The man who in this remarkable way secured the recommendation and interest of Fletcher was the first of what is now the long roll of good and useful men whom the college has sent forth into the evangelical ministry at home and into the great mission field of the world.

Trevecca House was formally opened and dedicated as a theological college on August 24, 1768, the anniversary of the birthday of the foundress. Whitefield preached the sermon, choosing as his text Exodus xx. 24, "In all places where I record My name, I will come unto thee and bless thee." The next Sunday he addressed a congregation of some thousands gathered in the courtyard of the college, from the words, "Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ."

From its foundation the college has combined both the literary and theological training. While estimating literary and theological learning at a very high value, the aim has always been first and foremost to train earnest spiritual evangelistic preachers. The college has been almost as much a home as a seminary. The students have always resided within its walls, enjoying intimate relationship with each other, and friendly intercourse with the principal. Lady Huntingdon made the college in a very real sense her home, and the institution has never lost the impress of her own fervent piety and the saintly benediction bestowed upon it by Fletcher.

From the very beginning the students combined regular preaching, either in the village near Trevecca, or in the pulpits of the Countess's chapels, with the prescribed courses of study. The college prospered at once, and even Berridge bestowed his characteristic blessing upon it. "I am glad to hear of the plentiful effusion from above on Talgarth. Jesus has now baptized your college, and thereby shown His approbation of the work. You may therefore rejoice, but rejoice with trembling. Faithful labourers may be expected from thence; but if it is Christ's college, a Judas will certainly be found among them."

Mr. Easterbrook's stay at Trevecca was brief. He left early in 1769, and was succeeded, on John Wesley's recommendation, by Joseph Benson, afterwards so eminent in the Methodist movement, and the biographer of Fletcher. But prior to his coming into residence the first anniversary was held, and the occasion was utilised for the holding of a series of very remarkable services. From August 20-23 crowds of people flocked to hear sermons twice daily in the courtyard by Shirley, Fletcher, Rowlands, Peter Williams, Howel Harris, and others. On August 24, 1769, John Wesley administered the sacrament to his fellow-ministers, the students, the Countess and her household. At ten o'clock "Mr. Fletcher preached an exceedingly lively sermon in the court; when he had finished William Williams preached in Welsh till about two o'clock. At two they all dined with Lady Huntingdon; and baskets of bread and meat were distributed among the people in the court, many of whom had come from a great distance. Public service commenced again at three o'clock, when Mr. Wesley preached in the court, then Mr. Fletcher; about five the congregation was dismissed." "Truly," wrote Lady Huntingdon, "our God was in the midst of us, and many felt Him eminently nigh. The gracious influence of the Spirit seemed to rest on every soul."

Although Fletcher did not reside at Trevecca, he frequently visited it during the first three years of its history. "Being convinced that to be filled with the Holy Ghost was a better qualification for the ministry of the Gospel than any classical learning (although that too be useful in its place), after speaking awhile in the schoolroom, he used frequently to say, 'As many of you as are athirst for this fulness of the Spirit, follow me into my room.' On this many of them have instantly followed him, and there continued for two or three hours, wrestling like Jacob for the blessing."

Lady Huntingdon spent much of her time at Trevecca, and for some years bore the entire cost of the college, expending upon it from L500 to L600 a year. The lease of the property at Trevecca expired within a few months of the Countess's death in 1791, and it having become imperative to find a new location, the college was in 1792 removed to Cheshunt in Hertfordshire, about twelve miles from London, where it has ever since continued to flourish.

During the century and a quarter of its existence Cheshunt College has rendered good service to the Church of Christ. Among the students educated at Trevecca were such men as John Clayton of the Weigh House Chapel, Roby of Manchester, and Matthew Wilks of the Tabernacle. The longer roll of those who entered after 1792 contains such names as Joseph Sortain of Brighton, and James Sherman of Surrey Chapel, in the ministry of the home churches; and is peculiarly rich in men who have done and are still doing noble service in the great mission field of the world. The flame of missionary enthusiasm has ever burnt brightly at Cheshunt. Among the many who have gone to their well-earned rest are men like Dr. Turner of Samoa, and James Gilmour of Mongolia. In the succession of able and devoted workers for the Church at home and for the heathen abroad, sent forth year by year, the good work begun at Trevecca is still living and growing.



VIII.

THE CALVINISTIC CONTROVERSY.

The leaders of the great revival of the eighteenth century were divided into two great groups, the one headed by John Wesley, the other by George Whitefield. The Calvinism of the latter at times seemed dangerously rigid to the former; while Whitefield sometimes spoke and acted as though he feared that in preaching free grace Wesley lost sight altogether of the Divine sovereignty. So sharply marked was the divergence of view that for a time it interfered with their co-operation. Mainly by Lady Huntingdon's influence, as we have seen, in 1750 unity was restored. For twenty years the two wings of the evangelical army laboured harmoniously; but in 1770 the doctrinal strife was renewed in a way and with a vehemence that separated the two sections; although in most cases it did not affect the mutual love and personal esteem in which the contending parties held each other.

At the annual conference of his ministers, held in August, 1770 (the year of Whitefield's death), John Wesley drew up his fateful minute on Calvinism. Intended solely for the guidance of his own preachers, Wesley apparently had not contemplated the use to which these statements might be put in controversy; if so, they would in all probability have been more carefully guarded. He also expected them to be considered as a whole, and could hardly have foreseen the use soon to be made of fragments torn from their context. However this may be, soon after their publication the sky was overcast, and Wesley found himself in the centre of an embittered theological controversy, in which, after he had in vain striven to maintain peace by explanation and concession, he vigorously maintained what he held to be the truth. He did this the more because the Calvinism of the eighteenth century found itself face to face with a dangerous Antinomianism. This was rife among the Moravians; some of Wesley's own preachers adopted it; John Nelson fought it to the death in Yorkshire; and it was in the face of this state of affairs that the minute was penned.

Lady Huntingdon from the first took great umbrage at the teaching of the minute. She apprehended "that the fundamental truths of the Gospel were struck at and considering Mr. Wesley's consequence in the religious world, as standing at the head of such numerous societies, thought it incumbent on them to show their abhorrence of such doctrines." She further declared "that whoever did not wholly disavow them should quit her college."

Wesley, on the other hand, thought the time had come when it was his duty to act the part of a faithful pastor towards the good Countess. "For several years I had been deeply convinced that I had not done my duty with regard to that valuable woman; that I had not told her what I was convinced no one else would dare to do, and what I knew she would hear from no other person, but possibly might hear from me. But being unwilling to give her pain I put it off from time to time. At length I dare not delay any longer lest death should call one of us hence; so I at once delivered my own soul by telling her all that was in my heart."

Lady Huntingdon on her part acted promptly and vigorously. Mr. Benson having defended the minute, was dismissed from Trevecca. Fletcher, by whom Benson's appointment had been arranged, visited the college in March, 1771, preached under great difficulties, and proffered his resignation, which Lady Huntingdon accepted at once.

All hope of a peaceful settlement was now at an end. Lady Huntingdon drew up a circular inviting the clergy of all denominations to assemble at the Wesleyan Conference at Bristol in August, 1771, and protest against the obnoxious minute. It is needful to quote some extracts from this circular in order that the position of the Countess may be fully perceived. "The minutes given by John Wesley we think ourselves obliged to disavow, believing such principles repugnant to Scripture and the whole plan of salvation under the new covenant. In union with all Protestant and Reformed Churches we hold faith alone in the Lord Jesus Christ for the sinner's justification, sanctification, righteousness, and complete redemption. And that He, the only wise God, our Saviour, is the First and Last, the Author and Finisher, the Beginning and the End of man's salvation: wholly by the sacrifice of Himself to complete and perfect all those who believe. And that under this covenant of free grace for man He does grant repentance, remission of sins, and meetness for glory, for the full and true salvation to eternal life; and that all called good works are alike the act of His free grace.... We mean to enter into no controversy on the subject; but, separated from all party bigotry, and all personal prejudice to Mr. Wesley, the Conference, or his friends, do hereby most solemnly protest against the doctrine contained in these minutes."

The leader and champion on the part of Lady Huntingdon was the Honourable and Rev. Walter Shirley, grandson of the first Earl Ferrars, and her own first cousin. He was an able, fervent, eloquent man, who both in Ireland and England had given full proof of his ministry, and at first was left almost alone in the conflict. Wesley wrote to Lady Huntingdon on June 19, 1771, ending with these words, "You have one of the first places in my esteem and affection; and you once had some regard for me. But it cannot continue if it depends on my seeing with your eyes, or my being in no mistake. What if I were in as many errors as Mr. Law himself? If you were, I should love you still, provided your heart was still right with God. My dear friend, you seem not well yet to have learned the meaning of these words, which I desire to have ever written upon my heart, 'Whoever doeth the will of My Father which is in heaven, the same is My brother, and sister, and mother.'"

As the time for the conference drew on, it became apparent that the protestors had no standing place there. Only those who were actual members of the conference could attend. Hence, instead of the large number looked for, Shirley and seven others only appeared. The circular, which perhaps was needlessly strong in its statements, had been withdrawn the day before the conference met. Wesley allowed Shirley to appear at the third session of the conference, and after careful consideration a declaration was drawn up stating that as the minutes of 1770 "have been understood to favour justification by works," "we abhor the doctrine of justification by works;" "that we have no trust or confidence but in the alone merits of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, for justification or salvation, either in life, death, or the day of judgment. And though no one is a real Christian believer (and consequently cannot be saved) who doth not good works when there is time and opportunity, yet our works have no part in meriting or purchasing our justification, from first to last, either in whole or part." Wesley and fifty-three of his ministers signed this, John Nelson and Thomas Olivers alone refusing.

