the
last years of her life. Her personal piety was matured, and her works of
usefulness were multiplied. She much delighted in the ministry of Dr.
Rainy, who left Huntly in 1853, after a sojourn there of four years. "I
wish much you had heard our three last sermons from Mr. Rainy; I never
heard any more useful, striking and impressive. I was particularly
struck by the way he brought out the necessity of taking up the cross in
these days, in a real giving up of self, self-love, self-righteousness,
self-pleasing."
IX.
QUICKENED SPIRITUAL LIFE.
The year 1859 is remembered as a season of remarkable quickening of
spiritual life in America and Ireland, and later in Scotland. Such a
movement could not fail to attract the attention of the Duchess of
Gordon who, living so entirely in the presence of the Spirit, was able
to realise the workings around her. Huntly Lodge was always ready to
receive any who were busied with the spread of the good tidings. Mr.
MacDowall Grant, Mr. Brownlow North, and Mr. Reginald Radcliffe were
amongst the evangelists who were welcome visitors, as they went about
their work of love. In January, 1859, and in the following months, there
were impressive gatherings of ministers who met to bring themselves to
the attainment of a nearer walk with God, and to strive for the
awakening of their people. In January, 1860, there was a conference on a
still larger scale, twenty-four ministers staying at the Lodge, whilst
others found hospitality elsewhere. There was an unmistakable quickening
on all sides. It was suggested to the duchess by Mr. Duncan Matheson,
who had been her missionary in the district for some years, that a great
assembly might be gathered together for two or three days in one of her
parks. The matter was carefully weighed by one who shrunk from anything
like undue novelty or unsound sensationalism. But when once she was
convinced that it was God's way she hesitated no longer. What the world
would think was a light consideration with her. Invitations were sent by
the duchess to ministers and laymen of all denominations in England
and Scotland.
The spot chosen was the Castle Park; the date, the Wednesday and
Thursday of the third week in July. There was provision made for
accommodating the expected guests in the Lodge itself and all the
adjoining houses. The duchess filled her schools with stores for the
ministers and their families, and all whom they might choose to invite.
No expense of thought or labour was spared. But there was one thing that
might have rendered all the careful arrangements of no avail. The rain
had been falling for weeks, and there seemed no prospect of its
cessation. Happily the fears were disappointed. From the time the people
began to assemble until after the forenoon train on the last day had
carried away the last of those who had lingered to the close of the
assembly, there was not a drop of rain. The great day of the gathering
was especially bright. It seemed as if God the great Creator were
specially smiling on this effort for His glory and the everlasting
welfare of His creatures. The place chosen for the gathering was most
suitable, there being two or three places like amphitheatres on which
the hearers could sit. Everything had been arranged so carefully by
those whose hearts were thoroughly in the work that the duchess was able
to note after the great gathering was over--"Truly there was not one
thing out of place or unseemly." Eternity will unfold the results. The
assembly was characterised "by much freedom and power in the speakers,
by refreshing and lively joy and thanksgiving in the Lord's people, by
the awakening of many of the dead, and by holy liberty granted to those
that were bound." The number at this meeting in 1860 was about 7000.
Meetings of a similar character were held in the three following years.
In one or more of these the number reached 10,000. About the last of the
great assemblies, the duchess wrote--"_ August_, 1863. I cannot but
wonder to see these meetings increasing in numbers and interest every
year; not as a rendezvous for a pleasant day in the country, but really
very solemn meetings, where the presence of the Lord is felt, and the
power of His Spirit manifested. I trust that I have been somewhat
awakened by the preaching of our own minister, which has been very
striking indeed."
X.
THE END IS PEACE.
At the beginning of 1861 the duchess was brought almost to death's door.
To use the words of her biographer, "She was visited with a severe and
all but fatal illness, which was inscribed by the Lord's own hand with
all the characters of the believer's death-bed, except that He brought
her up again from the gates of the grave, and prolonged her precious
life for three years more." So alarming was the illness that she made
all arrangements for her departure hence. Various remembrances were set
aside for her relatives and friends, and directions were given that
certain letters should be written for the promotion of the welfare of
some whose interest she had at heart.
On the evening of her attack she asked her friend to repeat the hymn
"One there is above all others,
Oh, how He loves!"
She then observed that she had been depressed for some time with a sense
of her many sins, but that the Lord was now giving her tranquil and
joyful rest. She often spoke of the manner in which her soul was
comforted, and that never-forgotten night. It is thus described by Dr.
Moody Stuart, who was for many years her close friend: "There was
nothing of the nature of a dream or trance; but as she lay sleepless,
there appeared as if really before her eyes a white scroll unrolled,
glistening with unearthly brightness, and with floods of vivid light
ever flowing over it. Written at the head of the scroll, in large bright
letters of gold, she read this inscription:--'THE LORD OUR
RIGHTEOUSNESS.' All her darkness was dispelled in a moment; with the
glorious words, the Spirit imprinted on her heart and conscience the
fresh seal of the pardon of all her sins; she believed and knew that the
Lord Jesus Christ was of God made unto her 'righteousness,' and that His
blood had made her whiter than snow. Her soul entered in a moment into
perfect rest; the peace of God that passeth all understanding now kept
her heart and mind through Christ Jesus; and she rejoiced in the full
assurance that for her to die that night was to depart and be for ever
with the Lord."
