Part 6

What was said of Henri Perreyve is eminently true of Elmslie: he was gifted for friendship and for persuasion. During the last years of his life, the period when I knew him intimately, he came to what has been called the grand moral climacteric, and all his nobler qualities were manifest in their full strength. There was about him the indefinable charm of atmosphere, at once stimulating, elevating and composing. He had an inexplicable personal attraction that drew to it whatever loving-kindness there might be in the surroundings, as certain crystals absorb moisture from the air they breathe. In his company speech became of a sweeter and purer flavour. There was no austerity, no Pharisaism about him; he delighted in fun and gave himself a large liberty; but nothing he said or welcomed marred the moral beauty which he had reached through long self-discipline.

No one could know him long without perceiving that he was full of generous ardour for pure aims. His was not the coarse ambition for the glittering prizes of life, nor was his enthusiasm such as would have cooled with time. In that delicate and watchful consideration for others, which has been called the most endearing of human characteristics, he could hardly be surpassed. He concerned himself with the whole life of his friends, and especially with their trials and perplexities. Dr. Elmslie was, indeed, one of the very few men to whom one might go in an emergency, sure of a welcome more kindly if possible than would have been accorded in a time of prosperity. His whole energies were solicitously given to the task of comforting. If things could be set right he delighted in applying his singular nimbleness of mind to the situation. He was adroit in action, and almost amusingly fertile in schemes and suggestions. I think it is safe to say that all his friends felt it was better worth while talking over a difficulty with him than with any one else. Even in cases of moral failure—perhaps I should say specially in those cases—he was eager to do what was possible. He had a profound and compassionate sense of the frailty of men, their sore struggles and thick temptations. Wherever he saw true repentance he would do his utmost to secure a fresh opportunity for the erring. He thought the Christian Church sadly remiss in allowing so many lives to be ruined by one great fault. Out of an income which, for a man of his talents, was not great, he gave largely, secretly, and with the most careful discrimination.

His spirit in speaking of others, whether friends or foes was always charitable. But I must guard against the danger of mistake. He did not indulge in indiscriminate laudation. His perception of character was very keen, he was not a hero-worshipper, and he had always a certain impatience of extravagant and unmeasured speech. But he had learned the secret of not expecting from people more than they have to give, and this, along with the generosity of his nature, helped him to make large allowance for what seemed unhopeful and disappointing, and made him eager to do justice and more than justice to whatever was good. On occasion however, he would with grave kindness point out the limitations of a character, and sometimes, though very rarely, he would be moved to vehemence as he spoke of modern religious Pharisaism.

In conversation he was ready alike to listen and to speak. Nothing gave him greater delight than a long and animated talk. He loved individuality in whatever sphere it was manifested, and would often relate with delight the racy remarks made to him by poor people. Of decorous commonplace he was rather impatient, and complained once that a young man of promise, with whom he had spent a day, had said nothing during the whole of it but what he ought to have said.

Dr. Elmslie had abundantly that charity which "rejoiceth not in iniquity." It gave him real pain to hear of the mistakes and misfortunes of men. Without a trace of jealousy, he delighted in any success or happiness that came to his friends. Of all virtues he most admired magnanimity, and when he was told of generous actions, his face would glow with pleasure. To the spirit of malice and revenge he was always and utterly opposed. Like other public men he was occasionally attacked; the fancied breadth of his religious views excited animosity in certain quarters and was at times the subject of anonymous letters. He would regret that his critics did not know him better, and might show pain for the moment, but it was soon past. He never in any way retaliated.

Dr. Elmslie had no dæmonic passion for literature. For books as books he had no love, and this indifference disturbed some of his associates not a little. When he had got out of a book what he could he exchanged it for another. Hence his personal library was small, consisting mostly of Oriental literature, and some favourite French and German works. But his reading was wide, and he knew the best in everything. He was master of French, German, Italian, and Dutch, and had a working knowledge of other languages. Of his preferences in literature he did not often speak; when he did he would say that to George Eliot and Goethe he owed much and very much.

No one could be his friend without perceiving that he was through and through a Christian. In his later years his doubts seemed completely conquered. You saw nothing but the strength he had gained in overcoming them. He held his faith with a certain large simplicity, but with absolute conviction. Among all his attracting qualities the chief was his great hope in God. He was indeed "very sure of God." Latterly, he could hardly listen without impatience to gloomy forecasts of the future. He believed that all was right with the world; that Christ was busy saving it, and would see of the travail of His soul. Men prone to darker thoughts loved him very much for that. No sickness, no bodily suffering, ever altered this mood of trust and hope.