Shirley, on the other hand, was constrained to sign a public avowal that "he was convinced that he had mistaken the meaning of the doctrinal points" of the minute. Fletcher meanwhile had written his five letters to Shirley, and the MS. was in Wesley's hands during the conference. Unfortunately he ordered it to be printed, and then left for Ireland. Fletcher, after learning the issue of the conference, would have liked to stay their publication, but in Wesley's absence this could not be done. Thus appeared the first portion of Fletcher's famous Checks to Antinomianism. Into the subsequent controversy, extending over several years, many writers were drawn, the chief being on Wesley's side, Fletcher and Olivers; and on Lady Huntingdon's, Shirley, Toplady, Berridge, Sir Richard and Rowland Hill. Many bitter words were written, and much said and done that would have been far better left unsaid and undone. But through it all even Toplady, Wesley's bitterest opponent, could say of Olivers, "I am glad I saw him, for he appears to be a person of stronger sense and better behaviour than I had imagined;" and Berridge welcomed Fletcher to Everton after a twenty years' absence, with tears in his eyes, crying, "My dear brother, how could we write against each other when we both aim at the same thing, the glory of God and the good of souls!"



IX.

SPA FIELDS CHAPEL.

In addition to the constant services held in her different London houses by her chaplains and others, Lady Huntingdon opened and supported several chapels in the capital. The first was leased in 1770 in Ewer Street. The next was in Princess Street, Westminster, and was opened in 1774. Then came Mulberry Gardens Chapel at Wapping, where George Burder sometimes and John Clayton very often preached. Towards the close of 1776 negotiations for the purchase of what was known as the Pantheon, a large building in Spa Fields, one of "the places where Satan had his seat," were commenced. Owing to the advice of Shirley and Toplady, the completion of the purchase was delayed; but at length the Countess wrote: "My heart seems strongly set upon having this temple of folly dedicated to Jehovah-Jesus, the great Head of His Church and people. I feel so deeply for the perishing thousands in that part of London that I am almost tempted to run every risk; and though at this moment I have not a penny to command, yet I am so firmly persuaded of the goodness of the Master whose I am and whom I desire to serve, that I shall not want gold or silver for the work." Nor did she. A company of gentlemen secured it, fitted it up as a chapel, and on July 5, 1777, John Ryland of Northampton preached the opening sermon.

Unforeseen and far-reaching consequences followed hard upon the opening of this place of worship. The Rev. W. Sellon, incumbent of St. James, Clerkenwell, the parish in which the new chapel stood, was a pluralist, holding no less than four ecclesiastical appointments, yielding him in all L1500 a year. Destitute himself of any knowledge of or sympathy for Gospel preaching, he resented this attempt to feed "the hungry sheep" of his parish. He invoked the law against Mr. Jones and Mr. Taylor, both clergymen of the Established Church, who were conducting the services at Spa Fields with conspicuous success. Sellon claimed the right of preaching in Spa Fields whenever he wished, and asserted his right to all the moneys derived from sittings and other sources. He obtained a verdict in the Consistorial Court inhibiting Jones and Taylor and closing the church. To meet this state of affairs, Lady Huntingdon acquired the building in her own right, changed the earlier name of Northampton Chapel into Spa Fields Chapel, and appointed Dr. Haweis, one of her chaplains, to preach. Sellon again applied to the Ecclesiastical Courts, and obtained an inhibition prohibiting any clergyman of the Established Church, whether Lady Huntingdon's chaplain or not, from preaching in Spa Fields.

Lady Huntingdon rose to the occasion. She was not the woman to allow an altogether unworthy opposition to defeat what she felt to be God's work. Since the law upheld Sellon, she in her turn invoked it. Under the Toleration Act she claimed and exercised her rights. "I am reduced," she wrote, "to turn the finest congregation, not only in England, but in any part of the world into a Dissenting meeting." Mr. Wills and Mr. Taylor, two clergymen who were prominent at this time among the Countess's helpers, both determined to secede from the Established Church; and thus once and for ever she disposed of Mr. Sellon's claims and prerogatives. Mr. Wills became the regular minister of the church. It was in this building that the first annual sermon of the London Missionary Society was preached by Dr. Haweis, and for over a hundred years Spa Fields Chapel was a centre of light and help and healing for that part of London.

This legal conflict had placed those numerous and able clergymen who had been in the habit of preaching in Lady Huntingdon's chapels in a very awkward position. They had to choose between two masters. Not unnaturally they remained in the Established Church. Hence from 1779 Romaine, Venn, Jones, and many others, though still in full sympathy with the Countess's work, ceased to preach in her chapels.

The students educated at Trevecca now rendered services of great value. In addition to their itinerating labours, they gradually filled the pulpits thus left vacant in the chapels. Hitherto the great majority of them had sought ordination in the Church of England, such having always been Lady Huntingdon's desire for them. This being no longer possible, the first public ordination of Trevecca students took place at Spa Fields March 9, 1783, when Mr. Wills and Mr. Taylor ordained six young men to the work of the ministry. It was on this occasion that the well-known Fifteen Articles, subscription to which became essential for entrance into the college, or into any of the pulpits under Lady Huntingdon's control, were first publicly read.

"Lady Huntingdon never intended her chapels or societies to be organised into a denomination—she never thought of providing for them an ecclesiastical constitution as such. As she intended and sustained them they were simply evangelising agencies. The spiritual necessities of her day induced her to become a builder of chapels for Evangelical preaching and worship. These she sustained and ruled as her own private property, devoted by her to the service of Christ, but disposable by her own uncontrolled will. No elements of ecclesiastical constitution or permanence are to be found in such an agency. Nor are there in the trusts declared after her death. The trustees of her chapels are invested with absolute powers of government, like her own." [1]

[Footnote 1: Address by Dr. Allon in the Centenary Celebration of Cheshunt College, p. 33.]

By her will dated January 11,1790, Lady Huntingdon bequeathed "all her chapels, houses, furniture therein, and all the residue of her estates and effects to Thomas Haweis and Janetta Payne, his wife, Lady Ann Erskine, and John Lloyd." These persons were thus constituted trustees of all her property, to administer it all to the best of their ability, in harmony with what they knew to be her wishes. Many of the buildings associated with her name and ministers were local trusts, so that the power of the Connexion trustees never extended over more than a portion of the churches which her evangelistic zeal had founded or strengthened. It was almost inevitable that such an arrangement should be fatal to development, and so it has proved.

The latest sketch of Lady Huntingdon's life thus sets forth the present position of the Connexion: "The Fifteen Articles are the bond and doctrinal basis of administration in the Connexion; and in the words of the Countess, written when she left the Church of England, 'Our ministers must come recommended by that neutrality between Church and Dissent—secession.' Beyond this the Connexion has no act of uniformity. The worship, according to the varying needs of different localities, may be liturgical or non liturgical. Congregations are allowed much liberty in the form of their self-government." [1]

[Footnote 1: The Countess of Huntingdon and her Connexion, edited by Rev. J.B. Figgis, M.A., p. 48.]



When Lady Huntingdon died there were only seven chapels in the legal possession of her representatives; but there were in all about one hundred in close union with and considered as together forming her Connexion. In the century succeeding her decease, while the number vested in the trustees of the Connexion increased from seven to thirty-three, the total number diminished to less than one half. Not a few of those included in the latter half became Congregational Churches, and remain in that fellowship up to this time. Some have been swept away by modern improvements, and never rebuilt elsewhere. The steady pressure of life and thought during the last half century has told rather against the development of churches which stand apart from the life and associations on the one hand of the Established Church, and on the other of Nonconformity. But the mere enumeration of the chief chapels yet remaining, either in the central or in special local trusts, is interesting as an illustration of how the evangelising influence of Lady Huntingdon and her preachers extended to all corners of the kingdom. They are found at Bath, Bristol, Brighton, Canterbury, Cheltenham, Ely, Exeter, Hereford, Kidderminster, Malvern, Margate, Norwich, St. Ives, Cornwall, Rochdale, Swansea, Spa Fields, Tunbridge Wells, Worcester, and Yarmouth.



X.

CLOSING YEARS.

Until the close of her long life of eighty-four years, Lady Huntingdon retained much of that vigour of intellect which had marked the whole of her career. In spiritual life also she continued to develop year by year. In a letter written to an old ministerial friend on April 26, 1790, she says, "Here (in my heart) every wild and warm imagination, intoxicated by pride and self-love, must end; and submit, not only to learn of the poorest and most afflicted Man in our nature, but also to find in Him, and in Him alone, a suitable relief for all our misery; and, through the same medium, a free access to all divine and heavenly wisdom, whenever a sense of our own evil renders us sufficiently conscious of our wants. Thus faith, that faith which is the substance or subsistence of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, must carry the day; and by it walking in the light, as God is in the light, the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses us from all sin; while His heavenly and Divine Spirit, daily carrying us forward, leads us experimentally into those various states which He Himself has declared to be truly blessed."

The decay of her bodily powers was hastened by the breaking of a blood-vessel in November, 1790. During the ensuing illness at her house next door to Spa Fields Chapel she said to Lady Ann Erskine, who was continually with her, "I am well, all is well—well for ever; I see wherever I turn my eyes, whether I live or die, nothing but victory." From this attack she partially recovered, and for months she lingered in a weakened state, eager up to the last for the extension of her Master's kingdom. About a week before her death she was confined to her bed, and during this time she was greatly interested in a scheme for sending missionaries to the South Seas. Lady Ann Erskine and the other watchers, who were unremitting in their attentions, heard her praying day and night, and saying at one time, "I am reconciled in the arms of love and mercy;" and at another, "I long to be at home; oh, I long to be at home!" Only an hour before her death she asked, "Is Charles' letter come?" referring to a request that had been sent to the Rev. Thomas Charles of Bala, asking him to come and preach at Spa Fields. Almost the last words that fell from her lips were a testimony to the strength and clearness of her faith: "My work is done—I have nothing to do but to go to my Father." Soon after saying these words, on June 17, 1791, she "fell asleep in Jesus." She was buried in the family vault at Ashby de la Zouch.

