The Poplar Leaves.The poplar leaves are whispering lowIn the setting summer beams;As they catch the lovely farewell glowThat lights the hills and streams.What tell they in those murmurs low,Under the rising moon?As they wave so gracefully to and fro,I would ask of them a boon.Have you any word for me,A word I fain would hear?'Twas dropped perchance beneath your treeToo faint for human ear.Ye whisper so very low yourselves,That as they lightly pass,Ye needs must hear e'en fairy elvesAt revels in the grass.Then tell me, tell me, if she cameBeneath the setting sun,And breathed a song, a sigh, a nameOr sweet word ever a one.Then whisper it again to me,Ye have not let it go,It thrilled the whole height of your treeThrough every leaf I trow.Yet still they whispered on and on,But never a word for me;Till, from the hill-tops, light was gone;And I left the poplar tree.Again I stood beneath that treeWhen the fields were full of sheaves;But now it mattered not to meWhat said the poplar leaves;For one stood with me 'neath the moon,As they dropped their whispers low,From whom I gained that precious boon,The word I longed to know.
The Poplar Leaves.
The Poplar Leaves.
The poplar leaves are whispering lowIn the setting summer beams;As they catch the lovely farewell glowThat lights the hills and streams.
The poplar leaves are whispering low
In the setting summer beams;
As they catch the lovely farewell glow
That lights the hills and streams.
What tell they in those murmurs low,Under the rising moon?As they wave so gracefully to and fro,I would ask of them a boon.
What tell they in those murmurs low,
Under the rising moon?
As they wave so gracefully to and fro,
I would ask of them a boon.
Have you any word for me,A word I fain would hear?'Twas dropped perchance beneath your treeToo faint for human ear.
Have you any word for me,
A word I fain would hear?
'Twas dropped perchance beneath your tree
Too faint for human ear.
Ye whisper so very low yourselves,That as they lightly pass,Ye needs must hear e'en fairy elvesAt revels in the grass.
Ye whisper so very low yourselves,
That as they lightly pass,
Ye needs must hear e'en fairy elves
At revels in the grass.
Then tell me, tell me, if she cameBeneath the setting sun,And breathed a song, a sigh, a nameOr sweet word ever a one.
Then tell me, tell me, if she came
Beneath the setting sun,
And breathed a song, a sigh, a name
Or sweet word ever a one.
Then whisper it again to me,Ye have not let it go,It thrilled the whole height of your treeThrough every leaf I trow.
Then whisper it again to me,
Ye have not let it go,
It thrilled the whole height of your tree
Through every leaf I trow.
Yet still they whispered on and on,But never a word for me;Till, from the hill-tops, light was gone;And I left the poplar tree.
Yet still they whispered on and on,
But never a word for me;
Till, from the hill-tops, light was gone;
And I left the poplar tree.
Again I stood beneath that treeWhen the fields were full of sheaves;But now it mattered not to meWhat said the poplar leaves;
Again I stood beneath that tree
When the fields were full of sheaves;
But now it mattered not to me
What said the poplar leaves;
For one stood with me 'neath the moon,As they dropped their whispers low,From whom I gained that precious boon,The word I longed to know.
For one stood with me 'neath the moon,
As they dropped their whispers low,
From whom I gained that precious boon,
The word I longed to know.
Lines suggested by a Wakeful Night.Oh sleep, where art thou? I could chide thee nowThat truant-like thou'rt absent from thy place;Or e'en could call thee by a harsher name,Deserter; yet I will not brand thee thus.Oh! wherefore dost thou leave me? Haste and come,That in thy presence I forget all else.Except thou grant me from thy precious storeSome lovely dream of joy; that, like a child,Lies folded to thy breast, but which thou canstAt will send forth to wander here or there,Bearing some wondrous message on its way.Are such dreams thine? scarce know I whence they are,Yet sleep in sober earnest, I believeThey are not truly thine, but dwell aboveIn worlds of light where thou art all unknown.Yet hold they here strange intercourse with thee,So that thy soft'ning veil is o'er them thrown,And a mist in part doth dim their brightness,And dull the melody of their sweet voice.While, in the language of their home, they tellOf its joy and beauty, bidding our souls,As treasures, keep the whispers which they bring.For though their sweet voice muffled be and low,And though thy dewy mist enfold them,Yet speak they truly with such heavenly power,That in the joy and light of such a presenceDoth the spirit see this world, and heavenTo be more near than ofttimes we can tellIn the movements of our life; when the linksUniting both, by us are left untraced;While sad and weary we do often mournTheir dreary distance, since our faithless heartsWill sunder them so far, then cannot restIn the sever'd world they make unto themselves,Since that they are inheritors of both.And He who dwelt on earth, to prove with powerThat both these worlds were one, meeting in Him,Since by His mighty will of love He cameTo link again upon the Cross the chainWhich should so closely evermore have bound them,Which, save for Him, had utterly been sever'd,He hath said, for every age to hear,Within is the Kingdom of God; blest truth,Within; and yet we look afar and gazeAround in search of somewhat we call heaven,And oft perchance thinking 'tis found, rejoice,But soon in sadness is the quest renewed.For that we seek a kingdom of our own,No hope than this more utterly forlorn,We have no kingdom and we cannot reign,In serving only can we find our lifeAnd perfect freedom, the true life of kings.But whom to serve we may, nay needs must, choose;And if the happy choice be made, then oursIs the glorious privilege to knowThat earth and heaven (howe'er Rebellion,With his sceptre point in triumph, sayingBehold me, by earth's homage, king confessed),One kingdom are, rul'd ever by one King.Who through His love will teach this, more and moreUntil our hearts, living His life of love,Shall know and feel His presence all their heaven.
Lines suggested by a Wakeful Night.
Lines suggested by a Wakeful Night.
Oh sleep, where art thou? I could chide thee nowThat truant-like thou'rt absent from thy place;Or e'en could call thee by a harsher name,Deserter; yet I will not brand thee thus.Oh! wherefore dost thou leave me? Haste and come,That in thy presence I forget all else.Except thou grant me from thy precious storeSome lovely dream of joy; that, like a child,Lies folded to thy breast, but which thou canstAt will send forth to wander here or there,Bearing some wondrous message on its way.Are such dreams thine? scarce know I whence they are,Yet sleep in sober earnest, I believeThey are not truly thine, but dwell aboveIn worlds of light where thou art all unknown.Yet hold they here strange intercourse with thee,So that thy soft'ning veil is o'er them thrown,And a mist in part doth dim their brightness,And dull the melody of their sweet voice.While, in the language of their home, they tellOf its joy and beauty, bidding our souls,As treasures, keep the whispers which they bring.For though their sweet voice muffled be and low,And though thy dewy mist enfold them,Yet speak they truly with such heavenly power,That in the joy and light of such a presenceDoth the spirit see this world, and heavenTo be more near than ofttimes we can tellIn the movements of our life; when the linksUniting both, by us are left untraced;While sad and weary we do often mournTheir dreary distance, since our faithless heartsWill sunder them so far, then cannot restIn the sever'd world they make unto themselves,Since that they are inheritors of both.And He who dwelt on earth, to prove with powerThat both these worlds were one, meeting in Him,Since by His mighty will of love He cameTo link again upon the Cross the chainWhich should so closely evermore have bound them,Which, save for Him, had utterly been sever'd,He hath said, for every age to hear,Within is the Kingdom of God; blest truth,Within; and yet we look afar and gazeAround in search of somewhat we call heaven,And oft perchance thinking 'tis found, rejoice,But soon in sadness is the quest renewed.For that we seek a kingdom of our own,No hope than this more utterly forlorn,We have no kingdom and we cannot reign,In serving only can we find our lifeAnd perfect freedom, the true life of kings.But whom to serve we may, nay needs must, choose;And if the happy choice be made, then oursIs the glorious privilege to knowThat earth and heaven (howe'er Rebellion,With his sceptre point in triumph, sayingBehold me, by earth's homage, king confessed),One kingdom are, rul'd ever by one King.Who through His love will teach this, more and moreUntil our hearts, living His life of love,Shall know and feel His presence all their heaven.