His dogmatic position is not easy to define. Although liberal in his views he disliked rashness; and avoided giving offence so far as he could. My impression is, that he held an attitude of suspense towards many debated questions. He did not feel the need of making up his mind. The truths of which he was sure gave him all the message he needed, and these were independent of the controversies of the hour. But he kept an open mind, and was ever ready to add to his working creed. He could not preach what did not thoroughly possess his own soul, but never dreamt that he had reached finality, and I think was increasingly disposed to respect the doctrines, which, as history proves, have stirred and commanded men. A thorough Liberal and Nonconformist, he knew comparatively little of the Church of England, and was repelled by its exclusive spirit, but when told of the great qualities of the younger High Church leaders, he listened with interest and pleasure. He was happy in being able to think more kindly and hopefully of men from whom he was divided in principle. As has been already said, he considered the spiritual life of Congregationalists very deep and true; he loved the warm old-fashioned piety he found among them, and heartily believed in their future. Of the differences among Nonconformists he made nothing, was a vehement advocate of union, and strongly opposed to whatever interrupted cordial relations between Churches.

Though never chary in speaking of his religious experiences he did not obtrude them. A real belief in immortality he thought could hardly exist without other faiths being right. Such a belief would give life its true shape and colour. He was very patient of honest doubts, but had to make himself sure that they were honest, not the cloak of moral laxness. What he loved best to speak of was the magnificence of Divine grace—the love of God commended in Christ's death.

* * * * *

But it is time to lay down the pen. We may apply to Dr. Elmslie words, used, I think, about an American writer: his charm was of the kind that we fail to reduce to its grounds. It was like that of the sweetness of a piece of music, or the softness of fine September weather. In a certain way it was vague, indefinable, inappreciable; but it is what we must point to, for nothing he has left behind gives any adequate idea of his powers. Friendship occupied an immense space in his life, and all who knew him are conscious that,

Now the candid face is hid, The frank, sweet tongue has ceased to move,

something has gone from them never to be replaced till that daybreak which shall unite all who belong to one another. But over the sense of their own loss there rises and remains the feeling how much God indicates in this life of which only some small portion is fulfilled. The world of expectation and love thus suddenly closed for earth must be open somewhere. There must be ministries in other spheres for which he was prepared and summoned. His life must—we know not how—be complete in Him, Who alone of all who lived fully achieved His life's programme, Who came down from Heaven to do His Father's business, and having done it died.

I.

FROM THE REV. PROFESSOR MARCUS DODS, D.D.

"From my first acquaintance with the late Professor Elmslie, I availed myself of every opportunity of seeing him, for intercourse with him never failed to be inspiring. Our acquaintance may be said to have culminated in a five weeks' tramp through the Black Forest and the Tyrol, in company with Professor Drummond—to myself a never-to-be-forgotten holiday. Often compelled to sleep in one room, and always thrown upon one another from sunrise to sundown, we came to have a tolerably complete insight into one another's character. And for my own part, I never ceased to marvel at the unfailing good humour and gaiety with which Elmslie put up with the little inconveniences incident to such travel, at the brightness he diffused in four languages, at the sparkling wit with which he seasoned the most commonplace talk, and at the ease and felicity with which he turned his mind to the gravest problems of life and of theology, and penetrated to the very heart of them. His cleverness, his smartness of repartee, his nimbleness of mind, his universal sympathy and complete intelligence were each hour a fresh surprise, and were as exhilarating as the mountain air and the new scenes through which we were passing. I have often reproached myself with not treasuring the fine sayings with which he lifted us into a region in which former difficulties were scarcely discernible and not at all disturbing. But, indeed, one might as well have tried to bottle the atmosphere for home consumption, for into everything he said and did he carried a buoyancy and a light all his own.

"As a preacher Professor Elmslie was, in many of the highest qualities of a preacher, without a peer. No one, I think, appreciated more highly than he the opportunity the preacher of Christ has to apply balm to all the wounds of humanity, and no one exercised this function with a more intelligent or tender sympathy or with happier results. No human condition, physical, mental, or spiritual, seemed beyond his ken, and none but found in him the suitable treatment. His wealth of knowledge, his unerring spiritual insight, and his rare felicity of language gave him the ear of cultured and uncultured, of the believer and the sceptic alike. It has always seemed doubtful to some of his friends whether such exceptional aptitude for preaching should have been, even in any degree, sacrificed to professorial work. Yet he himself delighted in that work, and the very last time I saw him he was full of enthusiasm for Old Testament studies, and hopeful of what might be done by himself and his fellow-labourers in this field.