Lady Huntingdon, whose long life thus triumphantly closed, was happy in many ways. She possessed rank and a competency and all the social advantages which such things involve. She was blessed with exceptional vigour of body, of mind, and of spirit. She was happy also in the time of her earthly life. Above all was she happy in the fact that she came so early and so completely under the power of saving faith in the Lord Jesus and under the renewing power of the Holy Spirit. From that time she threw herself into God's work; and by her zeal, ability, and consecration, quite as much as by her rank and wealth, became one of the spiritual landmarks of a wonderful century.

From a course which she believed to be right even John Wesley could not move her; and on one occasion she showed her power even to the Archbishop of Canterbury. About 1770 the prelate then holding that high office, and his wife, gave some balls and parties which scandalised even the gay votaries of fashion who attended them. Remonstrances which Lady Huntingdon addressed to the archbishop, Dr. Cornwallis, through relatives, being treated with ridicule and contempt, she appealed direct to George III. The King and Queen received her most graciously, conversed with her about her religious work for more than an hour, and a few days later surprised the Archbishop by a letter requesting the summary suppression of these "improprieties." The prelate was probably as much astonished as shortly afterwards a lady was, who, in the King's presence, said Lady Huntingdon must surely be insane since she had ventured to "preach to His Grace." "Pray, madam," said the King after he had assured her she was quite mistaken, "have you ever been in company with her?" "Never!" "Then never form your opinion of any one from the ill-natured remarks and censures of others."

Fitted to shine in courts, in an age notoriously pleasure-loving, profligate, and irreligious, she deliberately and whole-heartedly cast in her lot with the despised people of God, "accounting the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt." She was tried by repeated bereavements, and she had to bear the heavy cross of a son who lived and died in hostility to the Christian faith. But these sorrows only deepened her trust in and her hold upon the Lord Jesus Christ. In 1747 she had written, "My heart wants nothing so much as to dispense all—all, for the glory of Him whom my soul loveth." In 1791, after forty-four long years of hard labour, steady faith, and self-sacrificing zeal, she passed to her eternal rest, with the simple trust that He whose glory she had so humbly and earnestly sought had glorified Himself in her. No nobler close could have been desired for such a life than that which God granted: "My work is done—I have nothing to do but to go to my Father."

RICHARD LOVETT, M.A.



RACHEL, LADY RUSSEL.

I.

It is not often that we find the names of person illustrious in the annals of this world also pre-eminent in the records of the kingdom of heaven. "Not many wise, not many noble are called;" but sometimes the wisest and noblest appear among the truest and best of Christians. Such were, in our English history, William, Lord Russell, patriot and martyr, and his wife Rachel, Lady Russell, whom all agree in regarding as at once a heroine and a saint.

With the cause of civil and religious liberty the name of Lord Russell will be for ever associated. He died, as he had lived, the friend of true religion and a firm adherent of the reformed faith. He said that he hoped his death would do more for the Christian good of his country than his life could do. He was beheaded on Saturday, July 21,1683. Upon the scaffold, just before his execution, he handed to the sheriffs a written declaration, in which, after denial of the false charges on which he had been condemned, he concludes with a prayer which shows that far higher than mere political feelings moved him: "Thou, O most merciful Father, hast forgiven all my transgressions, the sins of my youth, and all the errors of my past life, and Thou wilt not lay my secret sins and ignorance to my charge, but wilt graciously support me during the small time of life now before me, and assist me in my last moments, and not leave me then to be disordered by fear or any other temptations, but make the light of Thy countenance to shine upon me. Thou art my Sun and my Shield; and as Thou supportest me by Thy grace, so I hope Thou wilt hereafter crown me with glory, and receive me into the fellowship of angels and saints in the blessed inheritance purchased for me by my most merciful Redeemer, who is at Thy right hand, I trust preparing a place for me, and is ready to receive me, into whose hands I commend my spirit!"

It is of Lady Russell, the wife and the worthy partner of this good man, that we are about to give a brief memoir in our gallery of Excellent Women.



II.

Rachel Wriothesley, born in 1636, was second daughter of Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, by his first wife, Rachel de Ruvigny, of an ancient Huguenot family. Her mother died during her infancy. An elder sister, Lady Elizabeth, married Edward Noel, son of Viscount Campden, afterwards Earl of Gainsborough. Lord Southampton married twice after his first wife's death, but he had only one surviving daughter by his second marriage, who being heiress of Sir Francis Leigh, afterwards Earl of Winchester, the whole of the Southampton property was left to the children of his first marriage, who thus became considerable heiresses. Lady Rachel, when yet young, married Francis, Lord Vaughan, eldest son of the Earl of Carberry, but it was an alliance rather of acceptance than of choice on either side, and the early death of Lord Vaughan left her free to marry again. All we know is that she possessed the love and attachment of her husband and the respect of his family. They had one child who died in infancy.

In 1667, on the death of her father, she inherited the estates of Stratton, but she passed most of her time with her beloved sister, Lady Elizabeth Noel, at Tichfield, in Hampshire. There she became engaged to Mr. Russell, younger son of the Earl of Bedford. They were married in 1669, but she still retained the name of Vaughan till in 1678, on the death of his elder brother Francis, William succeeded to the courtesy title of Lord Russell, when she assumed that of Lady Russell.

Lord Southampton, her father, was a man of high character and great influence. During the civil troubles he took no very decided part until after the misfortunes of Charles I., when his loyalty overmastered all other feelings. In the first disputes between the king and the parliament he disapproved of the high-handed measures of the Court, and, disliking the government of Strafford and the principles of Archbishop Laud, he was considered to be one of the peers attached to the popular cause. But, like Lord Falkland, he could not heartily join the party opposed to the king, whom he accompanied to York and to Nottingham. He was at the fight at Edgehill, and thence went to Oxford, where he remained with the Court during the rest of the war. He was hopeless all along of the success of the royal cause, and was ever the strenuous and unwearying advocate of accommodation and peace. When the execution of the misguided king took place, he was one of the four faithful servants who obtained permission to pay the last sad duty to his remains. From that time he retired to his seat at Tichfield, taking no further part in public affairs. When Cromwell rose to supreme power he greatly wished to meet Lord Southampton, but the meeting was avoided by the earl, and he continued in retirement. His daughter was educated on strict Protestant lines, with every predilection for the doctrines which her mother's family, professing a faith persecuted in their own country, were likely to encourage. Southampton, though attached to the Church of England, was most tolerant towards Dissenters, so much so that Clarendon in his History, while describing him as "a man of exemplary virtue and piety, and very regular in his devotions," says, "He was not generally believed by the bishops to have an affection keen enough for the government of the Church, being willing and desirous that something more might be done to gratify the Presbyterians than they thought right." This spirit of her father was probably the source of the Christian charity as well as piety of Lady Rachel's life, appearing in her letters and animating her whole conduct. Or rather we may say, that both father and daughter were influenced by the old Huguenot principles and connection.



III.

The Marquis de Ruvigny, head of an old family in Picardy, had long been the leader of the Protestant cause in France; in fact, he was almost the minister plenipotentiary of the Huguenots at the Court of Louis XIV. As "Deputy-General of the Reformed Church," he well served the interests of that body, both in getting a patient hearing of their grievances, and obtaining knowledge of the designs of their enemies. He possessed the personal favour and the support of Cardinal Mazarin, and the king himself put confidence in Ruvigny. He was several times employed in services of a confidential kind to the English Government, but was given to understand that any military position or further advancement must be purchased by a change of his religion. To this he never could consent, being a man of sincere and enlightened piety, as well noted for his ability, courage, and conduct. On the recall of Colbert in 1674, he was minister plenipotentiary in England, and remained so for two or three years, when a more pliable tool was found in a M. Courtin. He still retained the good opinion of the French king and his advisers, for on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes he had permission to emigrate to England with his family, a permission granted to no other Protestant noble. His estates, however, were confiscated, as were those of all the emigres. It was the sister of this Marquis, Rachel de Ruvigny, who became the wife of Lord Southampton. For the family of the Ruvignys Lady Russell always retained a warm affection.



IV.

During the fourteen years of her happy married life with William Russell, she was seldom parted from her husband. Their only moments of separation were during his visits of duty to his father at Woburn, and short absences on private or political business. The longest absence was when Lord Russell attended a meeting of parliament summoned by the king at Oxford. Her letters during this period are such as would be written by a loving wife and a tender mother—happy, cheerful messages of personal or domestic interest; yet even in these familiar epistles displaying a character of good sense and deep piety as well as womanly affection. "They are the most touching love-letters I have ever read," says the editor of the published selection from her correspondence. Two or three short bits out of many letters will suffice to show the spirit in which she then wrote. August 24, 1680. "Absent or present, my dearest life is equally obliging, and ever the earthly delight of my soul. It is my great care (or ought to be so) so to moderate my sense of happiness here, that when the appointed time comes of my leaving it, or its leaving me, I may not be unwilling to forsake the one, or be in some measure prepared and fit to bear the trial of the other. This very hot weather does incommode me, but otherwise I am very well, and both your girls. Your letter was cherished as it deserved, and so, I make no doubt, was hers, which she took very ill I should suspect she was directed in, as truly I thought she was, the fancy was so pretty. I have a letter about the buck, as usual, from St. Giles's [the seat of the Earl of Shaftesbury, in Dorsetshire]; but when you come up I suppose it will be time enough to give order. Coming so lately from St. Giles's, I am not solicitous for news for you, especially as Sir Harry Capel is to see your lordship to-morrow. The greatest discourse we have is (next to Bedloe's affidavit) Tongue's accusing of Lord Essex, Lord Shaftesbury, and Lord Wharton, for the contrivers of the plot, and setting his father and Oates to act their parts. This was told me by a black-coat who made me a visit yesterday, but I hear it by nobody else. My sister and Lady Inchiquin are coming, so that I must leave a better diversion for a worse, but my thoughts often return where all my delight is. I am, yours entirely, R RUSSELL."

