BLINKBONNY AND THE DISRUPTION.
“But there are true hearts, which the sight
Of trouble summons forth;
Though known in days of past delight,
We knew not half their worth.”
_Thos. Haynes Bayley._
Sir John had written to his steward to tell me that Mr. Barrie had left
the Established Church; the steward showed me the letter; it was a
compound of amazement, sympathy, and anger.
Scarcely had he finished, when Bell, evidently in a state of great
excitement, came in and said, “Eh, Mr. Martin, it’s ower true; we’ll
hae to flit! Mr. Barrie’s gi’en up the kirk, and he has nae richt noo
to the manse. I canna tell exactly when we’ll be putten out, but the
mistress says we’ll no’ be allowed to bide lang. I wadna like to be the
Government that put Mr. Barrie out o’ house and ha’. Some Mordecai will
rise ere lang to gi’e us relief, or some Nehemiah to speak to the king
and queen about the desolation and affliction and reproach. Them that
comes to pit us out will maybe find an enemy in the garden, like Ahab
in Naboth’s vineyard. What’s the world comin’ till?”
Sir John’s steward knew Bell well, and tried to soothe her by saying,
“Don’t bother yourself. If Mr. Barrie adhered to his resolution to
leave the Established Church, no one would presume to hurry him out
of the manse; at all events, he could have it until a successor was
appointed.”
But Bell was not in a sociable mood, and only said, “Sooner or later
we maun flit.” Then handing me a letter from Mr. Barrie, she said she
would step into the kitchen until I got it read, and wait to see if
there was any answer.
_KNOWE PARK._
The letter confirmed the steward’s news, and stated it would be a
favour if I would reserve for him the first offer of Knowe Park, and
that he would be home as soon as possible. After the steward had
left I went to Bell, and told her that Mr. Barrie’s letter was about
Knowe Park, and asked if she would come with me and see if it would
suit. This was rather a sudden following up of the affair, as Bell
had convinced herself that Mr. Barrie would never leave the manse;
and although she had generally ended her remarks on the subject with
“Wherever could we gang?” she had not tried to answer the question.
After a little hesitation she said, “Knowe Park! that’s where Mr.
Taylor lived,—he had a grand apple tree—an ‘Oslin pippin.’ Is’t aye
yonder? It’s a nice garden—a nice place to stop. I’ve noticed them
buildin’ a new house there, but I haena paid muckle attention till’t. I
wad like to see’t. I’ll be very glad to gang.” And off we set.
It took a very few minutes to go. Bell was pleased with the outside of
the house. “It was a nice house—fine big windows—faced the south—wad
hae a grand view—the garden was bigger than she thocht, and in gude
order. Is thae my plants?—they were thrivin’.” With such snatches
did Bell accompany her survey of the place before she went into the
house. She criticized the inside more minutely, her standard being
the manse. As she went from room to room she spoke of each, or rather
thought aloud: “This is the kitchen—it’s very nice—lichtsome—plenty
o’ room—it looks a nice grate, or I fancy ye’ll ca’ that a range. I
never tried them, but they say they’re handy. Presses—pantry. What’s
ben here?—washing-house—coal-house—awmrie[2]—bedroom. Very nice; this
will do fine. Noo, what about a study?” I suggested a bedroom, but she
gave that only a partial approval; the other rooms pleased her. When
I showed the drawing-room, “Drawing-room!” said she; “we hae nane at
the manse, and Mrs. Barrie thinks we get on fine without it. We’ll make
this the study. But what about the outhouses?”
[2] The old Scotch name for the store-room containing dry food, such
as flour, meal, etc.
This exercised Bell greatly. There was an old building in the north
corner of the place, behind the bleaching-green, which I had left as
it was; it was a compound of stable, hay-loft, cart-shed, fruit-room,
and potato-house, but required considerable repair. I was undecided
whether to repair it or replace it by a building more in keeping with
the house, but Bell protested against new outhouses. “Na, na; nae mair
expenses. Whitewash it, gi’e it a bit sort up, and it will fit us
exactly.” Then going to the hedge on the east, she said, “Wha’s aught
this park?”
