"In recalling my impressions of Professor Elmslie, nothing strikes me so forcibly as his unfailing gentleness towards his students. It was very seldom indeed that any student was inattentive or troublesome in class, but when anything of the kind did occur Elmslie never spoke a word to the offender, and but for the pained flush on his face, one would have thought he had not noticed the occurrence. Again, when a student had not prepared his Hebrew lesson, and was unable to read it, Elmslie always appeared more ashamed than the student himself, but never said a word in blame or warning. Only he was afterwards chary of asking the same student to read."Elmslie was always ready to answer questions or meet any difficulties raised by the students, and he was often more eloquent on these occasions than when engaged in the ordinary routine of the class. He had rather a dislike for the schoolmaster's work that he was compelled to do with junior students, and hurried the class on until they were able to read passages in Hebrew. He did not aim so much at turning out Hebrew scholars as at making preachers, with a deep interest in Hebrew literature, and imbued with its spirit. If he could only secure our interest in a Hebrew author, and enlist our sympathies, he was willing to excuse any ignorance of ours in regard to grammar or syntax."
"In recalling my impressions of Professor Elmslie, nothing strikes me so forcibly as his unfailing gentleness towards his students. It was very seldom indeed that any student was inattentive or troublesome in class, but when anything of the kind did occur Elmslie never spoke a word to the offender, and but for the pained flush on his face, one would have thought he had not noticed the occurrence. Again, when a student had not prepared his Hebrew lesson, and was unable to read it, Elmslie always appeared more ashamed than the student himself, but never said a word in blame or warning. Only he was afterwards chary of asking the same student to read.
"Elmslie was always ready to answer questions or meet any difficulties raised by the students, and he was often more eloquent on these occasions than when engaged in the ordinary routine of the class. He had rather a dislike for the schoolmaster's work that he was compelled to do with junior students, and hurried the class on until they were able to read passages in Hebrew. He did not aim so much at turning out Hebrew scholars as at making preachers, with a deep interest in Hebrew literature, and imbued with its spirit. If he could only secure our interest in a Hebrew author, and enlist our sympathies, he was willing to excuse any ignorance of ours in regard to grammar or syntax."
Another says—
"Perhaps my most vivid remembrances of Dr. Elmsliecollect round his criticisms upon his students' trial discourses. Always kind, invariably conciliatory, in his criticism, yet he pointed out very plainly the defects, and indicated what was lacking with unfailing clearness of judgment. Even in the midst of his rebukes he would frequently take the bitterness away by some half-playful remark or reference to his own experiences.... But better than any criticisms were his own concluding remarks on the text. Compressed, as they had to be, into a very few minutes, the whole intensity of his nature was seen in them. We often left the lecture-hall with our brains all astir and our hearts glowing with the inspiration of his words."I rather think some of his first-year students generally thought him occasionally heretical in his remarks at the close of his criticism. The one thing he could not bear was dulness, a uniformity of mediocre unreproachableness about a sermon. So he loved to give with startling effect a single side of a truth, and thus to send us away with our minds in a state of rather anxious activity. Once he half-humorously gave us the advice to begin our sermons with a truth stated in an unusual, half-heretical way, if one liked; for there is nothing makes people listen so attentively as a suspicion of heresy. But these early doubts of our Professor's soundness soon vanished, and we found him, as one has said, 'not so muchbroad, asbig.'""He read to us a letter from a young man in much doubt as to whether he should enter the Wesleyan pulpit or no. His correspondent had read with relish Dr. Elmslie's article on Genesis. Could the Professor tell him of any books in which points of Christian faith were dealt with in an intelligent and convincing way? He, the correspondent, knew of no such books. Dr.Elmslie asked our opinion. I ventured to suggest that everybody had to hammer out these points of faith for himself. The Doctor was rather pleased with this remark, and at once said, 'Oh, yes! indeed he has, and to live them out too.'"