In a letter sent to Oxford in March, 1681, she says: "The report of our nursery, I humbly praise God, is very good. Master [her son] improves really, I think, every day. Sure he is a goodly child; the more I see of others, the better he appears; I hope God will give him life and virtue. Misses and their mamma walked yesterday after dinner to see their cousin Alington. Miss Kate wished she might see the new-born son, so I gratified her little person. Unless I see cause to add a note, this is all this time,

"From yours only entirely, R. RUSSELL."

The postscript of this letter conveys a curious idea of the suspicion and insecurity of the times: "Look to your pockets. A printed paper says you will have fine papers put into them, and then witnesses to swear."

A later letter, October 20,1681, written on Saturday night, begins: "The hopes I have, my dearest life, that this will be the concluding epistle, for this time, makes me undertake it with more cheerfulness than my others." And it thus closes: "I pray God direct all your consultations; and, my dearest dear, you guess my mind. A word to the wise. I never longed more earnestly to be with you, for whom I have a thousand kind and grateful thoughts. You know of whom I learned this expression. If I could have found one more fit to speak the passion of my soul, I should send it you with joy; but I submit with great content to imitate, but shall never attain to any equality, except that of sincerity; and I will ever be, by God's grace, what I ought and profess,

"Thy faithful, affectionate, and obedient wife,

"R. RUSSELL.

"I seal not this till Sunday morning, that you might know all is well then. Miss sends me word that she is so, and hopes to see papa quickly; so does one more."



V.

In October, 1680, Lord Russell moved in the House of Commons a resolution that they ought to take into consideration how to oppose Popery and prevent a Popish successor to the throne. A Bill was accordingly brought in for excluding the Duke of York from the crown, which passed the House of Commons, but was thrown out by the Lords, to whom it was carried up by Lord Russell, attended by nearly the whole of the Commons. About the same time Lords Shaftesbury, Russell, and Cavendish presented the Duke of York to the grand jury for Middlesex at Westminster Hall, as indictable, being a Popish recusant. In January, 1680-1, the Commons resolved that "until a Bill be passed for excluding the Duke of York, they could not vote any supply, without danger to His Majesty and extreme hazard to the Protestant religion."

Things had come to this crisis after years of arbitrary power, and the humiliation of England in its king being a pensioner of Louis XIV. As far back as 1669 a secret treaty was made with France, Charles engaging to declare war against Holland, France to pay the king L800,000 annually and make a division of the conquests, of which France would have the largest share. In 1670 Colbert mentions Charles's ratification of this treaty, having the king's seal and signature, and a letter from his own hand. This treaty was kept secret from his ministers, and a pretended treaty (un traite simule) was to be promulgated, to which the Protestant members of the Cabinet were to be parties. Colbert further states that he was told in confidence by the Duke of York that the king was ready to declare himself a Catholic, and that he was determined to rule independently of any parliament. The object of Charles was mainly to obtain money from the French king, but the Duke of York had deeper and more dangerous plots to carry out. The marriage of the Princess Mary to the Prince of Orange in 1677 somewhat disturbed the understanding, but a renewal of the treaty in 1678 brought England again to lie at the mercy of the French king. The impeachment of Lord Danby, Lord Treasurer, for the part taken by him in these disgraceful transactions, showed that there were still many Englishmen prepared to act for the honour and freedom of their country. To Lord Russell most men looked as the leader of the patriotic party, and it was determined to get him out of the way as the chief opponent of the arbitrary power of the king and the Popish designs of his brother, who showed the most unrelenting hatred of Russell. It was resolved that he should be brought to trial for treason, as compassing the overthrow of the government of the king. He was arrested on January 26, 1683; after examination was committed to the Tower the same day, and afterwards removed to Newgate.

Lord Russell was found sitting in his study, neither seeking to conceal himself nor preparing for flight. As soon as he was in custody, he gave up all hopes of life, knowing how obnoxious he was to the Duke of York, and only thought of dying with honour and dignity. The Earl of Essex was at his country house when he heard of the arrest of his friend. He could have made his escape, and when pressed by his people to fly, he answered that "his own life was not worth saving if, by drawing suspicion on Lord Russell, it might bring his life into danger." He was taken to the Tower, where, it was announced, he killed himself on the morning of Lord Russell's trial. It is more probable, as was generally believed, that he was murdered, and the report of suicide was spread in order to strengthen the charges against Russell. Monmouth had disappeared, but, actuated by the same generous motive with Essex, he sent a message to Russell, on hearing of his arrest, that "he would surrender himself and share his fate, if his doing so could he of use to him." Russell answered in these words: "It will be of no advantage to me to have my friends die with me."



VI.

The trial of Lord Russell is one of the darkest events in the annals of our courts of law, while it is also one of the most important in the history of England. He was tried at the Old Bailey on the charge of conspiring the death of the King's Majesty, and of raising rebellion in the kingdom. Every point in the legal indictment was strained, and every artifice resorted to, in order to obtain a verdict of guilty. When it was objected that the jury were not freeholders, the objection was overruled, although in a recent trial, when made in the king's behalf, it had been admitted without any difficulty. The evidence of two or three false witnesses was received, and was made to weigh against a mass of testimony borne by the noblest and best men of the time. Nothing could be proved against him, except that he had been seen in the company of Monmouth, Shaftesbury, Algernon Sidney, and others known to be opposed to the measures of the Government. Lords Anglesey, Cavendish, and Clifford, the Duke of Somerset, Doctors Burnet, Tillotson, Cox, FitzWilliam, and many others testified to his mild and amiable character, his peaceable and virtuous life, and the improbability of his being guilty of the charges brought against him. His public services in defence of freedom and of the Protestant religion were the real causes of the resolution to get rid of him. Towards the close of the trial, one of his enemies, the notorious Jefferies, made a violent declamation, and turned the untimely end of Lord Essex in the Tower into a proof of Russell's being privy to the guilty conspiracy. This base insinuation evidently had effect on the jury, who brought in a verdict of guilty. The sentence was considered by all right-minded persons as a shameful injustice. Burnet afterwards spoke of him as "that great but innocent victim, sacrificed to the rage of a party, and condemned only for treasonable words said to have been spoken in his hearing."

Among the incidents of the trial, one of the most memorable was when the prisoner asked for somebody to write, to help his memory. "You may have a servant," said the Attorney-General, Sir Robert Sawyer. "Any of your servants," added the Lord Chief Justice Pemberton, "shall assist you in writing for you anything you please." "My wife is here, my Lord, to do it." "If my Lady please to give herself the trouble," was the civil reply of the Lord Chief Justice. So the noble wife sat by his side throughout the trial to assist and support her husband.

After the condemnation she drew up and carried to the king a petition for a short reprieve of a few weeks; but this was rejected, though the king saw at his feet the daughter of the Earl of Southampton, the best friend he ever had. His answer was, "Shall I grant that man a reprieve of six weeks, who, if it had been in his power, would not have granted me six hours? Besides," he said, "I must break with the Duke of York if I grant it." Seeking the king's life had never been made a charge, far less attempted to be proved, though something had been said about attacking the king's guards. But Russell denied with his last breath any design against the person of the king. All considerations were weak against the passion of revenge with which the king and the Duke of York were actuated. The Duke of York descended so low in his personal animosity that he urged that the execution should take place before Russell's own door in Bloomsbury Square, but the king would not consent to this. An order was signed for his being beheaded in Lincoln's Inn Fields, a week after the trial. It is said that at that time Southampton House, on the north side of Bloomsbury Square, was visible from the place where the scaffold was erected.

Lord Cavendish generously offered to manage his escape, and to stay in prison for him while he should go away in his clothes; but Russell would not entertain the proposal. It was then planned that Cavendish, with a party of horse, should attack the guard on the way to the scaffold, and rescue the innocent victim; but this, too, was overruled, as Russell refused to allow any lives being endangered to save his own. He prepared to receive the stroke with meekness, and with a dignity worthy of his name.

On the Tuesday before his execution, when his wife had left him, he expressed great joy in the magnanimity of spirit he saw in her, and said that parting with her was the worst part of his pain. On Thursday, when she left him to try to gain a respite till Monday, he said he wished she would cease from seeking his preservation, but he did not forbid her trying, thinking that these efforts, though unavailing, might bring some mitigation of her sorrows. On the evening before his death he suffered his young children to be brought by their mother for the final parting. In this trying time he maintained his constancy of temper, though his heart was full of tenderness. When they had gone he said that the bitterness of death was passed, and then spoke much of the noble spirit of her whom he had so loved, and who had been to him so great a blessing. He said, "What a misery it would have been to him if she had not that magnanimit of spirit, joined to her tenderness, as never to have desired him to do a base thing for the saving of his life. There was a signal providence of God in giving him such a wife, where there was birth, fortune, great understanding, true religion, and great kindness to him; but her carriage in his extremity was beyond all. He was glad she and his children were to lose nothing by his death; and it was a great comfort to him that he left his children in the hands of such a mother, and that she had promised to him to take care of herself for their sakes."



It should be stated that when they partook of the Communion together for the last time, she so controlled her feelings, for his sake, as not to shed a tear; although afterwards she wept so much that it was feared she would lose her sight.