“It goes with the house,” said I, “and is at Mr. Barrie’s service.”
Bell was delighted: she saw her way to bring “Daisy” and the hens.
She became quite cheerful, and left me, saying as she parted, “It’s
the very place for us. I wadna say it’s just up to the manse, but I’m
thankfu’ to ken of such a gude hame for them among kent folk ‘Better a
wee bush than nae bield,’[3] as the saying is. But it’s no’ wee either;
it’s just real nice.”
[3] Shelter.
_MR. BARRIE’S RETURN._
Mr. Barrie’s return was awaited by the folks of Blinkbonny with mingled
feelings, uppermost being anxiety about his worldly prospects. They
were hardly prepared for the Disruption; and when they learned that
Mr. Barrie had disjoined himself from the Church of Scotland, and
consequently from his only source of income hitherto, they spoke of it
as a serious matter, a very serious matter. It looked a rash step, and
they felt more than they said, for the thought of his family and their
future support pressed heavily on their hearts, and made his friends
silent and solemn. He reached home on Thursday afternoon, and felt
at a loss how to act. A few of his elders and friends had had little
meetings on the subject, but these were unsatisfactory, because every
one had nearly the same want of opinion. “They really did not know what
to do;” “What could they do?” was all they could say, followed by a
shake of the head and a puzzled look at one another. When they learned
that Mr. Barrie had got back, they debated whether to wait for _him_ to
propose a meeting, or to go to him. The majority recommended that some
of their number should call at the manse; but each wished his neighbour
to go, and all were reluctant.
At length Mr. Taylor, a worthy elder and a sterling man, said:
“Friends, it will never do to back out that way. It’s unkind to Mr.
Barrie, and it’s not creditable to ourselves. If three or four of
you will join me,” and looking round the company, he nodded to each
as he named,—“say Mr. Smith, and Mr. Watson, and Mr. Brown, and Mr.
Martin,—we’ll go, and go soon.”
This met with universal approval, and a letter was sent to let Mr.
Barrie know that some friends would wait on him about seven o’clock,
if convenient. The reply was cordial and touching. It conveyed his
heartfelt thanks for “the prompt kindness that provided for him so
thoughtfully the earliest possible opportunity of explaining his
position, and conferring with them on the important events of the past
week,” and expressed the pleasure he would have in seeing all that
could conveniently come, whether they approved of the step he had taken
or not.
_TANFIELD HALL._
This letter removed the objection that many felt about going to the
manse, and the company filled the dining-room. We expected to find Mr.
Barrie dejected and downcast, and were surprised to find him not only
cheerful, but more demonstrative in his heartiness than usual. How to
introduce the matter had puzzled the deputation. This was not needed.
Mr. Barrie very fully, but in moderate language, stated the case as
between the Free Church, the Government, and the remaining ministers of
the Established Church, making it appear very different to me from what
Sir John had made it. None of us ever saw him so animated as when he
described the meeting of the Assembly from which, after the Protest and
Declaration was made, hundreds of ministers walked out for conscience’
sake; the perplexed look of the remaining members of Assembly; the
awe-struck, solemn silence of the crowd as the line of reverend and
grave men became longer and yet longer; the tumult of joy and sorrow as
they crowded into Tanfield Hall; the reception they got from ministers
of other denominations and the Christian public. As, however, these are
fully described in the chronicles or annals of the times, I will not
repeat them here, but would commend the subject to the attention of the
student of history, and of the Scotch people, whichever side of the
questions in dispute they may favour.
When he had laid the case before us, Mr. Barrie with great earnestness
said, “I wish no one to join the Free Church, for”—here he hesitated,
and looked as if debating something with himself, then resumed,
“for—for—well, excuse me for using the term, for my sake. I wish every
man to act only on distinct conviction; and, if I know myself at all,
I consider the right of private judgment in such matters such a holy
thing, that I will respect those who, on conviction, differ from me on
this matter, as much as I will those who go along with me in it. And
now, Christian friends, I leave the matter in your hands. Consider of
it, take advice, and speak your minds.”