"When so energetic an individuality is withdrawn the world suffers an appreciable loss; and one cannot yet think of the place he filled, or of the place we all hoped he would yet fill, without a keen shoot of pain."

II.

FROM PROFESSOR HENRY DRUMMOND.

"DEAR MR. NICOLL,—It is futile to plead want of recollection as an excuse for what must be a too brief contribution to your little portrait, for no one who ever knew Elmslie could ever forget him. But the truth is, I never knew him well. At college he was too much my senior for me to have presumed to know him, and in after years we scarcely ever met, except on one occasion, for more than a passing moment.

"I never heard Elmslie preach, or lecture, or do anything public. I knew him chiefly as a human being. Elmslie off the chair was one of the most attractive spirits who ever graced this planet. It was not so much his simple character, or the bubbling and irresistible _bonhommie_, or even the amazing versatility of his gifts, but a certain radiance that he carried with him, a certain something that made you sun yourself in his presence, and open the pores of your soul, and be happy. I think I can recall no word that he ever spoke, or even any idea that he ever forged, but the _man_ made an impression on you indelibly delightful and joyous.

"My first distinct impression of him was crossing the College quadrangle with 'Romola' under his arm. He was kind enough to stop and introduce me to the authoress, whom I forthwith proceeded to cultivate assiduously. Shortly after this Elmslie gave a supper-party, a function much too rare among Scotch students. I had the honour to be invited to represent the juniors—an act of pure mercy, for I then neither knew Elmslie nor his set. If I were now asked by a senior man at college how he could best influence his less-advanced colleagues, I should answer, 'Make him your debtor for life by asking him up to your rooms.' Of the entertainment itself—the literary entertainment, I mean—I remember little; it was the being there that helped me. And what I do remember I do not know that I ought to divulge, for the _pièce de resistance_ was the Hans Breitman Ballads, which Elmslie carved and served himself, with extraordinary relish, throughout most of the evening.

"It was this same man, unchanged by the weight of years and work, whom I met several years after in the Black Forest, and accompanied for some weeks in a walking tour. The third member of the party was Dr. Marcus Dods, and we tramped with our knapsacks through the Tyrol, the dolomite country, and the Saltzkammergut. Elmslie at first was full of the Strasburg professors under whom he had been studying, but after a few days I saw no more of his wisdom, for he gave himself up like a schoolboy to the toys of St. Ulrich and the Glockner glaciers. But of this most perfect of all vacations nothing now remains with me but an impression of health, sunshine, and gentle friendship.

"Elmslie's graver side I can only dimly realise from the appearances he used to make in the Theological Society of the New College, Edinburgh. I do not remember even the theme of any debate in which he ever took part, but the figure and voice, and especially the look of the student as he stood up there amidst the almost awe-stricken hush of his classmates, lives most vividly in my mind. When Elmslie spoke every one felt that he at least had something to give, some message of his own. He never seemed to be merely saying things, _i.e._ 'making a speech,' but to be thinking aloud, and that with an intensity and originality most inspiring and impressive. His voice and tone had that conviction in them which was as impossible to define as to resist. I could with difficulty imagine any one moving the previous question after Elmslie. Another peculiarity, which added greatly to his power, was that he thought with his whole face. In fact, in listening to him one did not so much hear a man speaking as see a man thinking. His eyes on these occasions would become very large and full of light, not of fire or heat, but of a calm luminosity, expressive of a mingled glow of reason, conscience, and emotion.

"One of the last things I read of Elmslie saying was that what people needed most was _comfort_. Probably he never knew how much his mission, personally, was to give it. I presume he often preached it, but I think he must always have _been_ it. For all who knew him will testify that to be in his presence was to leave care, and live where skies were blue.

"Yours very sincerely, "HENRY DRUMMOND. "BRINDISI, _March 17th, 1890_."

III.

FROM THE REV. JOHN SMITH, M.A.

"BROUGHTON PLACE UNITED PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, EDINBURGH.

"It is very difficult, in a few sentences, to convey to another the impression which gradually grows up from frequent contact with a nature so sympathetic, clear-sighted, active, and many-sided in its activities as that of a fellow-student and friend like Elmslie. Acquaintance with him was mainly confined to two widely sundered periods, both of them anterior to the last, crowded, brilliant years.