The scene of the parting in prison is not only memorable in history, but has been a favourite theme in art, and one of the frescoes in the new Houses of Parliament commemorates it. Many poets have written about the death of Lord Russell, among them Canning, in a supposed letter to his friend Lord Cavendish, in which the noble character of his wife is celebrated as well as the virtues of her husband.

The execution took place not on Tower Hill, as usual with persons of high rank, but in Lincoln's Inn Fields, in order that the citizens of London might be humbled and terrified by the sight, as he was carried in a coach to the scaffold through the City. The effect was very different from what was intended. The death of this one man made many enemies to the king, and though the triumph of liberty and religion was delayed for a few years, the execution of Lord Russell did much to secure the overthrow of arbitrary power, and the defeat of Popery in England at no distant time. The trial took place July 13 and 14, and the execution on July 21, 1683.



VII.

Lord Russell died for the civil and religious liberties of his country. All men, even those who were far from agreeing with his political principles, agreed in regarding him as a man of probity and virtue, and the model of a patriot. He passed through this world with as great and general a reputation as any one of the age, and his memory will be held in everlasting remembrance.

"Bring every sweetest flower, and let me strew The grave where Russell lies, whose tempered blood With calmest cheerfulness for thee resigned, Stained the sad annals of a giddy reign; Aiming at lawless power, though, meanly sunk In loose inglorious luxury."

So sang of him the poet of the Seasons, Thomson, in his famous apostrophe to Britannia as the land of liberty.

One of the first Acts of King William III. after the Revolution, was to reverse the attainder of Lord Russell. In the preamble of this Bill, which was the second that passed in his reign, after receiving the Royal assent, his execution was called a murder: and in November of the same year, 1689, the House of Commons appointed a committee "to inquire who were the advisers and promoters of the murder of Lord Russell." In the year 1694 his father was created Marquis of Tavistock and Duke of Bedford. The reasons for bestowing these honours were stated in the preamble of the patent in these terms: "And this, not the least, that he was the father of Lord Russell, the ornament of his age, whose great merits it was not enough to transmit by history to posterity, but they (the King and Queen) were willing to record them in their royal patent, to remain in the family as a monument consecrated to his consummate virtue, whose name could never be forgot, so long as men preserved any esteem for sanctity of manners, greatness of mind, and a love of their country, constant even to death. Therefore, to solace his excellent father for so great a loss, to celebrate the memory of so noble a son, and to excite his worthy grandson, the heir of such mighty hopes, more cheerfully to emulate and follow the example of his illustrious father, they entailed this high dignity upon the Earl and his posterity."

The first Duke of Bedford (fifth Earl) lived till September, 1700. He had six sons and three daughters, besides the martyred son. William, married to the daughter of the Earl of Southampton. They had one son, Wriothesley, who succeeded his grandfather as Duke of Bedford in 1700, and died of small-pox, in 1711, in the 31st year of his age. Of two daughters, the elder married William Lord Cavendish, afterwards Duke of Devonshire, and the second married John Manners, Lord Ross, afterwards Duke of Rutland. A third daughter died unmarried.

A striking anecdote is recorded of King James II. addressing himself in the time of his extremity, in 1688, to the aged Earl of Bedford, saying, "My Lord, you are an honest man, have great credit in the State, and can do me signal service." "Ah, sir," replied the Earl, "I am old and feeble, I can do you but little service; but I had a son once that could have assisted you, but he is no more." James was so struck with this reply, that he could not speak for some minutes, and it is to be hoped that he felt remorse for the death of Lord Russell.

When the attainder on Russell was removed by King William III., the same justice was done to his friend Algernon Sidney, who is united with him in the famous lines of Thomson's patriotic remembrance:

"With him His friend the British Cassius, fearless lad, Of high determined spirit, roughly brave, By ancient learning to the enlightened love Of ancient freedom warmed."

Algernon Sidney, unlike Russell, was in theory not averse to Republicanism, but the accusations are false as to his being a sceptic or a deist, as his own dying apology attests. He says: "God will not suffer this land, where the Gospel has of late flourished more than in any part of the world, to become a slave of the world. He will not suffer it to be made a land of graven images; He will stir up witnesses of the truth, and in His own time spirit His people to stand up for His cause, and deliver them. I lived in this belief, and am now about to die in it. I know my Redeemer liveth; and as He hath in a great measure upheld me in the day of my calamity, I hope that He will still uphold me by His Spirit in this last moment, and giving me grace to glorify Him in my death, receive me into the glory prepared for those that fear Him, when my body shall be dissolved. Amen." These were the last words of Algernon Sidney. It is noteworthy that the Duke of Monmouth, in his Declaration against James II, among other things, accuses him of ordering the barbarous murder of the Earl of Essex in the Tower, and of several others, to conceal it; and he gave as a reason for his appeal to arms, in his unhappy rebellion, the unjust condemnation of Sidney and of Russell.



VIII.

It has been remarked that the incidents in the life of Lady Russell, apart from the one memorable public event of her husband's trial and death, are so few and her merits confined so much to the domain of private life and feminine duties, that her character, unlike that of most heroines, deserves to be held up more to the example than the admiration of her countrywomen. Few of her sex have been placed in such a conspicuous situation, but fewer, after behaving with unexampled fortitude and dignity, have shrunk from public notice, and in the sight of God only have led unobtrusive, quiet lives in the daily performance of domestic duties as a careful and conscientious mother and guardian of her children.

It is this that makes the record of her life so valuable for all time. If she, who had such an unusual and terrible affliction, was enabled, by the grace of God in the exercise of reason and religion, to show such complete submission to the Divine will, and such patient continuance in well-doing, her example is well fitted for the comfort and succour of all who in this transitory life are in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adversity.

One of the earliest letters, written to a friend who sought to comfort her in her deep sorrow, reveals the noble spirit and wise resolution of a true Christian. She says: "Fresh occasions recalling to my memory the dear object of my affections must happen every day, I may say every hour of the longest life I can live. But I must seek such a victory over myself that immoderate passions may not break forth, and I must return into the world so far as to act that part incumbent upon me, in faithfulness to him to whom I owe as much as can be due to man. It may be that I may obtain grace to live a stricter life of holiness to my God, who will not always let me cry to Him in vain. On Him I will wait till He hath pity upon me, humbly imploring that by the mighty aid of His Holy Spirit He will touch my heart with greater love to Himself. Then I shall be what He would have me. But I am unworthy of such a spiritual blessing, who remain so unthankful a creature for those earthly ones I have enjoyed, because I have them no longer. Yet God, who knows our frames, will not expect that when we are weak we should be strong. This is much comfort under my deep dejections." And in a letter to Doctor Tillotson she said: "Submission and prayer are all we know that we can do towards our own relief in our distresses. The scene will soon alter to that peaceful and eternal home in prospect."

It is interesting to know that one who helped to bring her to this state of mind was the Rev. John Howe, a man noted for wisdom as well as piety, who had been chaplain to Oliver Cromwell and to his son Richard Cromwell. Although too long to insert in full, some sentences selected from the letter are worthy of quotation.

"The cause of your sorrow, madam, is exceeding great. The causes of your joy are inexpressibly greater. You have infinitely more left than you have lost. Doth it need to be disputed whether God is better and greater than man? Or more to be valued, loved, and delighted in? And whether an eternal relation be more considerable than a temporary one? Was it not your constant sense, in your best outward state, 'Whom have I in heaven but Thee, O God, and whom can I desire on earth, in comparison of Thee?' (Psalm lxxiii. 25). Herein the state of your ladyship's case is still the same, if you cannot with greater clearness and with less hesitation pronounce these latter words. The principal causes of your joy are immutable, such as no supervening thing can alter. You have lost a most pleasant, delectable earthly relation. Doth the blessed God hereby cease to be the best and most excellent good? Is His nature changed? His everlasting covenant reversed or annulled, which is ordered in all things, and sure, and is to be all your salvation and all your desire, whether He make your house on earth to grow or not to grow? (2 Samuel xxiii. 5).

"Let, I beseech you, your mind be more exercised in contemplating the glories of that state into which your blessed consort is translated, which will mingle pleasure and sweetness with the bitterness of your afflicting loss, by giving you a daily intellectual participation through the exercise of faith and hope in his enjoyments. He cannot descend to share with you in your sorrows; but you may thus every day ascend and partake with him in his joys."

After much devout reasoning of this kind, the good and wise preacher makes a practical appeal: "Nor should such thoughts excite over-hasty, impatient desire of following presently to heaven, but to the endeavour of serving God more cheerfully on earth for your appointed time, which I earnestly desire your ladyship to apply yourself to, as you would not displease God, who is our only hope; nor be cruel to yourself, nor dishonour the religion of Christians, as if they had no other consolations than the earth can give, and earthly power can take from them. Your ladyship, if any one, would be loth to do anything unworthy of your family and parentage. Your highest alliance is to that Father and family above, whose dignity and honour are, I doubt not, of highest account with you."

Mr. Howe wrote to Lady Russell without revealing his name, but she laid to heart the excellent counsel he gave. The style of the letter, and some special phrases in it, discovered who was the author, and Lady Russell, as we learn from Dr. Calamy, Howe's biographer, wrote to him a letter of warm thanks, and told him he must not expect to remain concealed[1]. She promised to endeavour to follow the excellent advice he had given. She often afterwards corresponded with him, and the friendship lasted during Howe's life.

[Footnote 1: Cf. John Howe, Biographical Series, No. 94 (R.T.S.).]



IX.