_FRIENDS IN COUNCIL._
A long, impressive silence followed Mr. Barrie’s remarks. The
deputation looked down, then up, then at one another. At length Mr.
Taylor said: “Gentlemen, ye’ve heard Mr. Barrie—I can answer for
myself—with great satisfaction. I’ve been reading the _Merqry_”
(an Edinburgh newspaper called the _Caledonian Mercury_) “and the
_Scotsman_ on this matter—thanks to Mr. Smith for it. I’ve mair time
for readin’ than I once had, and I never was prouder o’ my country than
when I read that abune[4] four hunder ministers had courage enough,
and faith enough, and principle enough, to leave the Kirk when they
saw that her birthricht was wrested frae her by the sec’lar power, and
their consciences scandaleez’d by open defiance to the fundamental
principles of the Christian economy. I needna tell you, gentlemen,
that this leaving o’ the Kirk means loss o’ house and ha’, and way
o’ livin’, or stipend as it’s ca’d; an’ nae doubt there’s a sair
heart in mony a minister’s breast, when he thinks o’ his family and
them that depends on him. And nae wonder, for in that respect it’s a
step in the dark,—a’ the eerier that he has his nearest and dearest
on his back, and a wrang step might finish them a’.” Here Mr. Barrie
winced, and emitted a sudden sound as if cold water had been poured
on his back, which led Mr. Taylor to change his graphic style to one
of practical application. “But no’ to detain ye, gentlemen, I for
one side wi’ the Free Kirk, and will dae all in my power to back Mr.
Barrie; and I hope and trust that the world’ll see that Scotland hasna
lost the Covenanter’s spirit yet, and will countenance what I may ca’
the martyrs o’ her third Reformation, that have gi’en up sae much for
their Maister’s sake, and never let them want a ‘competent portion of
the good things of this life.’ ‘Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so
fulfil the law of Christ.’”
[4] Above.
Others expressed themselves to the same effect. The oldest man in the
party, George Brown, verging on eighty years of age, a “Nathanael,”
after a few words said, “Mr. Barrie, and Christian friends, I propose
that we renew the Covenant.” He made the same proposal in one of the
early Assemblies, although his weak voice, and the unexpectedness and
inexpediency of the motion, prevented its being taken up.
It was resolved, on Mr. Barrie’s suggestion, to call a meeting of
the parishioners for Saturday afternoon, so that he might have an
opportunity of explaining the “Disruption” fully to all who would meet
with him, and to let the meeting be known in the parish, so that there
might be a good attendance. Mr. Barrie also said that, as he considered
it inexpedient to conduct the Sabbath service in the (he called it
for the first time) “old” church, he would on Sabbath preach on the
Annie Green, a nice grassy common, with its banks sloping upwards in a
fairly-sized semicircle, formed at a bend of the burn.
Before leaving the manse there was a service. The daylight had begun to
fade; Mr. Barrie said that on that account we would sing what we all
knew so well as not to need books, the 2d Paraphrase. As he read it,
his voice faltered, and there was not a dry eye, or a throat without a
lump in it, as it was sung. I give it in full below, although it must
be familiar to nearly all of my readers, leaving them to judge of its
singular applicability to the case:
“O God of Bethel! by whose hand
Thy people still are fed;
Who through this weary pilgrimage
Hast all our fathers led:
“Our vows, our pray’rs, we now present
Before thy throne of grace:
God of our fathers! be the God
Of their succeeding race.
“Through each perplexing path of life
Our wand’ring footsteps guide;
Give us each day our daily bread,
And raiment fit provide.
“O spread thy cov’ring wings around,
Till all our wand’rings cease,
And at our Father’s lov’d abode
Our souls arrive in peace.
“Such blessings from thy gracious hand
Our humble pray’rs implore;
And thou shalt be our chosen God,
And portion evermore.”
The prayer was impressive and devout, fervent in its cry for light and
strength and grace, simple and reverent.