Oh sleep, where art thou? I could chide thee now
That truant-like thou'rt absent from thy place;
Or e'en could call thee by a harsher name,
Deserter; yet I will not brand thee thus.
Oh! wherefore dost thou leave me? Haste and come,
That in thy presence I forget all else.
Except thou grant me from thy precious store
Some lovely dream of joy; that, like a child,
Lies folded to thy breast, but which thou canst
At will send forth to wander here or there,
Bearing some wondrous message on its way.
Are such dreams thine? scarce know I whence they are,
Yet sleep in sober earnest, I believe
They are not truly thine, but dwell above
In worlds of light where thou art all unknown.
Yet hold they here strange intercourse with thee,
So that thy soft'ning veil is o'er them thrown,
And a mist in part doth dim their brightness,
And dull the melody of their sweet voice.
While, in the language of their home, they tell
Of its joy and beauty, bidding our souls,
As treasures, keep the whispers which they bring.
For though their sweet voice muffled be and low,
And though thy dewy mist enfold them,
Yet speak they truly with such heavenly power,
That in the joy and light of such a presence
Doth the spirit see this world, and heaven
To be more near than ofttimes we can tell
In the movements of our life; when the links
Uniting both, by us are left untraced;
While sad and weary we do often mourn
Their dreary distance, since our faithless hearts
Will sunder them so far, then cannot rest
In the sever'd world they make unto themselves,
Since that they are inheritors of both.
And He who dwelt on earth, to prove with power
That both these worlds were one, meeting in Him,
Since by His mighty will of love He came
To link again upon the Cross the chain
Which should so closely evermore have bound them,
Which, save for Him, had utterly been sever'd,
He hath said, for every age to hear,
Within is the Kingdom of God; blest truth,
Within; and yet we look afar and gaze
Around in search of somewhat we call heaven,
And oft perchance thinking 'tis found, rejoice,
But soon in sadness is the quest renewed.
For that we seek a kingdom of our own,
No hope than this more utterly forlorn,
We have no kingdom and we cannot reign,
In serving only can we find our life
And perfect freedom, the true life of kings.
But whom to serve we may, nay needs must, choose;
And if the happy choice be made, then ours
Is the glorious privilege to know
That earth and heaven (howe'er Rebellion,
With his sceptre point in triumph, saying
Behold me, by earth's homage, king confessed),
One kingdom are, rul'd ever by one King.
Who through His love will teach this, more and more
Until our hearts, living His life of love,
Shall know and feel His presence all their heaven.
Evening.1.Ye sounds of day, why all so still,And hushed as if in sleep?Is there some power whose sovereign willBids you such silence keep?I ask'd, no voice replied, it seemedThe while as tho' all nature sweetly dreamed,But soon that spirit of the shadeThe breeze, in softest whispers, answer made.2.Hast thou seen the sun, with fainting beamsIn parting, kiss the hills and streams,Didst mark the blush of that farewell glowAnd how he linger'd loth to go?For soon to the queen of the glowing west,He knew he must yield and sink to rest.3.He had caught the sound of her step from far,Had heard her greet her own bright star,And triumphing tell how the god of dayWould yield his kingdom to her sway,And how she comes to reign alone,For he is gone, that glorious one.4.O'er sounds she holds entire sway,When she wills silence all obey,Soon as her coming draweth near,Many are hush'd, that she may hearThose only which she makes her own,Whose music breathes a lulling tone.5.The streams that flow in melody,The soothing insect-hum,The green leaves whispering softlyWhile I, on light wings come,And with low murmurs lull the groves,These all make music which she loves;All these, when the stirring day doth end,To give her sweet welcome their voices blend.6.Then ceas'd the voice, but all aroundFloated a gentle murmuring sound;While fragrant breath of greeting roseFrom flowers sinking to repose,To welcome evening's peaceful reign,The while responding to the strain,Their willing tribute of thanks and praiseMy heart and voice at once did raise:7.Oh evening, I will sing to thee,Thou silent mother of thought;My heart shall breathe the melody,With glowing rapture fraught;Yes, I will sing to thee, and tellHow I love thy solemn hour,How in thy stillness lies a spellOf soothing holy power.8.Thou comest in calm majestyTo thy bowers in the west;And weary nature blesseth thee,For she knows thou bringest rest,She waits thy coming anxiously,And all the lovely flowersDroop their leaves in thanks to thee,For life-renewing showers.9.Well may they bless thee, for I trowWhen the joyous morn doth wake,And with its beams their slumbers break,All fresh and bright their leaves shall glow;And to the deep feeling heart,That which can love thee best,How beautiful thou art!Cradle of peace and rest.10.It loves thy presence, and to theeBy chains of deepest thought is bound.Such thought as sets the spirit freeHallowing all around.11.Then wakes in man his nature high,He feels his immortality;And in the peace at evening givenBethinks him he is heir of heaven.
Evening.
Evening.
1.
1.
Ye sounds of day, why all so still,And hushed as if in sleep?Is there some power whose sovereign willBids you such silence keep?I ask'd, no voice replied, it seemedThe while as tho' all nature sweetly dreamed,But soon that spirit of the shadeThe breeze, in softest whispers, answer made.
Ye sounds of day, why all so still,
And hushed as if in sleep?
Is there some power whose sovereign will
Bids you such silence keep?
I ask'd, no voice replied, it seemed
The while as tho' all nature sweetly dreamed,
But soon that spirit of the shade
The breeze, in softest whispers, answer made.
2.
2.
Hast thou seen the sun, with fainting beamsIn parting, kiss the hills and streams,Didst mark the blush of that farewell glowAnd how he linger'd loth to go?For soon to the queen of the glowing west,He knew he must yield and sink to rest.
Hast thou seen the sun, with fainting beams
In parting, kiss the hills and streams,
Didst mark the blush of that farewell glow
And how he linger'd loth to go?
For soon to the queen of the glowing west,
He knew he must yield and sink to rest.
3.
3.
He had caught the sound of her step from far,Had heard her greet her own bright star,And triumphing tell how the god of dayWould yield his kingdom to her sway,And how she comes to reign alone,For he is gone, that glorious one.
He had caught the sound of her step from far,
Had heard her greet her own bright star,
And triumphing tell how the god of day
Would yield his kingdom to her sway,
And how she comes to reign alone,
For he is gone, that glorious one.
4.
4.
O'er sounds she holds entire sway,When she wills silence all obey,Soon as her coming draweth near,Many are hush'd, that she may hearThose only which she makes her own,Whose music breathes a lulling tone.
O'er sounds she holds entire sway,
When she wills silence all obey,
Soon as her coming draweth near,
Many are hush'd, that she may hear
Those only which she makes her own,
Whose music breathes a lulling tone.
