Section II Elizabeth, Duchess of Gordon
“The Church of Christ has often been indebted to ladies in high station whose hearts the Lord touched, who devoted themselves with singular ardour to the extension of His kingdom; using the graciousness of their rank and breeding to strengthen His ministers, and win favour for His holy cause; and who in so doing had a peculiar heavy cross of self-denial and reproach to bear. Had we lived in days when the gracious dead were canonized, and supposed to be helpful in heaven as they had been on earth, we should doubtless have had a Scottish Saint Elizabeth, in the last Duchess of Gordon.”
Andrew Crichton.
RELIGION IN HIGH LIFE.
Christians have generally sprung from humble life. We love to see piety anywhere; but the histories of those who have come from the ranks always lay deepest hold of the Christian mind. When the poor woman in the almshouse takes her bread and her water, and blesses God for both; when the homeless wanderer, who has not where to lay her head, lifts her eye and says, “My Father will provide,” it is like the glow-worm in the dark, leaving a spark the more conspicuous because of the blackness around it. The evangelization of the poor is a sure sign of Christ’s gospel. But let us rejoice, that though it hath been hitherto, we are afraid, incontestably the rule, that not many of the wise, mighty, and noble have been called, yet there have been many splendid exceptions. There have always been some Christians of noble birth and rank and wealth. Not only is the gospel translatable into every tongue, and suitable to all the varying phases of human intellect; but it can descend to the lowliest cottages, and rise to the most gorgeous palaces and gild their very pinnacles with celestial light. Philosophy has wept at the recital of the story of the Cross; wealth has offered its houses for the Saviour who had for His home the cold mountain wet with the evening dew; science has cast her brightest crowns at the bleeding feet of Emmanuel; and art has entreated the rejected Redeemer to call her most fashionable temples His own. We could produce a long catalogue of illustrious names to prove that religion can command the homage of genius, taste, and rank. The religion of Jesus is not the monopoly of the poor; it is designed for those who are surrounded with objects which flatter their vanity, which minister to their pride, and which throw them into the circle of alluring and tempting pleasures. It places all on the same level in regard to salvation. There is no royal road to heaven. All are saved in the same way. In our own times there are not wanting some who have laid rank and wealth on the altar of God.
BIOGRAPHY.
Elizabeth Brodie, was born in London, on the 20th of June, 1794. There had been Brodies of Brodie for many generations. The most noted of her ancestors was her grandfather Alexander, commonly called Lord Brodie, who lived in the days of the Covenant, and was one of the judges of the Court of Session. Her father was Alexander Brodie; who having acquired a large fortune in India, returned home, purchased the estates of Arnhall and the Burn, in Kincardineshire, and became member of parliament for Elgin. Her grandmother was Lady Betty Wemyss, one of the Sutherland family; and her mother was Miss Elizabeth Wemyss, of Wemyss Castle, a grand-daughter of the Earl of Wemyss. Her progenitors were not only illustrious, but virtuous. Grace is not of blood, but of God; yet in the heritage which the righteous leave to their children, a moral resemblance may often be traced even through intervening generations.
The first six years of her life were spent at Leslie House, in Fifeshire, and were rendered memorable by the death of her mother. In what she called “her mother’s box,” were found reminiscences of that parent and of her own infant days. She stayed for some time with her maiden aunts at Elgin, which she always regarded with affection as the home of her early years. At the age of eight she was sent to a boarding-school in London. Here she had, with immense difficulty, to unlearn her native Scotch, and acquire a command of English words and English pronunciation. Her education was thorough in all the ordinary branches, and she was imbued with a taste for intellectual and scientific pursuits. Before seventeen, Miss Brodie came out into society at the Fife Hunt, in Cupar, with her cousin, the beautiful Miss Wemyss, afterwards Countess of Rosslyn.