"Perhaps my most vivid remembrances of Dr. Elmsliecollect round his criticisms upon his students' trial discourses. Always kind, invariably conciliatory, in his criticism, yet he pointed out very plainly the defects, and indicated what was lacking with unfailing clearness of judgment. Even in the midst of his rebukes he would frequently take the bitterness away by some half-playful remark or reference to his own experiences.... But better than any criticisms were his own concluding remarks on the text. Compressed, as they had to be, into a very few minutes, the whole intensity of his nature was seen in them. We often left the lecture-hall with our brains all astir and our hearts glowing with the inspiration of his words.
"I rather think some of his first-year students generally thought him occasionally heretical in his remarks at the close of his criticism. The one thing he could not bear was dulness, a uniformity of mediocre unreproachableness about a sermon. So he loved to give with startling effect a single side of a truth, and thus to send us away with our minds in a state of rather anxious activity. Once he half-humorously gave us the advice to begin our sermons with a truth stated in an unusual, half-heretical way, if one liked; for there is nothing makes people listen so attentively as a suspicion of heresy. But these early doubts of our Professor's soundness soon vanished, and we found him, as one has said, 'not so muchbroad, asbig.'"
"He read to us a letter from a young man in much doubt as to whether he should enter the Wesleyan pulpit or no. His correspondent had read with relish Dr. Elmslie's article on Genesis. Could the Professor tell him of any books in which points of Christian faith were dealt with in an intelligent and convincing way? He, the correspondent, knew of no such books. Dr.Elmslie asked our opinion. I ventured to suggest that everybody had to hammer out these points of faith for himself. The Doctor was rather pleased with this remark, and at once said, 'Oh, yes! indeed he has, and to live them out too.'"
In his old students who had become ministers he took an earnest interest, and their letters show sufficiently how they prized him. "I feel," says one, "that you have inspired me with a something quite apart from the detailed work of the class—with spirit and enthusiasm for preaching."
He himself was soon drawn back to the pulpit, and as he preached in the various Nonconformist churches of the Metropolis it was almost immediately felt that a new force of the first rank had appeared. He preached frequently in Brixton Independent Church, then under the brilliant and devout ministry of James Baldwin Brown. Mr. Brown's health was very infirm when Dr. Elmslie began to preach there, and on his death the congregation looked to the Professor as his natural successor. Ultimately a cordial invitation was given. The inducements offered were great, and the position was among the most influential London Nonconformity can bestow. That a change of ecclesiastical relations would have been necessitated by his acceptance would have been no difficulty to Dr. Elmslie. But he feared to face the physical strain involved, and preferred to continue his work as Professor.
The disappointment felt at his declinature of the invitation to Brixton Independent Church was very deep, although the members construed his refusal in the right way, and understood that no difference of opinion on ecclesiastical polity and no doubt of theirfidelity had anything to do with it. Some of the letters written to him were very touching. Among these I may quote the following:—
"Dear Sir,—We are, with the exception of my husband (who is somewhat of an invalid), closely occupied all the week, sometimes even the strain becoming excessive. On Sundays, when you come, your teaching and influence lift us above all our difficulties, and we start for the next week full of hope, and feeling nothing too hard to be accomplished. With regard to my sons, it is an especial boon, because, though they are thoughtful and good, it has been almost impossible to get them to attend church during the last two or three years. They did not meet, perhaps, with a single service for many weeks into which they could enter with the slightest interest, so they stayed away. We have all found our Sundays very wearisome, but on those you have visited us all is changed. All are deeply interested, one competing with the other in bringing forward the ideas that have interested them." The writer goes on reluctantly to acquiesce in a declinature which had evidently gone to the heart of the whole household.