5.
5.
The streams that flow in melody,The soothing insect-hum,The green leaves whispering softlyWhile I, on light wings come,And with low murmurs lull the groves,These all make music which she loves;All these, when the stirring day doth end,To give her sweet welcome their voices blend.
The streams that flow in melody,
The soothing insect-hum,
The green leaves whispering softly
While I, on light wings come,
And with low murmurs lull the groves,
These all make music which she loves;
All these, when the stirring day doth end,
To give her sweet welcome their voices blend.
6.
6.
Then ceas'd the voice, but all aroundFloated a gentle murmuring sound;While fragrant breath of greeting roseFrom flowers sinking to repose,To welcome evening's peaceful reign,The while responding to the strain,Their willing tribute of thanks and praiseMy heart and voice at once did raise:
Then ceas'd the voice, but all around
Floated a gentle murmuring sound;
While fragrant breath of greeting rose
From flowers sinking to repose,
To welcome evening's peaceful reign,
The while responding to the strain,
Their willing tribute of thanks and praise
My heart and voice at once did raise:
7.
7.
Oh evening, I will sing to thee,Thou silent mother of thought;My heart shall breathe the melody,With glowing rapture fraught;Yes, I will sing to thee, and tellHow I love thy solemn hour,How in thy stillness lies a spellOf soothing holy power.
Oh evening, I will sing to thee,
Thou silent mother of thought;
My heart shall breathe the melody,
With glowing rapture fraught;
Yes, I will sing to thee, and tell
How I love thy solemn hour,
How in thy stillness lies a spell
Of soothing holy power.
8.
8.
Thou comest in calm majestyTo thy bowers in the west;And weary nature blesseth thee,For she knows thou bringest rest,She waits thy coming anxiously,And all the lovely flowersDroop their leaves in thanks to thee,For life-renewing showers.
Thou comest in calm majesty
To thy bowers in the west;
And weary nature blesseth thee,
For she knows thou bringest rest,
She waits thy coming anxiously,
And all the lovely flowers
Droop their leaves in thanks to thee,
For life-renewing showers.
9.
9.
Well may they bless thee, for I trowWhen the joyous morn doth wake,And with its beams their slumbers break,All fresh and bright their leaves shall glow;And to the deep feeling heart,That which can love thee best,How beautiful thou art!Cradle of peace and rest.
Well may they bless thee, for I trow
When the joyous morn doth wake,
And with its beams their slumbers break,
All fresh and bright their leaves shall glow;
And to the deep feeling heart,
That which can love thee best,
How beautiful thou art!
Cradle of peace and rest.
10.
10.
It loves thy presence, and to theeBy chains of deepest thought is bound.Such thought as sets the spirit freeHallowing all around.
It loves thy presence, and to thee
By chains of deepest thought is bound.
Such thought as sets the spirit free
Hallowing all around.
11.
11.
Then wakes in man his nature high,He feels his immortality;And in the peace at evening givenBethinks him he is heir of heaven.
Then wakes in man his nature high,
He feels his immortality;
And in the peace at evening given
Bethinks him he is heir of heaven.
"The thought of our past years in me doth breedPerpetual benediction."—Wordsworth.
"The thought of our past years in me doth breedPerpetual benediction."—Wordsworth.
"The thought of our past years in me doth breedPerpetual benediction."—Wordsworth.
"The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction."—Wordsworth.
In August 1861 Bessie was removed to Bognor for the benefit of sea air, and began to show signs of complete recovery. Some of the sisters were her constant companions and devoted nurses; she received visits from her parents, and loving letters from many friends.
She returned to Chichester in the late autumn, restored to her usual average of health; and in December the Bishop wrote to her, the eldest daughter at home, as he had done in the old days when she was a girl, to prepare for the return of the family from Brighton.
Christmas was spent as usual at the palace, and with the new year Bessie began gradually to resume her work for the Institution.
Her first frame letter was written in March 1862 to her father, and has been preserved:
Palace, Chichester,1st March 1862.My dearest Papa—I had long ago settled that my first letter with the frame should be to you, and mostthankful I am to be able to be at the "stocking making" again, though very likely I shall not make a very good workwoman; but please take the work, such as it is, as a little sign that Bessie has not forgotten all the love shown her while she was ill, how you used to come and sit with her in the midst of all you had to do. I am very very thankful to be so much stronger, and to have been brought through the suffering as I have been.I hope you will take care of yourself when you start for confirmations, the winds now are so bitterly cold. Indeed, you do provide well for us; it will be very enjoyable to have the Brownes. Did you see that curious letter inThe Timesnot long since, headed "Is it—;" I thought it would interest you. I hope it has not been necessary to light gas to-day for morning service. However, the day has not been very bright here. Yesterday I was out in the garden in the morning, but I have a little cold and so was not tempted to-day, as there was no sun. Robin is to sleep here to-night; he preaches, I think, at St. Andrews. Very much love to mamma and all.—I am ever your dutiful and loving child,Bessie.
Palace, Chichester,1st March 1862.
My dearest Papa—I had long ago settled that my first letter with the frame should be to you, and mostthankful I am to be able to be at the "stocking making" again, though very likely I shall not make a very good workwoman; but please take the work, such as it is, as a little sign that Bessie has not forgotten all the love shown her while she was ill, how you used to come and sit with her in the midst of all you had to do. I am very very thankful to be so much stronger, and to have been brought through the suffering as I have been.
I hope you will take care of yourself when you start for confirmations, the winds now are so bitterly cold. Indeed, you do provide well for us; it will be very enjoyable to have the Brownes. Did you see that curious letter inThe Timesnot long since, headed "Is it—;" I thought it would interest you. I hope it has not been necessary to light gas to-day for morning service. However, the day has not been very bright here. Yesterday I was out in the garden in the morning, but I have a little cold and so was not tempted to-day, as there was no sun. Robin is to sleep here to-night; he preaches, I think, at St. Andrews. Very much love to mamma and all.—I am ever your dutiful and loving child,
Bessie.
The difficulties of the Association had increased during the period of Bessie's illness and absence.
Subscriptions and donations now amounted to between two and three thousand a year, and goods had been sold to about the same amount. But so large a percentage on sales was paid to all blind agents and travellers and to Mr. Levy that the increase of trade threatened to swamp the undertaking. Moreover, sales did not keep pace with productive power, and a large quantity of stock was on hand.
A Sub-Committee was appointed to investigatethe financial condition of the Association, and their report, practical and sound as it was, proved very distasteful to Bessie.
They advised the employment of a sighted shopman, the substitution of some easier and more accurate method of keeping accounts, the payment of all money received into the bank, and an arrangement under which Mr. and Mrs. Levy should receive a fixed salary in lieu of commission on sales. They also intimated their belief that the time had come when the Society must look to its director simply for general management, and must be prepared to employ a thoroughly efficient staff in the shop and workrooms.
The report really amounted to a suggestion to supersede her faithful manager; a step to which Bessie and Levy were equally opposed. Bessie hoped to avert it by raising money to pay the debts, and open a West-end shop; and as the Committee was powerless without the alliance of the Lady President, there was at any rate a reprieve.
To obviate one of the difficulties arising from want of funds, the Bishop offered £40 a year as the wages of a sighted shopman, in addition to his subscription of £5.