In the reign of the first Charles, Lord Lewis Gordon, afterwards Marquis of Huntly, rushed over the possessions of the gentle Lord Brodie, burnt his mansion and laid waste his lands. But in the times of the third George, another Marquis of Huntly came to Brodie on a different errand. The Rev. A. Moody Stuart pleasantly says, “Unlike his wayward ancestor, he ran no warlike raid through the plains of Moray, and brought back no forceful prey to adorn his castle at Huntly. But the gallant soldier made a better conquest. In the ever strange circling of events he sought and won the hand of the young and beautiful Elizabeth Brodie, and conducted his bride with festive rejoicings to his home in Strathbogie. There she shone a far nobler treasure than the spoil of her father’s house; for in due time she was called to inherit the untold riches of that Father’s grace, and so to shed a brighter lustre on the coronet of Gordon than it had ever worn before, illuminating it with a heavenly radiance ere it was buried in her tomb.” At the age of nineteen, the Marquis of Huntly was Miss Brodie’s accepted suitor, and on the 11th of December, 1813, they were married at Bath. Her husband, as colonel of the 92nd, or Gordon Highlanders, had seen hard service, and could show his wounds. They had one great trial in common to bear: their childless wedlock sealed the fate of the house of Gordon. After their marriage they went abroad. On the 16th of June, 1815, they drew near Brussels, ignorant of what was happening in the immediate neighbourhood. The Duchess of Richmond had given her famous ball, and now all was confusion and dismay. Troubled minds were set at rest by the British squares at Waterloo.
The Marchioness of Huntly spent the first few years of her married life, in much the same way as ladies of her rank generally do. She drank freely of the pleasures of the world, and God was not in all her thoughts. In the autumn of 1815, she returned to Scotland, and Lord Huntly determined to give her a festive reception on her coming home to Strathbogie; and because the winter was not suitable, he deferred it till her birthday in June. The place of meeting was the castle park; the people danced on the greensward, and Lady Huntly distributed small silver coins to the children with that large-hearted love for the young so remarkable in her after career. She took still greater pleasure in a festive tour which followed a few years after. On this occasion the spirit of the old highland clanship was revived; fiery crosses blazed from hill to hill; and Lady Huntly passed in true Celtic style over the Gordon estates, receiving the homage of her vassals. In 1819, Lord Huntly resolved to give a highland welcome worthy of his rank, to Prince Leopold, at the beautiful lodge of Kinrara. With the ardent loyalty of the highlands, the clansmen held themselves ready to honour their own chief and to welcome his royal guest. With his highland bonnet, and kilted in the dark tartan of his clan, Huntly invited the prince to ascend the hill of Tor Alvie, which commanded a fine view of the lofty mountains, and the noble Spey. There they found the marchioness and her party waiting to receive them. But the tartaned highlanders were nowhere to be seen. Their chieftain stood with eagle plume:—
“But they with mantles folded round
Were crouched to rest upon the ground,
Scarce to be known by curious eye
From the deep heather where they lie;
So well was matched the tartan screen
With heath-bell dark, and brackens green.
The mountaineer then whistled shrill,
And he was answered from the hill;
Instant through copse and heath arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows.
And every tuft of broom gave life
To plaided warrior armed for strife;
Watching their leader’s beck and will,
All silent there they stood, and still.
Short space he stood, then raised his hand
To his brave clansmen’s eager band;
Then Shout of Welcome, shrill and wide,
Shook the steep mountain’s steady side.
Thrice it arose, and brake and fell
Three times gave back the martial yell.”
“Ah,” exclaimed the Prince, surprised and delighted, “we’ve got Roderick Dhu here!”
In the summer of 1827, the old Duke died, and the Marquis and Marchioness of Huntly became the Duke and Duchess of Gordon. The hereditary influence of the Gordon family in other days was scarcely less than regal in the north of Scotland; and even at the time to which we refer, retained a strong element of clanship added to that of wealth and rank. Amidst the enthusiastic rejoicings of the numerous tenantry, the Duke and Duchess took possession of the noble castle. It had been called a “castle of felicity,” and nothing was wanting to make it so, if the good things of this life could satisfy the soul. The Duchess had learned how poor earth’s highest joys are in themselves. She therefore identified herself more with the people and cause of Christ. No balls were given at Gordon Castle during the nine years she was its mistress. In May, 1830, William IV. came to the throne, and his queen, the sainted Adelaide, selected the Duchess of Gordon as Mistress of the Robes at the coronation, and honoured her ever afterwards with her special friendship. This was a strong temptation to return to the world, and become a leader of fashion; but into the court, as into the ducal palace, she carried a simple, fervent exhibition of Christian principle. Most of her time, however, was spent at Gordon Castle, where she presided with queenly grace over the numerous and noble company always sure to be there. All things were ordered according to her own high spiritual ideal.