His sphere as a preacher steadily widened, and he became, in addition, a most popular platform speaker at the May meetings in Exeter Hall and elsewhere. There is no room to recount his triumphs, and no need to do so. All who heard him bore the same testimony. If he was preaching in one of the suburbs the trains towards the time of service brought a company of admirers from all parts of London. The chapel would be crowded to the doors. When he stood up in the pulpit strangers felt surprise. Youthful in appearance,unpretending in manner to the last degree, and in the early part of the service generally nervous and restrained, it was not till the sermon began that he showed his full powers. He usually read the first prayer, and was always glad if he could get some one to help him with the lessons and the giving out of hymns. But in preaching all his powers were displayed at their highest. He did not read his sermons, but his language was as abundant and felicitous as his thought, and his audience was always riveted. Alike in manner and matter he was quite original. He imitated no preacher; he did not care to listen to sermons, and was rarely much impressed by them when he did. I doubt if he ever read a volume of sermons unless it was to review them. His knowledge of the Bible and his knowledge of life gave him inexhaustible stores; he had always matter in advance, and never felt that sterility of mind which so often afflicts the preacher. He would retell the stories of the Old Testament, and make them live in the light of to-day. The reality and firmness with which he grasped life—the life of toiling, struggling, suffering men and women—was his chief power. His sympathetic imagination helped him to divine the feelings of various classes of the young men in business, for example, with a small salary, and little prospect of rising, forbidden the hope of honourable love, and tempted to baseness from without and within. He had an intense concern for the happiness of home life, and much of his preaching was an amplification of the words—
"To mak' a happy fireside climeTo weans and wife;That's the true pathos and sublimeOf human life."
"To mak' a happy fireside climeTo weans and wife;That's the true pathos and sublimeOf human life."
"To mak' a happy fireside climeTo weans and wife;That's the true pathos and sublimeOf human life."
"To mak' a happy fireside clime
To weans and wife;
That's the true pathos and sublime
Of human life."
Mothers' hearts he would win by praying for the "dearlittle children asleep in their beds at home." Young couples he would warn to keep fresh the tenderness and self-sacrifice of first love. But the sermons which follow speak for themselves, though nothing can transfer to the printed page the light and fire of which they were full as the preacher spoke them.
Of the helpfulness of his preaching he had from time to time many testimonies, of which he preserved a few. These were very welcome to him, far more so than any appreciation of the intellectual ability or the eloquence of his sermons. This, from one letter, is a specimen of many more: "I wandered past my own church in a heavy weight of business care, knowing that a mortgagee would this week likely take all I had, and caring little where I wandered when I went in to hear you, and was surprised at the text you preached from, and more so at the helpful words you spoke, which I hope, by God's grace, will enable me to see—
'Behind a frowning providenceHe hides a smiling face.'"
'Behind a frowning providenceHe hides a smiling face.'"
'Behind a frowning providenceHe hides a smiling face.'"
'Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.'"
He delivered courses of lectures to Sunday-school teachers under the auspices of the Sunday-school Union. These were very largely attended and highly appreciated. He received many letters of encouragement, among them one from the vicar of a London church, who wrote that although he could not attend them all, owing to the exacting nature of his own work, he listened to those he could be present at with the deepest attention and the greatest thankfulness. "That a great scholar should fearlessly approach these vexed questions, and with his grasp of them be able to make them popular and understood by the people, and above all attractive to the people, is to me a great joy.You make the Bible a living book, filled with people met with in workaday life. You show that the social problems which superficial minds imagine are utterly new are only old difficulties under new names, and that the Bible has a definite word to say upon them, and its 'Thus saith the Lord' is to be listened to still. I venture to think that this is the great need of this fevered age of ours, and I heartily thank you."