He announces this in a letter written from Queen Anne Street on the 22d May 1862, to Bessie at Chichester. His offer was gratefully accepted by the Committee. It was also arranged that donations and subscriptions should be paid into the banking account; and not, as hitherto, used as soon asreceived in the payment of bills and wages. But the director was unwilling to relinquish any of his duties, and Bessie considered that when her own health, which was rapidly improving, should be quite re-established, the assistance she could give would lighten his duties and responsibilities.
Under these circumstances there seemed no pressing need of reform in the management. Bessie had one remedy for all the suggestions of the Sub-Committee; and this was to plead both in public and in private for money and custom. In 1863 there were articles and letters inThe Times, and in all the principal London journals, and a paper in Miss Yonge'sMonthly Packetby Mrs. Hooper, who had previously written on the subject inHousehold Words. Mr. Gladstone was asked to speak at the annual meeting to be held in May, and replied:
11 Downing Street, Whitehall,17th March 1863.Madam—It would be with so much regret that I should decline a request proceeding from you, that although uncertain whether my public duties may permit me to attend the meeting to which you refer, on the 11th May, I cheerfully engage to do so, subject only to the contingency of any call upon me elsewhere, such as I may be unable to decline.—I have the honour to be, madam, your very faithful servant,W. E. Gladstone.Miss Gilbert.
11 Downing Street, Whitehall,17th March 1863.
Madam—It would be with so much regret that I should decline a request proceeding from you, that although uncertain whether my public duties may permit me to attend the meeting to which you refer, on the 11th May, I cheerfully engage to do so, subject only to the contingency of any call upon me elsewhere, such as I may be unable to decline.—I have the honour to be, madam, your very faithful servant,
W. E. Gladstone.
Miss Gilbert.
Mr. Gladstone attended the meeting and advocated the claims of the Association, not, as he said, from motives of philanthropy but as a politicaleconomist, and because it was founded on sound principles. He said:
"While this Association aims to promote the general welfare of the blind, it aims at promoting that welfare in a very specific manner and by well-determined means. It is not founded on the idea that the blind, because they have suffered a great and heavy visitation, are therefore to be the mere passive recipients of that which the liberality of their fellow-creatures may bestow. It does not proceed on the idea that because the blind are so, they have therefore ceased to partake in other respects in that mysterious nature of which we are all partakers, with its immense capabilities and powers, with its high hopes and great dangers. For in all other respects the blind continue to be sharers in every thing pertaining to us as men; and if I rightly apprehend the idea of this Institution, it is this, that while we minister to the wants of the blind in a specific manner, yet we still consider them as rational beings, as members of society, as capable of various purposes, as not intended to be sent into a corner, or to be excommunicated from us; but as intended to bear their part as citizens, as enlightened and civilised creatures, and as Christians. Employment given to the blind is a great source of happiness. The sentence which was termed the primeval curse, if on one side it presented the aspect of a curse, also presented on the other the aspect of a blessing,—the necessity, the condition of true happiness. Employment is a blessing forus all, but it is much more to the blind. Employment to the blind is the condition of mental serenity, of comfort and resignation. Employment to the blind is also the condition of subsistence,—that is, of honourable and independent subsistence. It is a great thing for an institution when we are enabled to say that its rules and practice are in harmony with political economy, for political economy is founded on truth. I believe that the rules of the Association are based on the laws which regulate the accumulation and distribution of the means of subsistence. In this Association we have the union of what the coldest prudence would dictate, and of what the most affectionate Christian heart would desire."
Mr. Gladstone was at that time the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and his advocacy was very valuable. The pecuniary result of the meeting, which had given her some months of labour, was most gratifying to Bessie, and she resumed her work of collecting funds with fresh ardour. We find her making application, in vain, for a grant from the Peabody Fund. The question of State aid for the blind was suggested to her, and she set to work in the usual patient and thorough way, to obtain information and to look around for influential help. But the autumn brought sorrow and grave anxiety, which almost put a stop to other work. Mrs. Gilbert, whose health had long been failing, declined rapidly. Bessie remained at Chichester, and wrote constantly andvery tenderly to the sister, Mrs. Elliot, who was unable to leave her own home, and yet anxious to be with her mother if the illness should prove alarming. Bessie writes an autograph letter on 9th December 1863, tells of the arrival of married sisters at the palace, of the anxiety of Dr. Tyacke and her father, of the sympathy they all feel for the one who cannot join them, "we know how much your heart is with us, and how much we should like to have you here.... I have just heard that Mary thinks mamma looking better than she expected, and Sarah says she does not think her looking quite so ill as on Monday. It is a pleasure to tell you anything the least cheering.... You do not know how sorry we all are for you; I hope you will not find this letter difficult to read. I wished especially to write to you to-day to tell you how we all think of you, and feel for and with you in all this difficulty and anxiety."
That evening a younger sister prepared some arrowroot in the sick-room, and the blind daughter administered it carefully, spoonful after spoonful, to her dying mother. "It pleased them both so much," we are told, and it was the last office of love, for on the 10th December Mrs. Gilbert died.
The death of this warm-hearted, generous woman, who had made home so happy for her children, devoted wife and loving mother, was a crushing blow. Death had not visited the home for nearly thirty years, and this great grief openedup the possibility of future loss, and was as a pillar of cloud that followed them.
Miss Law, writing to Bessie on the 23d of January 1864, says:
I can indeed most fully enter into all you have felt and are feeling still, under this dark shadow, which has fallen around you; but surely by and by you will be enabled to see the light that must be shining behind it. Oh, I do trust that the sad empty place in all your hearts may each day be filled more and more with the loving presence of Him who has sounded all the deepest depths of human sorrow and suffering, that He might know how to feel for and comfort us the better. Yes, you must indeed feel comforted already in the thought of the fulness of her joy and rest and peace. I am very glad your poor father has been so strengthened through his great trouble; he is rich in having many loving children to help and comfort him.... My book has been far more successful already than I had expected; there have been several very nice reviews; we are going to have them reprinted altogether, and then I will send you a copy.... Some day I should like to know your thoughts about my little poems, and which ones you like best among them. Dear Miss Proctor [Adelaide] is still very ill, though at times she revives wonderfully. I was able to see her twice when I was in town. She writes to me now and then herself, and her sister Edith constantly.
I can indeed most fully enter into all you have felt and are feeling still, under this dark shadow, which has fallen around you; but surely by and by you will be enabled to see the light that must be shining behind it. Oh, I do trust that the sad empty place in all your hearts may each day be filled more and more with the loving presence of Him who has sounded all the deepest depths of human sorrow and suffering, that He might know how to feel for and comfort us the better. Yes, you must indeed feel comforted already in the thought of the fulness of her joy and rest and peace. I am very glad your poor father has been so strengthened through his great trouble; he is rich in having many loving children to help and comfort him.... My book has been far more successful already than I had expected; there have been several very nice reviews; we are going to have them reprinted altogether, and then I will send you a copy.... Some day I should like to know your thoughts about my little poems, and which ones you like best among them. Dear Miss Proctor [Adelaide] is still very ill, though at times she revives wonderfully. I was able to see her twice when I was in town. She writes to me now and then herself, and her sister Edith constantly.
Not long before Mrs. Gilbert's death the possible marriage of a younger daughter had greatly interested her. She looked forward with confidence to her child's future happiness, and when her own condition became serious she begged that in no case might the marriage be postponed. Itwas therefore solemnised in March 1864 as quietly as possible. This sister, H——, had been for some years Bessie's special ally, and the loss of her active help and unfailing sympathy was severely felt.