In May, 1836, George, last Duke of Gordon, was suddenly taken from her side in London. The blow was heavy, but her sorrow was assuaged by the assurance that he slept in Jesus. So little was his death expected, that the Duchess had turned an ugly quarry into a beautiful garden, and was looking forward to the pleasure of driving her invalid husband thither, and winning a smile from his sick and weary face. But alas! he was carried past her blooming paradise in his coffin.
The first year of the Duchess’ widowhood was spent on the Continent; after which she returned to Huntly Lodge, where she had spent her married youth. It now became a serious question how far she should continue to maintain the style and living of a Duchess. To have lived on a thousand a year instead of ten thousand would have saved her from many temptations, and spared her much money for the Church’s treasury. But having been numbered by the Lord in the rank of the “not many noble” that are called, she decided to abide therein with God. We think she was right. The light that shines through the cottage window will cheer and guide the lonely wanderer who happens to come within its narrow range; but the lamp on the lighthouse is seen far and wide, and directs thousands to the sheltering harbour.
The Scotch are a devout and fervent people. But in some localities the inhabitants were religious only in name. Strathbogie was chequered by bright lights and dark shadows—the latter, alas! by far the more numerous. The ministers preached that it was good to be good, bad to be bad, and wise to eschew fanaticism; and the communicants deemed family worship an excellent thing in the stanzas of the “Cottar’s Saturday Night.” In answer to prayer, mighty apostles visited the dark land. With every movement which seemed to bring life to the spiritually dead district, the Duchess identified herself; and, therefore, although she did not till long afterwards sympathise with the position taken up by the party headed by Dr. Chalmers, she opened her house to him and the other eminent men who came to preach the gospel in Strathbogie.
In 1847, after a severe struggle, she became a member of the Free Church of Scotland; and in August partook of the Lord’s supper for the first time along with the people at Huntly, as a member of their own communion. Chiefly through her instrumentality the popular mind suddenly awoke to the importance of religion; clergymen became deeply fervent, and the morals of a large portion of the people rose at once to the high Christian level. In 1859, a young man who had been long halting between two opinions, was overheard disputing in a byre with an old self-righteous man, and saying, “Na, na that’ll no do; if ye dinna get Christ first, ye can do naething.”
The end is soon told. She spent the winter of 1862-3 in London. A conference of ministers was held at Huntly Lodge on the 13th of January, 1864, and another was appointed for the 10th of February; but between those dates the unexpected summons of death arrived. She fell asleep at half-past seven on Sabbath evening, the 31st of January, in her seventieth year.
On the 9th of February her Grace was buried. The spectacle was deeply affecting as the procession passed through Huntly; and in the midst of deep silence, respect, and universal regard, the corpse was carried through Elgin to the vault of the noble Dukes of Gordon. The coffin was placed beside her husband’s, in the only remaining space for the deceased wearers of the ducal coronet and their children. Till the last trumpet shall sound, that tomb shall remain closed on the last and the best of an illustrious race.
NEW LIFE.
In 1821, the Marchioness of Huntly began to feel anxious about her soul. God can break the hardest rock with the feeblest rod, and from the mouth of a babe ordain strength. A highland servant whom the Duchess Jane had left at Kinrara, with all reverence for the chieftain’s lady, ventured to drop a quiet remark which sank into her heart and was never altogether forgotten. Lady Huntly was discovered in the act of reading the Bible by one of the leaders of aristocratic gaiety, and the incident was declared to be the best joke they had heard of for many a day. They thought, however, that a little clever quizzing would soon make her return to her old ways. But they were mistaken! They called her “Methodist,” and she said within herself, “If for so little I am called a Methodist, let me have something more worthy of the name;” and set herself to read the Bible still more earnestly. In her new course of Bible reading she came to the passage, “If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him?” The words arrested her, and from that time she began to pray for the Holy Spirit. In 1822, she accompanied Lord Huntly to Geneva, and there found an enlightened friend in Madame Vernet, whom she afterwards looked upon as her spiritual mother. From Geneva she went to Paris, and, while travelling, read Erskine’s “Internal Evidences,” which she found very profitable to her soul. In Paris she found counsel and help in the house of Lady Olivia Sparrow; and at length, during a visit at Kimbolton Castle, the residence of the Duke of Manchester, she was brought to believe savingly on the Lord Jesus Christ.