An attempt was made in 1888 by the Westminster Congregational Church, where he had often preached with great acceptance, to secure him as pastor. This invitation he was inclined to accept. The condition of the Theological College was not at the time satisfactory, and for that and other reasons it seemed not unlikely that the call would be closed with. To me, as to others of his friends, it seemed certain that his physical strength was wholly inadequate to the position, and I am glad to think of the urgency with which this view was pressed on him. He was reassured about the College, and gratefully declined the invitation. In connection with it he received the following letter, which reflects so much honour on all concerned that I venture to include it here:—
"London,March 8th,1888."To the Rev. Professor Elmslie, M.A., D.D.—We hear with sympathetic interest that the Westminster Church is calling you to its pastorate."The traditions of the Westminster Church are good, its ministry has always been highly spiritual and largely human, and its importance and influence have been second to none among the churches of our order in this great Metropolis."We feel special interest in this call from the fact that it will involve on your part the crossing of thedenominational boundary between Presbyterianism and Congregationalism. Identical though the churches practically are in the foundation of their theological belief, we appreciate the strain upon early and sacred association which this may involve, with, however, this compensation, that, borne in answer to a call for service and furtherance of the kingdom of Christ, it is a practical and valuable evidence that the sister denominations are truly wings in the one great army of God."Should you accept this call to the highly honourable post which the Westminster Church offers you, we beg to assure you of the cordial welcome, brotherly sympathy, and, as the occasion may arise, the friendly co-operation of the ministers of our body."It is unusual for the representatives of other churches to intervene in cases of this kind, but understanding there may be questions in your mind as to the feelings with which you would be received into the ranks of the Congregational ministry, we have thought it right, on the suggestion of a representative of the Westminster Church, to give you this assurance."With best wishes for your future welfare and highest prosperity,"Yours fraternally,"Alexander Hannay,"Henry Allon,"J. C. Harrison,"J. Guinness Rogers,"Andrew Mearns,"Samuel Newth,"Joseph Parker,"Robert F. Horton,"John Kennedy,"John Fredk. Stevenson,"R. Vaughan Pryce,"Alfred Cave,"John Stoughton,"Henry Robert Reynolds."
"London,March 8th,1888.
"London,March 8th,1888.
"To the Rev. Professor Elmslie, M.A., D.D.—We hear with sympathetic interest that the Westminster Church is calling you to its pastorate.
"The traditions of the Westminster Church are good, its ministry has always been highly spiritual and largely human, and its importance and influence have been second to none among the churches of our order in this great Metropolis.
"We feel special interest in this call from the fact that it will involve on your part the crossing of thedenominational boundary between Presbyterianism and Congregationalism. Identical though the churches practically are in the foundation of their theological belief, we appreciate the strain upon early and sacred association which this may involve, with, however, this compensation, that, borne in answer to a call for service and furtherance of the kingdom of Christ, it is a practical and valuable evidence that the sister denominations are truly wings in the one great army of God.
"Should you accept this call to the highly honourable post which the Westminster Church offers you, we beg to assure you of the cordial welcome, brotherly sympathy, and, as the occasion may arise, the friendly co-operation of the ministers of our body.
"It is unusual for the representatives of other churches to intervene in cases of this kind, but understanding there may be questions in your mind as to the feelings with which you would be received into the ranks of the Congregational ministry, we have thought it right, on the suggestion of a representative of the Westminster Church, to give you this assurance.
"With best wishes for your future welfare and highest prosperity,
"Yours fraternally,"Alexander Hannay,"Henry Allon,"J. C. Harrison,"J. Guinness Rogers,"Andrew Mearns,"Samuel Newth,"Joseph Parker,"Robert F. Horton,"John Kennedy,"John Fredk. Stevenson,"R. Vaughan Pryce,"Alfred Cave,"John Stoughton,"Henry Robert Reynolds."
It is unnecessary to refer in detail to the numerous invitations to Presbyterian pulpits which reached himfrom time to time. Some of these were from Scotland, on which he looked back with mingled feelings. He did not willingly turn his face to the north, or think of it with much pleasure. "I worked too hard there," he would say. On the other hand, he writes from Edinburgh in 1880—"I had a splendid talk, fit to be printed, with Taylor Innes, Davidson, and Iverach. I think I might become a great divine with such stimulating society."
Elmslie's connection with the Congregationalists not only greatly heightened his estimate of the loyalty and piety still abiding in the Nonconformist churches of England; it also brought him more fully into the current of modern life. He began to be deeply interested in politics, which he had previously rather held aloof from, became a diligent reader of newspapers, and was led to an absorbing interest in Socialism, on which he delivered a memorable address in Exeter Hall in connection with the Pan-Presbyterian Council of 1888. In politics he was an ardent Liberal and a thoroughgoing Home Ruler.