"He who has but one aim, and refers all things to one principle, and views all things in one light, is able to abide steadfast, and to rest in God."—Thomas à Kempis.
"He who has but one aim, and refers all things to one principle, and views all things in one light, is able to abide steadfast, and to rest in God."—Thomas à Kempis.
Goods manufactured by the blind had been for some years advanced to blind agents on a system known as "sale or return." This had proved satisfactory so long as the agents were carefully selected. But there had been some relaxation in the requisite caution, and large consignments had been made to blind men who returned neither money nor goods, and who were found to be without either honesty or cash. In 1864 the loss to the Institution by sale and return amounted to more than £1200.
Bessie was not discouraged by the loss. She felt so keenly the force of the temptations to which the blind were exposed, and the possibility that they had at first hoped and intended to be honest, and had only gradually fallen into evil ways, that it was with difficulty she could be induced to acquiesce in the abolition of a system which workedso badly. However, it had to be given up, and she set to work to pay the debts incurred.
Instead of the annual meeting of May 1865, a bazaar in aid of the funds of the Institution was suggested.
The first idea of this was very distasteful to Bessie. She had a horror of the ordinary bazaar. But it was pointed out that a sale of goods on behalf of the blind, held in the right place and by the right persons, would have none of the features to which she so justly objected. Her scruples were overcome, and after she had given her consent she devoted the autumn and winter months of 1864 and the early part of 1865 to the necessary preparations for the undertaking. She applied to the Duke and the late Duchess of Argyle for permission to hold the sale in Argyle Lodge. They very kindly consented; and the Duchess suggested that if any use was to be made of the grounds of Argyle Lodge the date fixed should not be too early in the spring. In consequence of this advice it was resolved to hold the sale on the 21st and 22d of June.
As the time appointed drew near, Bessie's labours were saddened and rendered difficult by a great loss. Her brother-in-law, Colonel the Honourable Gilbert Elliot, who had never quite recovered from the effects of the South African and Crimean campaigns, was taken seriously ill in March and died on the 25th of May 1865.
The arrangements for the sale, which was a public undertaking, were now completed, and itwas decided to proceed with it, but the work was carried on by Bessie at great cost and with a heavy heart; for, as she says in one of her rare autograph letters, sent to Mrs. Elliot on the 25th May: "You know how we all love dear Gilbert."
Many friends came forward to offer such help as could be given, and the sale promised to be a success. The list of stall-holders was excellent, and encouraged Bessie to hope for a good attendance and good results.
Lady Constance Grosvenor, Lady Blantyre, Lady Jocelyn, Lady Victoria Wellesley, the Marchioness of Waterford and Lady Anson, the Marchioness of Ormonde, Miss Gilbert, Mrs. Imwood Jones, Mrs. Green, Mrs. King, Mrs. Fox, Mrs. C. Dyke and Lady Geraldine St. Maur held stalls. Gate money and the sale of goods produced £1078. Over £200 was received in donations, and the net result of the sale was more than £1300.
Bessie had good reason to be satisfied, not only with the money but with the influential patrons she had secured for the Institution. The report for the following year gives an imposing list of vice-patrons,—the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, the Dukes of Rutland and Argyle, the Earls of Abergavenny, Chichester, and Darnley, the Bishops of St. David's, Chichester, Lichfield, Oxford, St. Asaph, and Lincoln, Lord Ebury, Lord Houghton, Mr. Gladstone, Sir Roundell Palmer, the Dean of Westminster, and Professor Fawcett.
The pecuniary result of the sale, though perhaps not all that was expected, seemed to justify the Committee in taking a West-end shop. They secured No. 210 Oxford Street, and decided to keep the old houses in the Euston Road as workshops.
Mr. Levy, in a letter sent to Chichester on the 30th September 1865, announces the completion of the arrangements for a lease on the terms offered by the Committee. He adds that one brushmaker has a shop nine doors off, and another brushmaker has a shop twenty-four doors off, but he thinks their vicinity will not injure the Association. He probably expected that influential patrons and their friends would purchase from the blind, and that no orders would go astray. This expectation was not realised, and in the course of two or three years the vicinity of the two brush shops was found to be a serious disadvantage.
During the early summer of this year Bessie received a letter written on behalf of the Committee of the Blind Asylum at Brighton; asking if their schoolmistress and her assistant, who were not themselves blind, could be received for "a few days" in the "asylum in the Euston Road." They wanted to see the working of it, and more especially to learn the trades taught to women.
Bessie replied that the Institution was not an "asylum," and that no one could be received to live in the house. She expressed her disapproval of the employment of "sighted" teachers, but offeredto arrange with the Brighton Committee for the reception of one or two blind persons to be taught brush-making and other trades, with a view to becoming teachers. She explained fully the objects of the Association, and expressed her opinion that an attempt to acquire any trade "in a few days" could only result in misconception and failure.
There were several letters on both sides, but neither yielded. Bessie would not consent to train "sighted" teachers "in a few days," and Brighton would not send blind pupils.
Three years previously the Davenport Institution had applied for a blind teacher. A man trained by the Association had been sent, and had given entire satisfaction. He succeeded a "sighted" teacher, and was said to have done more in six months than his predecessor in two years. Bessie always urged the necessity of employing blind teachers, on the ground that they alone could know all the difficulties of the blind; and it would have been impossible for her to sanction so retrograde a step as the training of "sighted" teachers in an institution full of blind persons, many of whom were quite capable of teaching others.
Bessie left London much exhausted by the labours and sorrow of the spring.
She required a long rest to restore her strength. We have a short account of her summer in the following letter to Miss Butler, written in October, from Queen Anne Street.
My dear Miss Butler—... I am sure you must have thought it strange that I have not answered your letter long before this, but I wanted to have the pleasure of writing to you myself, and I have just lately had a good deal of work, I mean handy-work, which has prevented my so doing. Added to which I only returned home about a fortnight ago after, for me, a wonderfully long absence, about which I must tell you presently.I have come up to-day from Chichester for our Committee to-morrow, and am talking to you in this way in the evening. I too am very sorry not to have seen you this year, but I hope we may see you still. How are you after all your nursing and anxiety. You must want some refreshment, I should think.Now with regard to Mr. —— I shall be very glad to do anything I can, but I really hardly see what I can say or do. My father generally likes these sort of things to be official, and I really don't think I should do any good by mentioning Mr. ——'s name before the ordination. Papa would only say to me: "The examination must take its usual course, and I cannot do anything," he would say. Still I will take an opportunity of saying something, nor would I hesitate at all about it, but that I really think that with papa such a mention would do no good. I hope you will quite understand that I have not said all this from any unwillingness to do what you ask, but really because I don't see how to do so to any purpose; otherwise it would give me particular pleasure to do it for you at your request. I am very glad indeed you have succeeded so well with ——. Every such practical proof of what a blind person can do is a help more or less to the general cause. Thank you very much for making the experiment with her.I told you I had been long away from home. I felt I wanted a complete change. I don't know when I ever felt this so much. Well, I paid some visits, one at about twenty-three miles from Birmingham, and fromthence I went to the festival. I heardSt. Paul; and the day but one after theMessiah. I cannot tell you what enjoyment this music was to me; never did I hear such choruses. Each individual singer seemed to love the music. I shall never forget the wondrous beauty of the singing. However, I was completely knocked up afterwards for three or four days, but it was well worth all the headache and exhaustion which I had after it. The journey there and back was a very great additional fatigue. Altogether I enjoyed my visits very much, and am all the better for them, ready, I hope, please God, for plenty of work this winter. Will you please send me the money in your hands before December. We have deposited money towards the working capital, and I am most anxious if possible to find money for current expenses without touching this capital, and also if possible to add to the deposit. Of course the more custom the better; I very much want regular custom from wine merchants for baskets, that we may employ basketmakers accordingly.Can you get some such custom with my love to your Mother I am yours ever affectionately Bessie Gilbert my sisters are well only Sarah at home Papa very well good bye.