_GEORGE BROWN._
After leaving the manse, the deputation walked slowly down the
approach, old George Brown leaning on Mr. Taylor’s arm. When we reached
the gate opening on the public road, George, who was in front, turned
about, and when all had gathered round him, he said:
_ALL THE TITHES._
“Freends, I’m an auld man, the auldest o’ ye a’, and I thank God I’ve
lived to see this day. I’ve lang mourned o’er the backslidings and
defections o’ our times, but the Lord has made bare His holy arm. This
is the day of His merciful visitation. I’ll say to you as Moses said
to Joshua, ‘Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of
them: for the Lord thy God, He it is that doth go with thee; He will
not fail thee, nor forsake thee; fear not, neither be dismayed.’ Dinna
turn your back in the day of battle, like the sons of Ephraim; dinna
abide by the bleatings of the sheep, like Reuben, or remain in ships,
like Dan; abune a’, dinna provoke the curse of Meroz for not coming to
the help of the Lord against the mighty. Mind, when things werena as
they should have been in the days o’ Haggai, when men lived in their
ceiled houses and let the house o’ the Lord lie waste, that they sowed
much but brocht in little, when neither their meat nor their drink
nourished them, and even their vera claes werena warm. Their wages
were putten into a bag wi’ holes, and the Lord blew on what did grow;
an’ the drouth[5] spoilt their corn, an’ wine, an’ oil, an’ men, an’
cattle, an’ a’ the labour o’ their hands; and they had blastin’, an’
mildew, an’ hail. But frae the vera day, the four-and-twentieth day o’
the ninth month, even from the day that the foundation o’ the Lord’s
temple was laid—frae that vera day the Lord blessed them wi’ plenty,
an’ scattered their faes, and made them as a signet—that I take to be
a finger-ring, aye in His sicht. We hae gude reason to believe that
the Lord’s time to favour Zion has come. He’s sitting like a refiner
of silver, purifying the sons of Levi. Dinna rob Him in tithes and
offerings, or He’ll curse us wi’ a curse; but oh, my freends, bring
a’ the tithes into the store-house,—the tithe o’ pious hearts and
godly zeal, an’ prayer, an’ brotherly love, an’ charity, an’ works o’
faith, an’ labours o’ love, and worldly goods—a’ the tithes; dinna keep
back pairt o’ the price, as ye would escape the fate o’ Ananias and
Sapphira. And if we a’ dae our pairt, the Lord will prove true to His
promise, an’ open the windows o’ heaven, and pour out a blessing till
there’s no room to receive it; and ours will be a delightsome land—no
more desolate and forsaken, but Hephzibah and Beulah, which means
‘Delighted in,’ and ‘Married.’”
[5] Drought.
There was something of the old prophet in the good man, as he “lifted
up his voice and testified.” An interesting conversation followed,
in which present duty was discussed, and each resolved to help the
good cause. Before leaving the avenue, under the shade of the two
limes which graced its entrance, without previous concert, but as
if moved by a simultaneous influence, we uncovered and _looked to_
old George. He quite understood the look, and feeling the impulse,
he engaged in prayer. His words had the rich unction of Christian
experience; they lifted us up for the time until we felt as if inside
the audience-chamber; he spoke as one speaks to a father and friend;
it was not wrestling, it was more like Hezekiah’s spreading out the
letter of the Assyrian captain before the Lord in the temple. The close
of the prayer for light and direction was fervent,—that every one of
us may ask, “Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?” and do it with all
our might, as good soldiers, and good servants, and good stewards.
During the prayer was heard an occasional “amen,” and there was a
unanimous “amen” at its close, a very uncommon thing in such exercises
in Scotland.
All had shaken hands with George, and were bidding good-bye to each
other, when George said: “My freends, I’m gaun to ask a favour. I am a
descendant of John Brown o’ Priesthill, the carrier that was shot by
Claverhouse. I hae his Bible and Psalm-book, and table and arm-chair. I
wad like them to be used at the Annie Green on Sabbath by Mr. Barrie.
They hae served the same purpose wi’ Cameron and Peden and MacMillan
in the covenantin’ times, and I think the blood o’ the martyrs is noo
springing into the seed of the Church.”
“Certainly,” was the unanimous reply.