In the great public affairs of the time she could not but feel interest, and her letters abound in references to the most striking events as they occur. Her sister, Lady Elizabeth Noel, was in Paris at the time of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and describes the terrible scenes of which she heard or witnessed. Hundreds of thousands were driven into exile, their property seized by their persecutors; those who remained being exposed to the cruelty of the dragonnades. Then there were the excitements at home, following the Monmouth rebellion and the bloody assizes where Judge Jefferies obtained his notoriety. The trial of the seven bishops; the overthrow of the Stuart cause; the glorious revolution of 1688 and the accession of King William and Mary; the war in Ireland, where the de Ruvignys served under William and the Mareschal Schomberg; the reign of Queen Anne and the Hanoverian succession under George I.; all these historical events are referred to in Lady Russell's correspondence which she carried on with the most notable persons of the time. A letter of hers to King William about the King's favourable designs for the Duke of Rutland and his family was found in his pocket when he died. Several letters are addressed to Queen Mary. The great Duke of Marlborough told her that if ever there appeared a chance of Popery getting again the upper hand, he would retire from public affairs. Even the proud Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, regarded Lady Russell with marked deference and respect. In reference to the accession of King William she wrote, "Regard for the public welfare carried me to advise the princess to acquiesce in giving William the crown. However, as I was fearful about everything the princess did while she was thought to be advised by me, I could not satisfy my own mind till I had consulted with several persons of wisdom and integrity, and particularly with the Lady Russell of Southampton House, and Dr. Tillotson, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. I found them all unanimous in the opinion of the expediency of the settlement proposed, as things were then situated."

Her friends and her country shared with her own family the heart and the correspondence of Lady Russell. Her children she lived to see well provided for in honourable and influential positions. Her second daughter was married to the son of her husband's dearest friend, Lord Cavendish, and she became the Duchess of Devonshire. The eldest daughter was unmarried, but the third became the Duchess of Rutland. Her only son, afterwards Duke of Bedford, was in high favour in the reign of William and Mary, and acted as High Constable of England at the coronation of Queen Anne. His education and training was carefully directed by his mother. One of her letters is to his grandfather, then Earl of Bedford, interceding with him for one of the errors of her son's early life. He had been tempted, as many young Englishmen still are, to gamble when on his travels, but his debt taught him a lesson which saved him from ever after getting into trouble in this way. Lady Russell, while pleading for his forgiveness, undertook to be answerable for the whole loss which had been incurred. It is a sensible and motherly letter.

To give adequate idea of the whole correspondence would occupy much space, and we can only briefly refer to a few of the letters at different periods of her long life of widowhood. To Burnet, the Bishop of Salisbury, she writes, in 1690: "When anything below is the object of our love, at one time or other it will be a matter of our sorrow. But a little time will put me again into my settled state of mourning; for a mourner I must be all my days on earth, and there is no need I should be other. My glass runs low: the world does not want me nor do I want it: my business is at home and within a narrow compass. I must not deny, as there was something so glorious in the object of my biggest sorrow, I believe that in some measure kept me from being overwhelmed."

At one time Lady Russell was in danger of losing her sight, but being couched for cataract, she recovered sufficiently to continue her correspondence.

In the early years of her great loss, while at first overwhelmed in spirit, she yet resolves, in submission to the will of God, to bear her calamities with patience and courage. "My yet disordered thoughts," she writes to Dr. Fitzwilliam, "can offer me no other than such words as express the deepest sorrows, and confused as my yet amazed mind is. You, that knew us both, and how we lived, must allow I have just cause to bewail my loss. Who can but shrink at such a blow, till, by the mighty aid of His Holy Spirit, we will let the gift of God, which He hath put into our hearts, interpose. That reason which sets a measure to our souls in prosperity, will then suggest many things which we have seen and heard to moderate us in such sad circumstances as mine." "Can I regret his quitting a lesser good for a bigger? Oh! if I did steadfastly believe, I could not be dejected; for I will not injure myself to say I offer to my mind any infirm consolation to supply this loss. No, I most willingly forsake this world, this vexatious troublesome world, in which I have no other business but to rid my soul from sin; secure by faith and a good conscience my eternal interests with patience and courage bear my eminent misfortunes; and ever after be above the smiles and frowns of it. And when I have done the remnant of the work appointed me on earth, then joyfully wait for the heavenly perfection, in God's good time, when by His infinite mercy I may be accounted worthy to enter into the same place of rest and repose where he is gone, for whom only I grieve."

Many letters in similar strain are preserved, to Dr. Burnet, Dr. Patrick and other pious friends who like Dr. Fitzwilliam had sent messages of sympathy and consolation. She often refers to the refreshment and satisfaction she had in "endeavouring to do that part towards her children, which their most dear and tender father would not have omitted. These labours, if successful, though early made unfortunate, may conduce to their happiness for the time to come and hereafter." Attendance to these children, through childhood till they were settled in life, she ever reckoned, "her first and chief business," but she gradually undertook various matters of business for relatives and friends, many of whom had recourse to one so wise, unselfish, and sympathetic.



As an example of the interest she took in passing affairs, part of a letter to Dr. Fitzwilliam, in 1689, may be quoted. After replying to some inquiries about the Cambridgeshire clergy, which she could not learn from Lord Bedford, "the parliament houses being so exacting of time," she says: "You hear all the new honours, I suppose: not many new creations, but all are stepping higher; as Lord Winchester is Duke of Bolton; Lord Montague an Earl, still Montague; Falconbridge, who married Mary, daughter of Oliver Cromwell, an Earl called the same; Mordaunt, Earl of Monmouth (afterwards Earl of Peterborough); Churchill an Earl (afterwards Duke of Mailborough); Lumley (Scarborough) made a Viscount, Bentinck is an Earl (afterwards Duke of Portland); Sidney, a Viscount (afterward Earl of Romney). Those that saw this and the last coronation tell me this was much finer and in better order; and if the number of the ladies were fewer, yet their attendance was with more application near the Queen all the time, and with more cheerful faces by a great deal. By what is heard from Scotland, they mean to take the example from England. The last reports from Ireland say, that King James was moving with his army towards the north. And yesterday Lord Burlington said, Coleraine, a great town, was besieged by 6000 men, but that Lord Blaney had sallied out, and so behaved himself that they had raised the siege. D'Avaux who was the French ambassador in Holland, would not speak in council till all the Protestants were put out. So they were, and, as they say afterwards, discharged altogether....

"Lord Devonshire is to be installed at Windsor on St. George's day. My young folks have a longing desire to see the ceremony, and they cannot do it without a night's lodging at Windsor. If I can have that accommodation of your house I will think it a great favour, and will go with them, and look to your house while everybody is gone to the show. I doubt the post can't bring me a return time enough so I am put in hopes this may come to you by a coach; if it does, I do not question your order to your housekeeper to let us in. In confidence of it, I think to send to her, that I believe I shall come and ask your beds for the night."



X.

The following letter to her son (afterwards second Duke of Bedford), written from Stratton in July, 1706, is throughout so wise and good, that we give it without any curtailment. She was then past seventy years of age, and no words could be more fitly pondered by the young, than these from an aged and tried and experienced Christian woman.

"When I take my pen to write this, I am, by the goodness and mercy of God, in a moderate and easy state of health—a blessing I have thankfully felt through the course of a long life, which (with a much greater help), the contemplation of a more durable state, has maintained and upheld me through varieties of providences and conditions of life. But all the delights and sorrows of this mixed state must end; and I feel the decays that attend old age creep so fast on me, that, although I may yet get over some more years however, I ought to make it my frequent meditation, that the day is near, when this earthly tabernacle shall be dissolved, and my immortal spirit be received into that place of purity, where no unclean thing can enter; there to sing eternal praises to the great Creator of all things. With the Psalmist, I believe, 'at His right hand there are pleasures for evermore:' and what is good and of eternal duration, must be joyful above what we can conceive; as what is evil and of like duration, must be despairingly miserable.

"And now, my dear child, I pray, I beseech you, I conjure you, my loved son, consider what there is of felicity in this world, that can compensate the hazard of losing an everlasting easy being; and then deliberately weigh, whether or no the delights and gratifications of a vicious or idle course of life are such, that a wise or thoughtful man would choose or submit to. Again, fancy its enjoyments at the height imagination can propose or suggest (which yet rarely or never happens, or if it does, as a vapour soon vanishes); but let us grant it could, and last to fourscore years, is this more than the quickest thought to eternity? Oh, my child! fix on that word, eternity! Old Hobbes, with all his fancied strength of reason, could never endure to rest or stay upon that thought, but ran from it to some miserable amusement. I remember to have read of some man, who reading in the Bible something that checked him, he threw it on the ground; the book fell open, and his eyes fixed on the word eternity, which so struck upon his mind, that he, from a bad liver, became a most holy man. Certainly, nothing besides the belief of reward and punishment can make a man truly happy in his life, at his death, and after death. Keep innocency, and take heed to the thing that is right; for that shall bring a man peace at the last—peace in the evening of each day, peace in the day of death, and peace after death.

"For my own part, I apprehend, I should not much care (if free from pain) what my portion in this world was,—if a life to continue, perhaps one year or twenty, or eighty; but then, to be dust, not to know or be known any more,—this is a thought that has something of horror in it to me, and always had; and would make me careless, if it were to be long or short; but to live, to die, to live again, has a joy in it; and how inexpressible is that joy, if we secure an humble hope to live ever happily; and this we may do, if we take care to live agreeably to our rational faculties, which also best secures health, strength, and peace of mind, the greatest blessings on earth.