My dear Miss Butler—... I am sure you must have thought it strange that I have not answered your letter long before this, but I wanted to have the pleasure of writing to you myself, and I have just lately had a good deal of work, I mean handy-work, which has prevented my so doing. Added to which I only returned home about a fortnight ago after, for me, a wonderfully long absence, about which I must tell you presently.
I have come up to-day from Chichester for our Committee to-morrow, and am talking to you in this way in the evening. I too am very sorry not to have seen you this year, but I hope we may see you still. How are you after all your nursing and anxiety. You must want some refreshment, I should think.
Now with regard to Mr. —— I shall be very glad to do anything I can, but I really hardly see what I can say or do. My father generally likes these sort of things to be official, and I really don't think I should do any good by mentioning Mr. ——'s name before the ordination. Papa would only say to me: "The examination must take its usual course, and I cannot do anything," he would say. Still I will take an opportunity of saying something, nor would I hesitate at all about it, but that I really think that with papa such a mention would do no good. I hope you will quite understand that I have not said all this from any unwillingness to do what you ask, but really because I don't see how to do so to any purpose; otherwise it would give me particular pleasure to do it for you at your request. I am very glad indeed you have succeeded so well with ——. Every such practical proof of what a blind person can do is a help more or less to the general cause. Thank you very much for making the experiment with her.
I told you I had been long away from home. I felt I wanted a complete change. I don't know when I ever felt this so much. Well, I paid some visits, one at about twenty-three miles from Birmingham, and fromthence I went to the festival. I heardSt. Paul; and the day but one after theMessiah. I cannot tell you what enjoyment this music was to me; never did I hear such choruses. Each individual singer seemed to love the music. I shall never forget the wondrous beauty of the singing. However, I was completely knocked up afterwards for three or four days, but it was well worth all the headache and exhaustion which I had after it. The journey there and back was a very great additional fatigue. Altogether I enjoyed my visits very much, and am all the better for them, ready, I hope, please God, for plenty of work this winter. Will you please send me the money in your hands before December. We have deposited money towards the working capital, and I am most anxious if possible to find money for current expenses without touching this capital, and also if possible to add to the deposit. Of course the more custom the better; I very much want regular custom from wine merchants for baskets, that we may employ basketmakers accordingly.
Can you get some such custom with my love to your Mother I am yours ever affectionately Bessie Gilbert my sisters are well only Sarah at home Papa very well good bye.
The last sentence is printed as it stands, and gives a specimen of the occasional want of capitals and of punctuation almost inevitable when the writer is hurried. But think of the concentration required to write letters which allow of no interruption and no revision.
In the autumn of this year an excellent scheme was inaugurated, capable of a development which it has never yet received. The object of it was to enable blind persons living in the country to learn a trade suited to their own neighbourhood,and to be instructed in reading and writing without the expense and very grave risk of a prolonged residence in London.
It was proposed to send a blind teacher, with his wife, to lodge in any village or town where there were persons whose friends were willing and able to provide for their instruction. These persons were to be taught at their own homes, or in some more convenient place, a remunerative trade, such as cane and rushwork, the making of beehives, rush baskets, and garden nets; mat-making, chair-caning, etc. They were also to be taught reading, and the use of appliances for writing and keeping accounts.
The Association did not undertake to supply any work, it had to be found in the neighbourhood. With the help of the charitable it was considered that this ought not to be difficult; and even if the blind did not entirely earn their own living, the little they could do would be a help so far as it went. Bessie had proved long before this that employment, with the intercourse it brings, is the greatest alleviation to the suffering of many a blind man or woman. During the autumn of 1865 two blind persons in the country were taught trades at their own homes, and also learned to read and write. The cost was not more than £10 for each person, a sum much less than that which has to be provided for those who are sent to London for training.
Some day, perhaps, these peripatetic blind instructors may once more be sent out by theInstitution, with advantage both to themselves and others.
A period of steady quiet work was now before Bessie. Letters, appeals, investigations, and reports filled her time.
The Archbishop of York presided at the annual meeting in 1866, and the balance-sheet for that year shows receipts amounting to £7632. She found herself engaged in a large commercial as well as a philanthropic undertaking; and the success of her industrial work began to tell, not only in Great Britain, but in the United States of America. She was much gratified by the report of the Principal of the Pennsylvania Institution for the Instruction of the Blind, 1866, in which the following passage occurs:
We are gratified to report the successful working of the literary and musical branches of the Institution, and also the favourable progress of our manufacturing department, in teaching and employing blind persons in useful trades; experience every year confirms the necessity of a house of industry for the regular employment of pupils whose term of instruction has terminated, and of the adult blind.The education of the blind is a simple matter; nor is it susceptible of much improvement in the way of securing their future welfare. The great idea which encourages the establishment and support of all such institutions by the several States is the preparation of the blind for future usefulness and happiness, by self-dependence. Their misfortune unfits them for the large number of industrial and professional pursuits open to the seeing; but there are mechanical arts in which they become good, if not rapid workers. The difficulty with many,especially those without friends and homes, is in securing employment, and in earning fully enough for their support. Without this, the failure, idleness, and demoralisation which too often follow prove how imperfect is their previous instruction in this direction.The "Association for Promoting the General Welfare of the Blind," founded in London by Miss E. Gilbert, is an example of a very practical organisation for the employment of the blind, which has been alluded to in our former reports. It gives work, in various ways, to about 170 adult blind persons, many of whom were previously begging in the streets. The deficiency of their earnings is supplied by annual subscriptions and legacies, the usual sources of support in Great Britain for the benevolent institutions.Such institutions will never be self-sustaining. But the support of an industrial association which enables every blind person to earn 100, 200, or 300 dollars a year, is certainly better than to throw such persons upon the charities of the wayside, or to consign them to pensioned idleness.
We are gratified to report the successful working of the literary and musical branches of the Institution, and also the favourable progress of our manufacturing department, in teaching and employing blind persons in useful trades; experience every year confirms the necessity of a house of industry for the regular employment of pupils whose term of instruction has terminated, and of the adult blind.
The education of the blind is a simple matter; nor is it susceptible of much improvement in the way of securing their future welfare. The great idea which encourages the establishment and support of all such institutions by the several States is the preparation of the blind for future usefulness and happiness, by self-dependence. Their misfortune unfits them for the large number of industrial and professional pursuits open to the seeing; but there are mechanical arts in which they become good, if not rapid workers. The difficulty with many,especially those without friends and homes, is in securing employment, and in earning fully enough for their support. Without this, the failure, idleness, and demoralisation which too often follow prove how imperfect is their previous instruction in this direction.