"It was during the session of 1866-67, at King's College, Aberdeen, that I first met him. As every one who knew the Aberdeen of that time is aware, the third year was to most students peculiarly severe. Bain—a consummate teacher—made distinction in his class appear the blue ribbon of the college course, for which the best men earnestly contended. Fuller was merciless in his demands upon his senior mathematical class, who found, as the months went on, that it was less and less possible to keep him in sight. And with 'Davy' Thomson there was no trifling,—fear of his sarcasm greatly helping our thirst for natural philosophy. As the session advanced the chariots of most of us drave heavily. Elmslie, however, who studied everything, seemed to do his work with a masterful ease which impressed us all. He came up smiling to an examination as if it were a thing of nought. Study could not blanch the fresh bloom on his cheek, or damp the lively play of spirit which characterized him then as much as in after years. I have just been looking at his portrait in our class group, and at his clear bold signature in the lithographed autographs which accompanied it. To a singular extent his personal character was formed, and his peculiar excellencies were developed, at that early date. He was, when little more than a boy, a man whose words clung to you, whose ways lingered in your memory. Even then, too, he had something of that sweet hopeful Christian spirit which was to make his preaching so helpful. One student, whose opportunities had been few, whose struggle had been painful in the extreme, used to speak to me with enthusiasm of Elmslie's kindly notice and assistance. While other natures were but emerging from chaos, barely conscious to themselves, giving but the faintest indication to others what they were to be, he whose course was to be so soon run, was already girt up and disciplined for life's way.

"After our college course was completed, I did not meet him till 1878, when already he had been for some time minister in Willesden. On more than one occasion, I stayed with him for a day or two, and saw with my own eyes how full and many-sided a life he was living then, even before fame came. He was carrying on his studies, advising publishers with regard to learned and bulky MSS., superintending a railway mission, maintaining in briskest activity the work of his congregation, and in these and many other channels winning 'golden opinions from all sorts of people.' Especially did I admire his faculty of adapting himself to English ways of thinking and feeling. And amid this abounding life, and with the promise of all that came after bright before him, he was so unaffected and ingenuous and humble, never shrinking from his future, yet not feverishly anticipating it, that it was impossible not to love him. Here, too, he showed his skill in discovering elements of strength in men whom others would dismiss as incompetent. I remember a missionary who succeeded to the astonishment of everybody, and I verily believe of himself, under his kindly and stimulating superintendence. It is one of the pleasant memories of my life that I carried the motion in Synod which made it possible for him to be elected as permanent Professor. I remember how the Willesden flock were between smiles and tears all that day, and how when the second vote was carried which severed the tie between their minister and them, they did not know whether to be grieved or glad, so strong was their love, so eager was their desire for his advancement. No one could hear him speak that night and doubt his future. All that the great world has since seen in him, we knew to be there, and more, which would have been revealed had not death so soon sealed his lips.

"Of the later years, others will speak. Out of these earlier memories I have woven—all unskilfully I fear, yet with sincere affection—this modest wreath for his tomb."

IV.

FROM THE REV. JAMES STALKER, D.D.

"6 CLAIRMONT GARDENS, GLASGOW, "_March 24th, 1890_.

"DEAR MR. NICOLL,—What a bright time it is to look back to! There is nothing else in life afterwards quite equal to it. Never again can one mingle day by day with so many picked men; never is thought so free; never are there such discoveries and surprises. Those years in the New College have in the retrospect almost a dazzling brightness, and Elmslie contributed more, perhaps, than any one else to make them what they were.

"I just missed being by his side all the four years, for we entered together; but after a week or so I left to go abroad with the Barbours, to whom I was tutor. I have no recollection of him that session, for I had not gone in for the bursary examination, where any one competing with him was pretty certain to be made aware of Elmslie to his cost. Next session, when I returned, I was of course separated from him by a year, which makes a great difference in college life. But for three sessions we must have met nearly every day, and I was thrown into the closest contact with him in the committees and societies where students of the different years come together.

"The Theological Society was at that time the centre of the life of the College. Under Robertson Smith, Lindsay and Black, whose last year was Elmslie's first, it had entered on a career of the most brilliant activity, in which, I suppose, it has never faltered since. We used to say, in our exaggerative way, that we got more good from it than from all the classes put together. And indeed it would be difficult to over-estimate the gain to be obtained from debates for which the leading men prepared carefully, being stimulated by audiences of fifty or a hundred to do their very utmost. Questions of Biblical Criticism were at that time the staple of the most important discussions; and then were fought out in secret the very battles which are now about to be fought out in the Church under the eyes of the world, with very much the same division of parties and amid the play of the same passions.