Dr. Elmslie added to his other engagements some of a literary kind. He became adviser to the firm of Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton, of 27, Paternoster Row, and occupied this position for a few years with great satisfaction on both sides. His work was to write estimates of any manuscripts Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton submitted for his consideration, and that he did it incisively and honestly the following specimen, selected almost at random, will show:—
"Energetic, intelligent, earnest discourses on the lines of the old Evangelical Protestant school, not in any way original in exposition or fresh in presentation, butquite sensible, vigorous, and good. That they are not up to date appears in such a reference as this: 'The excitement caused in this country by the publication of "Essays and Reviews," and subsequently of Bishop Colenso's heretical works, is still fresh in our memories,' etc. Even if thoroughly rubbed up and revised, the sermons would only sell where writer's name would carry them, and to some extent to preachers in search of ready-made discourses."
He ceased to act in this capacity some time before his death, but continued to be a constant visitor to No. 27, where his appearance gave pleasure to every one in the place. His inaugural lecture on Ernest Renan was published in the excellent "Present-day Tracts" of the Religious Tract Society, and was very well received. He had often heard Renan lecture, and was thoroughly conversant with his books. To theExpositorhe made some contributions, but in spite of pressure, delayed publishing extended articles. InGood Wordsand theSunday Magazinesome of his sermons were published from time to time. To theBritish Weeklyhe was a large contributor, mostly of short anonymous reviews and paragraphs; occasionally he would write an extended critique or a travel sketch. But he was making ready for work as an author. A remark made by Dr. Marcus Dods had sunk into his mind; it was to the effect that men should study till they were forty, and then publish the result of their studies. He had arranged to begin writing and to give up preaching, and had he lived this purpose would have been carried out. His schemes were numerous, but the chief was to write a book which should make the Old Testament intelligible—its contents and message—to the common people. He had made a careful study of the MinorProphets, the result of which will shortly appear in a popular commentary.
So his life went on, useful, happy, honoured, and but too busy. In 1888 he received the degree of Doctor of Divinity from his Alma Mater. In the same year he preached the opening sermon at the Nottingham meeting of the Congregational Union. This high honour was never before conferred on a Presbyterian minister. He enjoyed social intercourse, and in recent years had much of it. He had many pleasant Continental holidays. But the claims upon him constantly increased, and alas! his strength did not. He had the happiness of being under the care of an accomplished and skilful physician, who was also an intimate friend—Dr. Montague Murray. I need not speak of the faithful care that never ceased its vigilance. But although often warned against overwork, and constantly paying the penalty in severe headaches, no serious danger was apprehended. I am anxious to make it clear that he did not wilfully throw his life away. He apprehended no danger, and thought he was taking sufficient precautions. The last summer of his life he took two Continental holidays. He loved life. His last years were his best—the brightest and the fullest of influence. If one had been asked to say who among his friends had the prospect of the surest happiness and the greatest influence, he would have named Elmslie without hesitation. It was in such a noon that his sun went down.