The "Association for Promoting the General Welfare of the Blind," founded in London by Miss E. Gilbert, is an example of a very practical organisation for the employment of the blind, which has been alluded to in our former reports. It gives work, in various ways, to about 170 adult blind persons, many of whom were previously begging in the streets. The deficiency of their earnings is supplied by annual subscriptions and legacies, the usual sources of support in Great Britain for the benevolent institutions.
Such institutions will never be self-sustaining. But the support of an industrial association which enables every blind person to earn 100, 200, or 300 dollars a year, is certainly better than to throw such persons upon the charities of the wayside, or to consign them to pensioned idleness.
In the autumn of this year Bessie was at Chichester, and in addition to the difficulty of walking, which she experienced after any time of hard work, she began to discover that vibration from any great or sudden noise affected her painfully. She drove with her father and a sister from Chichester to Kingly Bottom, a vale in the South Downs, for the last day's shooting of the rifle volunteer corps in September 1866. The sharp crack of the rifles tried her greatly, and brought on so much pain that she was glad to accept a seat in the carriage of a friend and go home, instead of waiting, as the Bishop wished todo, for the end of the match. The noise seemed to exhaust her.
During the autumn of 1866 Mr. F. Green, who for many years had rendered great service by his work on the Committee, presented to the Association five shares of £100 in the Marine Insurance Company, of which he was a director. They yielded at that time £40 a year, and the gift was a source of much gratification to Bessie.
She was at Chichester in December, and wrote thence on the 21st to her widowed sister, Mrs. Elliot, dwelling on the service she could render to others:
"Having you must make all the difference," she says, when alluding to a succession of troubles which had fallen upon Lady Minto, with whom Mrs. Elliot was staying. "Really there is not and will not be any lack of work for you. You have had, I should think, quite as much as you could do for some time past.... There is a chance of Tom's coming in January.... I suppose you know all about him and his doings. I can't think how he would have got on without you."
"Having you must make all the difference," she says, when alluding to a succession of troubles which had fallen upon Lady Minto, with whom Mrs. Elliot was staying. "Really there is not and will not be any lack of work for you. You have had, I should think, quite as much as you could do for some time past.... There is a chance of Tom's coming in January.... I suppose you know all about him and his doings. I can't think how he would have got on without you."
Then she gives news from home:
I am expecting them in after the ordination every moment. This time it is in the cathedral; twelve candidates I think. Papa came down to breakfast this morning, and was to go in time for the whole service. Only think, one of the priests has been in agonies of toothache all through the examination; but in spite of it Mr. Browne was delighted with all he did. The poor man had two teeth taken out, and happily to-day was flourishing.... I do hope you will like the little paper knife which I am so veryglad to send you. I was quite taken with the little bells of the lilies.... Nora to-day is quite in her element and full of work, putting up a number of parcels to send off in different directions.... Ever your loving sister,Bessie Gilbert.
I am expecting them in after the ordination every moment. This time it is in the cathedral; twelve candidates I think. Papa came down to breakfast this morning, and was to go in time for the whole service. Only think, one of the priests has been in agonies of toothache all through the examination; but in spite of it Mr. Browne was delighted with all he did. The poor man had two teeth taken out, and happily to-day was flourishing.... I do hope you will like the little paper knife which I am so veryglad to send you. I was quite taken with the little bells of the lilies.... Nora to-day is quite in her element and full of work, putting up a number of parcels to send off in different directions.... Ever your loving sister,
Bessie Gilbert.
"Tom," of whom she speaks, had recently been appointed Vicar of Heversham, near Milnthorpe; and Mrs. Elliot had visited him at the vicarage, and superintended the domestic arrangements of her bachelor brother.
Bessie received no Christmas box which gave her more pleasure than the following poem, which appeared inPunchon the 29th of December:
A Box for Blindman's Buff.Sit down to eat and drink on this glad day,And blest be he that first cries, "Hold, enough!"Gorge, boys, and girls; and then rise up to play.Youcan. A game in season's Blindman's Buff.The ready fillet round the seamless browOf youth or maiden while quick fingers bind,Beneath the golden-green pearl-berried bough,What fun it is to play at being blind!But some at Blindman's Buff with eyes unboundMight join, for whom less sport that game would beBecause it is their life's continual round:The Blindman's Buff of those that cannot see.If poor, for alms they can but grope about.But Science to their need assistance lends;And "knowledge, at one entrance quite shut out,"Puts veritably at their fingers' ends.Thus they who else would starve to labour learn.Does that consideration strike your mind?Their living do you wish that they should earn,Instead of crying "Pity the poor Blind?"Then know there's not a charitable Dun,Subscription seeking at your gate who knocks,That more deserves your bounty than the oneWho for the Blind requests a Christmas Box.At Oxford Street's two-hundred-and-tenth doorInquire within about the Blind Man's Friend.Or send your guinea, if you like, or more;As many more as you can spare to send.Punch, 29th December 1866.
A Box for Blindman's Buff.
A Box for Blindman's Buff.
Sit down to eat and drink on this glad day,And blest be he that first cries, "Hold, enough!"Gorge, boys, and girls; and then rise up to play.Youcan. A game in season's Blindman's Buff.
Sit down to eat and drink on this glad day,
And blest be he that first cries, "Hold, enough!"
Gorge, boys, and girls; and then rise up to play.
Youcan. A game in season's Blindman's Buff.
The ready fillet round the seamless browOf youth or maiden while quick fingers bind,Beneath the golden-green pearl-berried bough,What fun it is to play at being blind!
The ready fillet round the seamless brow
Of youth or maiden while quick fingers bind,
Beneath the golden-green pearl-berried bough,
What fun it is to play at being blind!
But some at Blindman's Buff with eyes unboundMight join, for whom less sport that game would beBecause it is their life's continual round:The Blindman's Buff of those that cannot see.
But some at Blindman's Buff with eyes unbound
Might join, for whom less sport that game would be
Because it is their life's continual round:
The Blindman's Buff of those that cannot see.
If poor, for alms they can but grope about.But Science to their need assistance lends;And "knowledge, at one entrance quite shut out,"Puts veritably at their fingers' ends.
If poor, for alms they can but grope about.
But Science to their need assistance lends;
And "knowledge, at one entrance quite shut out,"
Puts veritably at their fingers' ends.
Thus they who else would starve to labour learn.Does that consideration strike your mind?Their living do you wish that they should earn,Instead of crying "Pity the poor Blind?"
Thus they who else would starve to labour learn.
Does that consideration strike your mind?
Their living do you wish that they should earn,
Instead of crying "Pity the poor Blind?"
Then know there's not a charitable Dun,Subscription seeking at your gate who knocks,That more deserves your bounty than the oneWho for the Blind requests a Christmas Box.
Then know there's not a charitable Dun,
Subscription seeking at your gate who knocks,
That more deserves your bounty than the one
Who for the Blind requests a Christmas Box.
At Oxford Street's two-hundred-and-tenth doorInquire within about the Blind Man's Friend.Or send your guinea, if you like, or more;As many more as you can spare to send.
At Oxford Street's two-hundred-and-tenth door
Inquire within about the Blind Man's Friend.
Or send your guinea, if you like, or more;
As many more as you can spare to send.
Punch, 29th December 1866.
Punch, 29th December 1866.