DEEPENING OF THE LORD’S WORK.
The commencement of the year 1827 forms an epoch in the spiritual history of Lady Huntly. She and her husband were on the Continent with two nieces, when one of them died suddenly at Naples. The bereavement was keenly felt, but greatly sanctified. About this time she read Leighton on Peter, to which she attributed a great deepening of the work of grace; and she afterwards wrote—“Pray keep Leighton for my sake, for I have a particular value for that copy. I truly rejoice to find that you can read Leighton with pleasure. I know by experience it is a test of the state of the mind.”
When placed in a situation which required the heart to be hot like a furnace, and the lip to be burning like a live coal, she found that grace was proportioned to duty. To the first period of her Christian life she thus refers: “In my own case, I believe that for two years I was a saved sinner, a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, and yet that during all that time I did not see the exceeding sinfulness of sin. I believed in a general way that I was a sinner who deserved the punishment of a righteous God; I believed that whosoever came to Jesus Christ should be saved; but I had no deep sense of sin,—of my sin. Since then, I believe I have passed through almost every phase of Christian experience that I have ever read or heard of; and now I have such a sense of my utter vileness and unworthiness, that I feel that the great and holy God might well set His heel on me, so to speak, and crush me into nothing.” So marked was the growth of grace at this time that she used to talk of it as a second conversion. For several years she had apprehended Christ as her title to heaven; but she now saw that He was also her meetness for heaven, and was filled with peace and joy.
At her departure from Huntly Lodge, to Gordon Castle, she received what we must call a token from God. With some other ladies, she paid a visit to the old castle at Huntly, on the banks of the Deveron, and within the fair demesne which she was to leave for a time. In an ancient hall, with carved escutcheons on its walls, they were attracted by an inscription on a scroll high above them, which neither the Duchess nor her visitors could decipher. They moved on, but she remained gazing at the carved figures. Suddenly the sun burst out from behind a cloud, and she read in the light of its rays these words:
TO. THAES. THAT. LOVE. GOD. AL. THINGIS. VIRKIS.
TO. THE. BEST.
It was as if a voice from heaven had spoken. She had gotten a motto for her future life; and ever after, Romans viii. 28, was one of the pillars that upheld the temple of God in her heart—one of the elements that leavened her spiritual life.
OPEN-AIR SERVICES.
On the Saturday before her first communion as a Presbyterian, it was evident that the church would be too small on the following Lord’s-day. The Duchess therefore immediately placed the broad green area of what had been the old castle court at the service of the congregation. A naval captain with two or three visitors set up some military tents, and the ancient fortress was turned into a temple. The soldiers’ tents, with their white canvas and scarlet mountings, had a very picturesque appearance. On the Sabbath morning a large congregation assembled under the blue vault of heaven.
“Then did we worship in that fane
By God to mankind given;
Whose lamp is the meridian sun,
And all the stars of heaven.
“Whose roof is the cerulean sky;
Whose floor the earth so fair;
Whose walls are vast immensity:
All nature worships there.”
Before the close of that service more than one was constrained to say, “God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined into our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” In 1859, she wrote in reference to evangelistic efforts: “There were eight thousand tracts given away at the feeing-market yesterday.” In the summer of 1860, many thousands assembled in the castle park, at the invitation of the Duchess, to listen to the silver trumpet of the gospel sounding the year of jubilee. Similar gatherings were held during the three following years. On some of these occasions it was computed that seven thousand persons were present; on others, ten thousand. The Lord’s people were refreshed, and many careless ones were awakened. In 1863, the Duchess writes: “I cannot but wonder to see the meetings increasing in numbers and interest every year; not as a rendezvous for a pleasant day in the country, but really very solemn meetings, where the presence of the Lord is felt and the power of His Spirit manifested.” Clergymen of a certain school may sneer at lay evangelists; she could not join them in their sneers. It may be that these men are not always prudent—that their zeal sometimes outruns their discretion. Well, what then? Would we have the sentinel to walk with measured military step, who is on his way to trample out the lighted match which has been set to a train of gunpowder? If not human lives, are human souls to be sacrificed to the martinetism of the excessively prudent? If we are to contend against a thing merely because of its abuse, then all preaching must come to an end, clerical as well as lay.