He spent September 1889 in the Engadine. Although he enjoyed the trip he benefited from it less than he had hoped, and began the work of his classes with a certain feeling of weariness. He did not, however,imagine that anything was seriously wrong, and accepted many engagements for the winter. He preached with wonderful eloquence to crowded audiences in St. John's Wood Presbyterian Church on the Sunday evenings of October, and had promised to take anniversary services on Sunday, November 3rd, for the Rev. John Watson, M.A., of Sefton Park Church, Liverpool. Although unable to go to College on the previous Friday, he was anxious not to disappoint his friend, and accordingly went to Liverpool. His medical adviser reluctantly allowed him to preach once. He officiated at the forenoon service, getting help from one of his students in the service. That afternoon he spent in bed, and he was too unwell to return to London till Wednesday. Dr. Murray saw he was seriously ill, and ordered that all his engagements should be postponed. On Thursday, however, he lectured at the College, but on Friday he was prostrated, and remained so till Tuesday, when unconsciousness set in. He suffered from agonizing headache. Symptoms of diphtheritic sore throat set in on Sunday, November 10th. On Tuesday the medical man in attendance pronounced the disease to be typhoid fever, and after the evening of that day he was never conscious. His busy brain worked on. The faithful friend and physician, who hardly left his side, says he never heard such intelligent unconscious talk. If his mind travelled to the scene of his recent journeys he would give directions in German about ordering rooms, arranging for dinner and the like, with perfect clearness. More often he would fancy himself in his class-room teaching Hebrew, and urging the students to put heart into their work. Over and over he spoke to his wife of what had been the master thought of his life. Lifting his hand he would say with greatearnestness, "No man can deny that I always preached the love of God. That was right. I am glad I did not puzzle poor sorrowful humanity with abstruse doctrines, but always tried to win them to Christ by preaching a God of Love." Once he turned to her with wistful eyes and said, "Kate, God is Love. All Love. We will tell every one that, but specially our own boy—at least you will, for I seem to be so tired these days, and my one wonder and trouble is, that all these people (meaning the nurses) try to prevent me from going home, where we were always so happy." He was reassured for the moment, when some familiar object was pointed out, and asked that he should often be told that he was at home. He was soon to go home indeed. He recognised his wife on Friday, with the last signs of consciousness. Shortly after he became faint, closed his eyes, and never opened them again on earth. About four o'clock on the morning of November 16th, 1889, he quietly passed away.
Scarcely any death could have made a greater rent than this, and the tokens of sorrow—public and private—were almost unexampled in the case of one who held no high office in Church or State, who had not lived long enough to make his mark in literature, who had sought no fame or honour, but had been content with doing his duty as it called him day by day. The funeral service was conducted in Marylebone Presbyterian Church (Dr. Donald Fraser's), of which he was a member. Dr. Fraser and Dr. Allon delivered addresses, while Dr. Dykes and Dr. Monro Gibson offered up prayer. The great church was crowded with a deeply moved audience of two thousand persons, every one of whom probably represented some wordspoken or some service rendered by the kind heart then cold. He was buried at Liverpool next day by the side of his mother, his attached friend and colleague the Rev. Dr. Gibb, being among those present at the interment. A service was conducted at the Presbyterian College, where Principal Dykes delivered a deeply moving address. "You may send us another Hebrew Professor," said he, "and we shall welcome him, but you cannot send us another Elmslie."
Tributes from the Presbyteries of the Church, from congregations of various denominations to which he had ministered, from well-known Church leaders, from old students, and, not least, from unknown men and women whom he had helped and comforted, poured in. They were too numerous to be quoted or further referred to, but the intensity and turmoil of feeling expressed in them, showed that the sorrow for him was as deep as its appointed signs were extensive. One for whom much sympathy was felt, his aged father, seemed to bear up bravely against the blow. He received with eager gratitude the abundant testimonies to the honour and love in which his son was held. But the grief had gone to his heart, he soon began to sink, and died a few months later.
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 whateverloving-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 theChristian 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 mostadmired 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 ofthe 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 withoutother 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,
Now the candid face is hid,The frank, sweet tongue has ceased to move,
Now the candid face is hid,The frank, sweet tongue has ceased to move,
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.
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 ofthe 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."
From the Rev. Professor Marcus Dods, D.D.
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 ofthe 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."
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 irresistiblebonhommie, 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 themanmade 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 thepièce de resistancewas 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 awalking 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 wasthat what people needed most wascomfort. 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 havebeenit. 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."
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 irresistiblebonhommie, 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 themanmade 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 thepièce de resistancewas 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 awalking 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 wasthat what people needed most wascomfort. 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 havebeenit. 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."
"Yours very sincerely,
"Henry Drummond.
"Brindisi,March 17th, 1890."
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 hissarcasm 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 railwaymission, 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."
From the Rev. John Smith, M.A.
"Broughton Place United Presbyterian Church,"Edinburgh.
"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 hissarcasm 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 railwaymission, 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."