Day after day passed on, and she still lived. All her thoughts and words
were about her Lord and the spiritual welfare of those around her. Her
servants were a special care to her. As she was not allowed to see them
individually, she sent them a message that they must not be content with
trusting in a general way to the mercy of God, but that each of them
must be found in the Lord our Righteousness if they would be saved.
Throughout the illness her mind was kept in perfect peace, being
emphatically stayed upon her Lord. One can well understand how prayers
would be offered up for her by many that the valued life might be
spared, if it were God's will.
During the time of her slow and partial recovery she occupied herself
with learning hymns. She laid up a store which became in later months a
great source of comfort to her. The hymn which she first committed to
memory was one of her chief favourites:--
"A mind at perfect peace with God."
The second verse she specially valued:--
"By nature and by practice far,
How very far from God;
Yet now by grace brought nigh to Him,
Through faith in Jesus' blood."
As we have said recovery was only slow and partial. She tried to learn
the lesson designed in this lengthening out of her earthly sojourn. "I
thought my life was spared," she said, "to give the opportunity of
devoting for a longer period my influence and substance to the cause of
Christ, but I see now a deeper meaning in it. There is more personal
holiness to be attained, more nearness to Christ, and more joy hereafter
through a deeper work here in my heart."
Her old habit of early rising had of course to be abandoned. But the
hours of the early morning were well spent, especially in meditation and
intercessory prayer. As an example of the things that occupied her mind,
we may quote words spoken to her maid as she entered the room: "I awoke
very early this morning, and have been very happy and busily engaged. My
thoughts have been much occupied with three things all so different, yet
each needing God's help to-day. The first is the Queen's visit to
Aberdeen to inaugurate the Prince Consort's memorial; the second is Mr.
M.'s prayer meeting in London in a hall that had been a dancing-saloon
in his parish; and (referring to a young man formerly in her service,
but then studying for the ministry) the third is John's College
examination."
At the end of 1863 the duchess expressed a strong wish that the
ministerial conference at Huntly Lodge should be resumed. A meeting was
held on the 13th of the following January. As she heard what had
transpired she remarked, "I liked the meeting, and had only one thing to
find fault with: some of the gentlemen prayed for me as if I was
something, and I am nothing. I must speak about that before the next
meeting." She invited all to meet again on the 10th of the following
month. She little thought that they would indeed meet on that day, but
only to lay her remains to rest. The 10th of February was to be her
funeral day.
The fatal illness was of very short duration, and gave her little
opportunity of thought. She was sorrowing over her inability to think
when the words were given to her: "I am poor and needy yet the Lord
thinketh upon me." "Yes, that's it," was her reply; "In Thy strong arms
I lay me down." She was quoting from the following hymn, which she
frequently repeated to her friends, and which she said more than any
other expressed the present state of her feelings:--
"I only enter on the rest,
Obtained by labour done;
I only claim the victory
By Him so dearly won.
And, Lord, I seek a _holy_ rest,
A victory over sin;
I seek that Thou alone should'st reign
O'er all, without, within.
In quietness then, and confidence,
Saviour, my strength shall be,
And '_take_ me, for I cannot _come_,'
Is still my cry to Thee.
In Thy strong hand I lay me down,
So shall the work be done;
For who can work so wondrously
As an Almighty One?
Work on, then, Lord, till on my soul
Eternal Light shall break;
And in Thy likeness perfected,
I 'satisfied' shall wake."
On the evening of the 29th of January the duchess attempted to ask for
something. Miss Sandilands repeated the words, "My Beloved is mine, and
I am His." "Yes," she answered. This emphatic token of assent to a truth
which was essentially her own by appropriation was the last attempt she
made to speak. She fell asleep at half-past seven on the Sabbath
evening, the 31st of January, 1864. She went to the land where time is
no more, in her seventieth year, just reaching the allotted term of
life, as she had certainly in no ordinary degree performed its
allotted work.
There was no need of hired mourners at her funeral. The depth of real
grief was unprecedented. The sad procession was composed of many
hundreds of mourners, and of nearly seven hundred children from her
schools. The whole district was desolate and bereaved. The man was only
speaking what many another was thinking when he said, "This is the
greatest calamity that ever befell this district; of a' the dukes that
reigned here there was never one like her; there's none in this
neighbourhood, high or low, but was under some obligation to her, for
she made it her study to benefit her fellow-men; and what crowds o' puir
craturs she helped every day. And then for the spiritual, Huntly is
Huntly still, in a great degree, but the gude that's been done in it is
a' through her."
All that was mortal of this mother in Israel was laid to rest in Elgin
Cathedral. That noble fane contained the remains of no one more loved
than she. "I can't understand how people should love me," she used to
say. Others could understand it. And now that they could love her in
person no longer, they love her memory.
S.F. HARRIS, M.A., B.C.L.