"Believe the word of God, the Holy Scriptures. What most hinders faith, I am persuaded, is ignorance of God's true nature. Look up to the firmament, and down to the deep, how can any doubt a divine power? And if there is, what can be impossible to infinite power? Then, why an infidel in the world? In His Gospel the terrors of God's majesty are laid aside, and He speaks in the still and soft voice of His Son incarnate, the fountain and spring whence flow gladness. The idolatrous heathen perform their worship with trouble and terror; but a Christian, and a good liver, with a merry heart and lightsome spirit: for, examine and consider well, where is the hardship of a virtuous life? (when we have moderated our irregular habits and passions, and subdued them to the obedience of reason and religion). We are free to all the innocent gratifications and delights of life; and we may lawfully, nay, further I say, we ought to rejoice in this beautiful world, and all the conveniences and provisions, even for pleasure, we find in it; and which, in much goodness, is afforded us to sweeten and allay the labours and troubles incident to this mortal state, nay, inseparable, I believe, by disappointments, cross accidents, bad health, unkind returns for good deeds, mistakes even among friends, and what is most touching, death of friends.

"But in the worst of these calamities, the thought of a happy eternity does not alone support, but also revive the spirit of a man; and he goeth forth to his labour with inward comfort, till the evening of his day (that is, his life on earth), and, with the Psalmist, cries out, 'I will consider the heavens even the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained. What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? or the son of man, that Thou shouldest so regard him?' (Psalm viii.) 'Thou madest him lower than the angels, to crown him with glory.' Here is matter of praise and gladness. 'The fool,' as the Psalmist expresses it, 'hath said in his heart, There is no God.' Or, let us consider the man, who is content to own an invisible power, yet tries to believe, that when man has done living on this earth he lives no more: but I would ask, if any of these unhappy creatures are fully persuaded, or that there does not remain in those men at times (as in sickness or sober thoughtfulness) some suspicion or doubt, that it may be other than they try to think. And although they may, to shun such a thought, or be rid of such a contemplation, run away from it to some unprofitable diversion, or, perhaps, suffer themselves to be rallied out of such a thought, so destructive to the way they walk in; yet, to be sure, that man does not feel the peace and tranquillity he does who believes a future state, and is a good man.

"For, although this good man, when his mind may be clouded with some calamity very grievous to him, or the disorder of vapours to a melancholy temper, I say, if he is tempted to some suspicion, that it is possible it may be other than he believes (pray observe) such a surmise or thought, nay, the belief, cannot drive him to any horror: he fears no evil, because he is a good man, and with his life all sorrow ends too: therefore, it is not to be denied, he is the wisest man who lives by the Scripture rule, and endeavours to keep God's laws. His mind is in peace and tranquillity; he walks sure who keeps innocence, and takes heed to the thing that is right. He is secure, God is his friend, that Infinite Being; and He has said, 'Come unto Me, ye that are heavy laden, My yoke is easy.' But guilt is, certainly, a heavy load; it sinks and damps the spirits. 'A wounded spirit who can bear!' And the evil subtle spirit waits (I am persuaded) to drive the sinner to despair; but godliness makes a cheerful heart. Let not past errors discourage; who lives and sins not? God will judge the obstinate, profane, unrelenting sinner, but is full of compassion to the work of His own hand, if they will cease from doing evil and learn to do well, pray for grace to repent, and endeavour with that measure which will be given, if sincerely asked for; for at what time soever a sinner repents (but observe, this is no licence to sin, because at any time we may repent), for that day we may not live to see; and so like the fool in the parable, our lamps be untrimmed when we are called upon. Remember, that to forsake vice is the beginning of virtue; and virtue certainly is most conducive to content of mind and a cheerful spirit. He (the virtuous man) rejoiceth with a friend in the good things he enjoys; fears not the reproaches of any; no evil spirit can approach to hurt him here, or accuse him in the great day of the Lord, when every soul shall be judged according as they have done good or evil. Oh, blessed state! fit for life, fit for death! In this good state I wish and pray for all mankind; but most particularly, and with all the ardour I am capable of, to those I have brought into the world, and those dear to them. Thus are my fervent and frequent prayers directed,—that you may die the death of the righteous, and to this end, that Almighty God would endue you all with spiritual wisdom, to discern what is pleasing in His sight."



XI.

On May 28, 1716, she wrote to her kinsman, the Earl of Galway the second son of the old Marquis de Ruvigny. The elder son was killed at the battle of the Boyne; King William created the brother Earl of Galway. To him the aged lady thus wrote: "'Tis our duty to pray for and trust in the merciful providence of God; then it shall be well in the end, in this world or a better. I beseech God to give the consolation of His Holy Spirit to enable you to struggle with bodily pains; your resignation I have no doubt of, yet Nature will shrink, when the weight is heavy, and presses hard, which will not be imputed, because it is natural.

"I also pray to God to fortify your spirit under every trial, till eternity swallows all our troubles, all our sorrows, all our disappointments, and all our pains in this life. The longest, how short to eternity! All these ought to be my own care to improve my weak self, as the fortitude of your mind, experiences, and knowledge does to you. And I pray for such a portion of them in mercy to me, as may secure an endless glorifying, to so feeble, so ignorant, so mean a creature as myself, that I cannot be too little in my own sight.

"If there be a regency, the intended journey to Chatsworth must be laid aside, as I must now lay aside my pen for want of the day. I am certain of this being a truth, that I am,

"Faithfully and affectionately yours,

"R. RUSSELL."

Later letters to Lord Galway are couched in the same way, the last one thus ending—

"God, for the good you do mankind, grant you some easy years to do good upon earth before you change for a happy eternity. So does desire and pray Lord Galway's truly affectionate cousin, and faithfully such to gratify to the utmost of her ability, R. RUSSELL."

The dear old lady speaks in this letter of "evening creeping upon her," but she lingered to an extreme old age, dying on September 29, 1723, in her 87th year. She lived to see the Protestant rule firmly secured by the Hanoverian succession. In public affairs she continued to take interest, but always in subservience to the higher cause of moral and spiritual advancement. In one of her last letters she says of the son of the king, "I have inquired from Doctor Sloane how the Prince is to-day. He says, 'In a way to do well.' I trust, in the mercy of God, all our divisions shall be so with time."

One of her latest letters is dated September 4, 1716, addressed to her second daughter, the Duchess of Devonshire: "It is to no use to murmur that you could not be satisfied with taking the journey; the rather also because I believe I should have done the same. It is so fine a season I trust your return to Derbyshire will be easy; your mind would not have been such had you not done as you did. I shall be easy with a line or two from Lady Mary [her eldest daughter, who died unmarried in 1719] how you got to Chatsworth. At your first coming you will have a great deal to do, and so for the short time you can stay. I see no cause to fear, but that all will be, as we are, quiet; it is the temper of most to fear, or seem to do so." (She referred to the public tranquillity, of which the rebellion of the year before had left doubts.) "The season is exceedingly fine, not much burnt up; but the farmers, for talk's sake, ever wishing for what they have not; but it is good walking, and that is my best diversion. I cannot easily add any words to make this more a diversion to you, than that I thank God I have as much health as my years can have; and memory as yet enough to take a pleasure when I hear of what I love most, and desire all good may be their portion; which will afford content, while any thought whatever of good or ill remains in the head or heart of

"Your ever-affectionate mother, R. RUSSELL."

The spirit in which she bore the first overwhelming passion of grief may be best seen in the letters written by her to Doctor Fitzwilliam, who had been chaplain at Woburn, and who afterwards returned them to Mr. Solwood, the librarian there, by whom they were published. In 1819 another volume of letters was published, from the originals in the possession of the Duke of Devonshire. These range from her early married life down to her extreme old age; and contained greater variety of reference to the passing events of her time than are found in the Woburn letters, which are chiefly occupied with personal feelings and experiences. From them may be obtained as perfect a portraiture of Lady Russell as can be desired.

"Her letters," says Bishop Burnet, "are written with an elegant simplicity, with truth and nature, which can flow only from the heart. The tenderness and constancy of her affection for her murdered lord presents an image to melt the soul." Horace Walpole says, "I have now before me a volume of letters of the widow of the beheaded Lord Russell, which are full of the most moving and impressive eloquence." In fact it would be difficult to find a combination of so much good sense, tender affection, womanly fortitude, and deep piety in any collection of letters. It is observable also that in the whole course of these letters there is not to be found a trace of resentment or of reflection upon any person who had caused her husband's death. When James II. was no more king, but a fugitive in a foreign land, she utters no word of triumph over him, nor says that he was justly punished for his cruel crimes. Even the inhuman Jefferies, whose violence helped to get her husband condemned, is passed over in silence, and no reference is made to his disgrace, and his shameful end. She had attained to such moderation of spirit that no trace of anger appears against the unworthy instruments that had brought overwhelming grief upon her. In nothing more than this is the excellence of her Christian character conspicuous.

JAMES MACAULAY, M.A., M.D.



Frances Ridley Havergal

I.

HER EARLY LIFE.

"Oh, 'Thine for ever!' What a blessed thing To be for ever His who died for me! My Saviour, all my life Thy praise I'll sing, Nor cease my song throughout eternity."



Such were the words penned by Frances Ridley Havergal on an important day in her history; and they seem to be a fit expression of the purpose of one, the strains of whose songs shall reverberate through all ages.

Frances Ridley Havergal was born at Astley in Worcestershire on December 14, 1836. She was the youngest daughter of William Henry Havergal, who was rector of Astley. Her second Christian name she got from her godfather, Rev. W.H. Ridley, and rejoiced in the fact that he was descended from the godly martyr, Bishop Ridley.

Her eldest sister Miriam gives a glowing description of Frances:[1]

[Footnote 1: The quotations, when not otherwise acknowledged, are made, and the chief of the facts taken, by kind permission of Messrs. Nisbet & Sons, from Memorials of Frances Ridley Havergal.]