In August 1867 Bessie paid her first visit to the Vicar of Heversham. She writes a "frame" letter from the North to Mrs. Elliot, and sends warm appreciation of her work in the house, and of the "little three-cornered things in the pink room." The "nice woman" was probably a certain Jane Todd, formerly a servant, but at that time settled in a home of her own. Quite an extraordinary friendship sprang up between her and Bessie, and to the end of her life Jane Todd daily offered up special prayers on behalf of her friend the blind lady.
There are again ominous allusions to her difficulty in walking. "I walk better here," she says; and again, "I can't tell you how much I enjoy moving more freely."
Heversham, Milnthorpe,23d August 1867.My dear K.—I meant my first frame letter from here to be to you, so now I am beginning it. I havethe morning room which you used to have, and enjoy it very much. How nice the house is, and how you must have worked to make it so. Mrs. Argles and Mrs. Braithwaite seem very much impressed with all your hard work. Is it true that those little three-cornered things in the pink room with the china on them were washhand stands? You have made a capital use of them.... I walked up the lower Head yesterday, then stayed there and had some tea brought me, and afterwards walked to the school through all those stiles. After the meeting we came back by the road. I have been able to walk better here, and it is such a pleasure. I can't tell you how much I enjoy moving more freely. Wednesday I walked as far as the house at Levens and back after a rest at a cottage near, where we found a very nice woman who certainly talked Westmoreland, but really with a pretty accent.... Your loving sister,Bessie.
Heversham, Milnthorpe,23d August 1867.
My dear K.—I meant my first frame letter from here to be to you, so now I am beginning it. I havethe morning room which you used to have, and enjoy it very much. How nice the house is, and how you must have worked to make it so. Mrs. Argles and Mrs. Braithwaite seem very much impressed with all your hard work. Is it true that those little three-cornered things in the pink room with the china on them were washhand stands? You have made a capital use of them.... I walked up the lower Head yesterday, then stayed there and had some tea brought me, and afterwards walked to the school through all those stiles. After the meeting we came back by the road. I have been able to walk better here, and it is such a pleasure. I can't tell you how much I enjoy moving more freely. Wednesday I walked as far as the house at Levens and back after a rest at a cottage near, where we found a very nice woman who certainly talked Westmoreland, but really with a pretty accent.... Your loving sister,
Bessie.
The difficulty in walking, to which she alludes, had again increased; and in 1867 or 1868 she consulted Sir James Paget with regard to it. He thought it proceeded from weak ankles and general debility, and prescribed rest and care.
She was at Queen Anne Street in February 1868, and much interested in a public dinner at Chichester at which her father was to be present Dean Hook wrote to give her an account of the proceedings.
The Deanery, Chichester,5th February 1868.My dear Miss Gilbert—I cannot help writing to tell you that the dear good Bishop was yesterday more animated and more eloquent than I ever heard him. He seemed so well and so happy that I am glad he went. It was indeed an ovation to his lordship, asmuch as to the Mayor; he was so enthusiastically received. As I knew that you were anxious about him, under the notion that he was doing too much, I trouble you with this note. The calm serenity with which he always does his duty, and in performing it does his best, is a very beautiful trait in his character, and I doubt not now that he will get through his visitation duties without suffering too much from fatigue. It is not work, it is worry which tries a man, and all his clergy will exert themselves to save him from worries.—Believe me to be, your affectionate friend,W. F. Hook.
The Deanery, Chichester,5th February 1868.
My dear Miss Gilbert—I cannot help writing to tell you that the dear good Bishop was yesterday more animated and more eloquent than I ever heard him. He seemed so well and so happy that I am glad he went. It was indeed an ovation to his lordship, asmuch as to the Mayor; he was so enthusiastically received. As I knew that you were anxious about him, under the notion that he was doing too much, I trouble you with this note. The calm serenity with which he always does his duty, and in performing it does his best, is a very beautiful trait in his character, and I doubt not now that he will get through his visitation duties without suffering too much from fatigue. It is not work, it is worry which tries a man, and all his clergy will exert themselves to save him from worries.—Believe me to be, your affectionate friend,
W. F. Hook.
Bessie's own work at this time was mainly the preparation for the annual meeting in May, together with appeals for custom to the secretaries of public institutions.
The Lady Superintendent of the Hospital for Sick Children in Great Ormond Street replies that brushes for the Hospital are always purchased at the depot in Euston Road.
The Secretary of the Islington Shoe Black Brigade tells her that so far as he can, consistently with the interests of his Society, and as regards the price charged for various articles, he has always given the Society for the Blind as much custom as possible. These are types of innumerable answers; and she went on with this drudgery year after year; every ignoble detail of it glorified by the constant presence of the aim for which she worked. The sufferings of the blind poor were always borne in her heart; the hope of alleviating them was the mainspring of all her actions. Letters, accounts, appeals, petitions, these are allthe machinery with which she works. She has learnt the proportion of result to be expected, and is seldom disappointed or disheartened by indifference or coldness. But encouragement and approval from those whom she honours is very helpful to her.
At the meeting held on 14th May 1868 Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Fawcett, and Professor Owen were amongst the principal speakers. Mr. Gladstone wrote as follows on the 8th:
11Carlton House Terrace, S.W.,8th May 1868.My dear Madam—If Mr. Levy will kindly call on me at half-past one on the 14th, I will take the instructions and information from him with reference to the meeting. I cannot be quite sure of escape from my duties in the House (which meets on Wednesdays at twelve) but unless necessity keeps me away you may depend upon me.—I remain, very faithfully yours,W. E.Gladstone.Miss Gilbert.
11Carlton House Terrace, S.W.,8th May 1868.
My dear Madam—If Mr. Levy will kindly call on me at half-past one on the 14th, I will take the instructions and information from him with reference to the meeting. I cannot be quite sure of escape from my duties in the House (which meets on Wednesdays at twelve) but unless necessity keeps me away you may depend upon me.—I remain, very faithfully yours,
W. E.Gladstone.
Miss Gilbert.
Mr. Gladstone's speech at that meeting is best described by its effect upon Bessie herself. She writes as follows:
Palace, Chichester,20th June 1868.My dear Kate—I have long been wishing to write to you, and, indeed, before the meeting a dictated letter was just begun to you, but there was no time to write it. After the meeting I was only too glad to do anything rather than write letters; any, therefore, which I could avoid I did, and also I wished to wait until I should have time and opportunity to write to you quietly myself. So now you see I have begun. Had it been at any other time I should have liked you to have beenpresent at the meeting. To you I can say without fear of reproof that some of Mr. Gladstone's words often come back upon me with a force and power that seems to kindle new life within me. I long to realise them, that I may more really feel them to be deserved. Professor Owen's was a beautiful speech. I think we shall clear about a hundred and twenty pounds.... From your ever loving sister,Bessie.
Palace, Chichester,20th June 1868.
My dear Kate—I have long been wishing to write to you, and, indeed, before the meeting a dictated letter was just begun to you, but there was no time to write it. After the meeting I was only too glad to do anything rather than write letters; any, therefore, which I could avoid I did, and also I wished to wait until I should have time and opportunity to write to you quietly myself. So now you see I have begun. Had it been at any other time I should have liked you to have beenpresent at the meeting. To you I can say without fear of reproof that some of Mr. Gladstone's words often come back upon me with a force and power that seems to kindle new life within me. I long to realise them, that I may more really feel them to be deserved. Professor Owen's was a beautiful speech. I think we shall clear about a hundred and twenty pounds.... From your ever loving sister,
Bessie.