GOOD WORKS.
A firm believer in the doctrine of a free salvation through the mercy of God and the merits of Christ the Duchess of Gordon ever echoed the exhortation of the apostle, “Be careful to maintain good works.” So far from holding good works cheap, she believed that by them God was glorified, and by them on the great day she would be judged. “The tree is known by its fruit.” “Every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire.” At Gordon Castle a room was fitted up as a little chapel for morning and family prayers, and where, aided by the tones of an organ, the Sabbath evenings might be rendered profitable to the visitors. She had always some benevolent scheme on hand, but was frequently hampered as to the means. When anxious to build a chapel and infant school, she took a gold vase worth £1200 to London in the hope of getting it sold. But as she had difficulty in finding a purchaser, she writes, “The Duchess of Beaufort, hearing of my vase, thought of her diamond ear-rings, which she got me to dispose of for a chapel in Wales, and her diamonds made me think of my jewels; and as the Duke has always been most anxious for the chapel, he agreed with me that stones were much prettier in a chapel wall than round one’s neck; and so he allowed me to sell £600 worth, or rather, what brought that, for they cost more than double.” The Sabbath was pre-eminently honoured. No departures or arrivals took place on that day. To those who think that the gratuitous and instant forgiveness of the gospel must be fatal to future obedience, it might be sufficient to remark, that the noblest patterns of piety, and the most finished specimens of personal worth, are those who counted their own excellence the merest dross, and yet felt assured that for another’s sake they were precious in God’s sight. But the gospel itself assures us that the faith which receives the Saviour is the first step of new obedience—that it is only when God’s righteousness is accepted, that morality begins.
CHARACTER OF THE DUCHESS OF GORDON.
From the pages of her accomplished biographer, we learn that in her youth she had a robust physical frame; and H. P. Willis, Esq., the American traveller, tells us, that she was a tall and very handsome woman, with a smile of the most winning sweetness. Peculiarly attractive in her manner, her expression, which in old age was quite heavenly, so lighted up all her features as to convey the impression that she must have been very beautiful when young. But it was not her handsome features which called forth admiration so much, as her tall and graceful form, added to which was a countenance beautified by intelligence and life and winning gentleness.
Her intellect was as vigorous as her body was robust. She availed herself of the power of invigorating her mental faculties, of acquiring knowledge from experience, of pursuing knowledge for its own sake, of deriving knowledge from the past, and of rendering the possession of knowledge an enjoyment. Thus she wanted less than most girls a mother’s arm to lean upon; and needed less than most wives a husband’s intellect to guide. She seems to have arrived at her conclusions slowly; but having arrived at them, she held them firmly.
Kind words and good deeds will be legible, when sculptured inscriptions are illegible. These speak when the granite and the marble are silent. The benevolence of the Duchess was world-wide. Perhaps her lavish hospitality was sometimes taken advantage of; but the keenest cavillers must admit that her own eye and heart were single. Her aim seemed to be to convince her guests that the house and all that was in it was their own. The day after the funeral, an aged man, with moistened eyes made these remarks. “This is the greatest calamity that ever befel this district; of a’ the Dukes that ever reigned here, there was never one like her; there’s nane in this neighbourhood, high or low, but was under some obligation to her; for she made it her study to benefit her fellow-men; and what crowds o’ puir craturs she helped every day!” A soldier who had been in the Crimea, said: “You know that I have seen much to render my heart callous, but I never was unmanned till now; I never knew before how tenderly I loved that honoured lady.” She had a strong feeling of nationality, and a great love for everything Scotch, such as the Jacobite songs. But when she received new life, these were exchanged for the songs of Zion. Her spirit was most catholic, and she longed to see conflicting sentiments blended into brotherhood, and to hear the grand text repeated throughout all lands: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.”