"My recollection of Frances begins with the first day of her life; a pretty little babe even then, and by the time she reached two years of age, with her fair complexion, light curling hair, and bright expression, a prettier child was seldom seen. At that age she spoke with perfect distinctness, and with greater fluency and variety of language than is usual in so young a child. She comprehended and enjoyed any little stories that were told her. I remember her animated look of attention when the Rev. J. East told her about a little Mary who loved the Lord Jesus. We were all taught to read early and to repeat by our dear mother, but as I had now left school I undertook the charming little pupil, teaching her reading, spelling, and a rhyme (generally one of Jane Taylor's), for half an hour every morning, and in the afternoon twenty or thirty stitches of patchwork, with a very short text to repeat next morning at breakfast. When three years old she could read easy books, and her brother Frank remembers how often she was found hiding under a table with some engrossing story. At four years old, Frances could read the Bible and any ordinary book correctly, and had learned to write in round hand; French and music were gradually added; but great care was always taken not to tire her or excite the precocity of her mind, and she never had a regular governess."

In the year 1859 she began to write an autobiography, commencing with her recollections of herself and her surroundings when she was four years old. She thus writes: "Up to the time that I was six years old I have no remembrance of any religious ideas whatever. Even when taken once to see the corpse of a little boy of my own age (four years) lying in a coffin strewn with flowers, in dear papa's parish of Astley, I did not think about it as otherwise than a very sad and very curious thing that that little child should lie so still and cold.... But from six to eight I recall a different state of things. The beginning of it was a sermon preached one Sunday morning at Hallow Church by Mr. (now Archdeacon) Phillpots. Of this I even now retain a distinct impression. It was to me a very terrible one, dwelling much on hell and judgment, and what a fearful thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God. No one ever knew it, but this sermon haunted me, and day and night it crossed me. I began to pray a good deal, though only night and morning, with a sort of fidget and impatience, almost angry at feeling so unhappy, and wanting and expecting a new heart and have everything put straight and be made happy, all at once."

All this time she could not bear being "talked to," or prayed with, though she kept up a custom of going by herself every Sunday afternoon to a quiet room, and after reading a chapter in the New Testament would kneel down and pray; after that she "usually felt soothed and less naughty."

She appears even as a child to have appreciated very keenly the beauties of nature, and in the spring of 1845 she was most anxious to be made "a Christian before the summer comes" so that she might enjoy God's works as she believed a Christian alone could do.

Another soothing influence upon her spirited nature was the presence of any one whom she felt to be more than commonly holy, "not among those nearest and dearest to me at home," she confesses: "how perversely I overlooked them!—but any very pious clergyman or other manifest and shining Christian." "All this while," she continues, "I don't think any one could have given the remotest guess at what passed in my mind, or have given me credit for a single serious thought. I knew I was 'a naughty child,'—never entertained any doubts on the subject; in fact I almost enjoyed my naughtiness in a savage desperate kind of way because I utterly despaired of getting any better, except by being 'made a Christian,' which as months passed on, leaving me rather worse than better, was a less and less hoped-for, though more and more longed-for change."

When she was nearly nine years old, Mr. Havergal was appointed to the rectory of St. Nicholas, Worcester, and thither the family removed. Soon after their arrival, a sermon by the curate upon the text, "Fear not, little flock," aroused her from the feeling of self-satisfaction into which she had drifted. Having a favourable opportunity, she unburdened her heart one evening when alone with the curate, but he did not help the young seeker after peace. He said the excitement of moving and coming into new scenes was the cause most likely of her feeling worse, and that would soon go off; then she was to try and be a good girl and pray. So after that her lips were utterly sealed to all but God for another few years or rather more.

In 1848 her mother became seriously ill, and feeling that she was soon to leave her little girl, she said to her one evening: "Fanny dear, pray to God to prepare you for all that He is preparing for you." The sad event which the mother thus anticipated Frances could not or would not understand.

But what God had prepared for her she did in some measure realise when, a few weeks later, outside the house a funeral procession passed from the rectory to the churchyard, and inside a little girl flung herself on her bed with the lonely cry of a motherless heart, "Oh, mamma, mamma, mamma!" Her bright and apparently thoughtless manner led to the idea that she was heartless, but all the while she was heavy and sad for her loss, and weary because she had not yet received pardon of her sins.

Thus she went on, longing and trying to find peace, until she was fourteen years of age.



II.

RECEIVING "LIFE."

On August 15, 1850, Frances went to school at Belmont. The night before she left, her sister Ellen spoke to her of God's love, and she gave to her the first indication of her real feelings in the words, "I can't love God yet, Nellie!" But it was not to be so for long, however. During the first half-year at school a "revival," as she calls it, took place among the school girls, and she began to be more in earnest about her soul. One night she got into conversation with a Christian companion, and bursting into tears told her in French that she wished to love Jesus but could not. Her companion begged her to go to Jesus and tell Him this. Of this advice she says, "The words of wise and even eminent men have since then fallen on my ear, but few have brought the dewy refreshment to my soul which the simple loving words of my little Heaven-taught schoolfellow did." But peace had not yet come into her soul.

At length, in February, 1851, Frances made a confidante of Miss Cook, who in July, 1851, became her stepmother, and confessed that she desired pardon of her sins above everything else. She thus writes in her autobiography: "'Then, Fanny,' said Miss Cook, 'I think, I am sure, it will not be very long before your desire is granted, your hope fulfilled." After a few more words, she said, "Why cannot you trust yourself to your Saviour at once? Supposing that now, at this moment, Christ were to come in the clouds of heaven, and take up His redeemed, could you not trust Him? Would not His call, His promise be enough for you? Could you not commit your soul to Him, to your Saviour, Jesus?' Then came a flash of hope across me which made me feel literally breathless. I remember how my heart beat. 'I could surely,' was my response; and I left her suddenly and ran away upstairs to think it out. I flung myself on my knees in my room, and strove to realise the sudden hope. I was very happy at last. I could commit my soul to Jesus. I did not and need not fear His coming. I could trust Him with my all for eternity. It was so utterly new to have any bright thoughts about religion that I could hardly believe it could be so, that I really had gained such a step. Then and there I committed my soul to the Saviour—I do not mean to say without any trembling or fear, but I did—and earth and heaven seemed bright from that moment—I did trust the Lord Jesus."

In August, 1851, she went to school at Powick Court, near Worcester; but, owing to severe erysipelas in her face and head, she soon had to leave, and was ordered by the doctor to discontinue all study. She spent some time in Wales, and learnt Welsh very quickly. In November, 1852, she went with her parents to Germany, and attended school, standing alone as a follower of the Saviour among one hundred and ten girls. She progressed very rapidly in her studies. Though as a rule no girl was numbered in order of merit unless she had learnt everything (and she, through lack of time, had not done so), yet at the end of the term on the prize-giving day, when the names were called out, she heard with unspeakable pleasure the words, "Frances Havergal, numero eins!" (number one). The "Englaenderin's" papers and conduct were so good that the masters agreed in council assembled to break through the rule for once and give her the place she deserved.

Her German master at Obercassel, Pastor Schulze-Berge, thus wrote of her: "She showed from the first such application, such rare talent, such depth of comprehension, that I can only speak of her progress as extraordinary. She acquired such a knowledge of our most celebrated authors in a short time as even German ladies attain only after much longer study."

She returned to England with her parents in December, 1853. On July 17, 1854, she was confirmed in Worcester Cathedral. In her case this public profession was a very real act. When asked by the bishop the solemn question to which all have audibly to answer, "I do," the reply of her heart was, "Lord, I cannot without Thee; but oh, with Thy almighty help, I do." In the cathedral she composed the lines with which this sketch begins. She always kept very solemnly the anniversary of this day.

She continued her German, French and English studies, and wrote many small pieces of poetry, the proceeds of which she gave to the Church Missionary Society. In the summer of 1856 she studied Hebrew very diligently; her knowledge and remembrance of the words of Scripture were very remarkable; she learnt the whole of the Gospels, Epistles, Revelation, the Psalms, and Isaiah, and later she added the Minor Prophets to the list.

While she thus grew in knowledge she grew also in grace. In August, 1859, she wrote: "I have lost that weary bondage of doubt and almost despair which chained me for so many years. I have the same sins and temptation as before, and I do not strive against them more than before, and it is often just as hard work. But whereas I could not see why I should be saved, I now cannot see why I should not be saved if Christ died for all. On that word I take my stand, and rest there. I still wait for the hour when I believe He will reveal Himself to me more directly; but it is the quiet waiting of present trust, not the restless waiting of anxiety and danger." That hour, in God's good time, did come.

In 1860 Canon Havergal resigned the rectory of St. Nicholas, Worcester, and Frances had to give up a class of unruly lads which she had taught with much success, one of the class becoming a minister of the Church of England, and another a Scripture-reader. The family removed to the country parish of Shareshill.

In 1861 Frances K. Havergal made her home at Oakhampton, the residence of her sister, and undertook the instruction of her two nieces. Her aim in teaching them was to fit them for eternity, but she did not fail to throw herself into their amusements and recreations, which she took up with her accustomed earnestness.

In the winter of 1865-66 F.R. Havergal visited her friends in Germany, and spent some time with her parents at Bonn. In 1806 her nieces went to school, and Frances left Oakhampton to reside at home.

Once again she confesses the presence of clouds on the horizon of her faith. "In reading, when one's heart leaps at some precious promise made to the children of God, a cold check comes, 'Am I one of them? what is my title?' Answer: 'Ye are all the children of God by faith in Jesus Christ.' Have I faith? Once introduce that I, and you get bewildered between faith and feeling. When I go on and grapple with the difficulty, it comes to this. As far as I know, I have come to Jesus, not once but many times. I have knelt and literally prostrated myself before Him, and told Him all, I have no other hope but what His written word says He did and said, that I know it is true, that the salvation it tells of is just what I want, and all I want, and that my heart goes out to it, and that I do accept it; that I do not fully grasp it, but I cling to it; that I want to be His only and entirely, now and for ever."