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 puttogether. 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."It was here that Elmslie first unfolded his marvellous powers as a speaker. At the University I had been a member of the Dialectic, where there were one or two fine speakers. One of them was more fluent and agreeable to listen to than any one I have ever heard since; another—long ago, alas! gone over to the majority—spoke with a freer play of mere intellectual force than even Elmslie possessed. But I had never before, and have never since, heard speaking which, taken all in all, quite came up to that to which Elmslie treated us Friday after Friday. The combination of powers was the marvel of it—the knowledge, the clearness of exposition, the fecundity of ideas, the telling force with which he put his points, the play of fancy, the exuberant wit and humour, the tenderness and pathos into which he could glide for a moment if it invited him; there was no resource which he had not at perfect command. Yet it was entirely without display; he was always perfectly natural and familiar. He never won a triumph which humiliated any one; and, whilst others by expounding the same free views excited bitter feelings of opposition, he had the gift of saying the most revolutionary things in such a waythat no one was hurt; his weapon, though it cut deep, having the marvellous property of diffusing an anæsthetic on the wound it made."If it is necessary to throw some shade into a picture so bright, I should say that in those days his speaking had one defect: while he had always complete mastery of his subject, he rarely made the impression that the subject had complete mastery of him. He could play with it so easily, and he could play so easily with his audience, that, as part of the audience, you felt that you were not quite sure whether he was giving you all his mind or only as much of it as he considered good for you. He had not yet been gripped so tightly by the realities of life as he was later, when his sense of the wrong and misery of the world transformed his eloquence into an irresistible stream of passion and made him the most earnest and whole-hearted of comforters. As yet the bantering, laughing element was in excess; and he did not always remember where to draw the line in theabandonof animal spirits. I used to wonder how it would do when he was settled as the moderator of a session of 'douce' Scotch elders."But to us at the time it was splendid. It was in one of our sessions that Dr. Blaikie founded the College dinner, which has since proved so valuable an institution, bringing all the students together daily in a social capacity; and any day you could have told where Elmslie was seated at the table by the explosions of laughter rising in that quarter all through the meal. Men strove to sit near him, and he diffused a glow up and down, his budget of stories never getting exhausted or his flow of spirits flagging. I well remember a speech he made at the close of the first session duringwhich the dinner existed, to thank Professor Blaikie for his efforts on behalf of the students and congratulate him on the success of his experiment. It was, perhaps, the most remarkable of all Elmslie's speeches. Professors and students alike were simply convulsed with laughter, and one explosion followed another, till the assembly was literally dissolved; yet under all the nonsense there was capital sense, and the duty which he had undertaken could not have been more gracefully or completely discharged."On the serious side of college life he was equally a leader. His enormous influence over his fellow-students was uniformly pure and elevating; and in confidential hours, when conversation went down to the depths of experience, it was easy to see that his life, which was so gay and exuberant on the surface, was deeply rooted in loyalty to Christ. He threw himself heartily into the work of the Missionary Society in the Cowgate and the High Street. We began one winter to speak in the open air, but none of us were successful till we brought down Murray, who afterwards also went to the English Presbyterian Church and finished his career even sooner than Elmslie. Murray was no scholar, but in ten minutes he had a crowd round him extending halfway across the street, while we could never attract more than forty or fifty. It was a lesson which we often afterwards discussed with no small astonishment."I remember an incident of the Mission which Elmslie used to tell with great gusto. He was addressing the Children's Church on the story of Samson and the lion, when, observing that the children were not attending, he, instead of saying that the lion roared, emitted as near an approach to the roar itself as he could command. Instantly there was breathless attention; and when,after pausing long enough to allow for the full effect, he was about to proceed, a little girl cried out anxiously, 'O sir, do it again!' On another occasion he stopped to reprove rather sharply a boy who was very restless, when a companion, springing up, told him with great solemnity that he ought not to speak so to this boy, because he was deaf and dumb. Taken completely aback, Elmslie began humbly to apologise, when the whole class burst out into a shout of laughter at the skill with which he had been taken in. The boy could both hear and speak."After he went south I saw him very seldom. Once he caught me in London and took me out to preach at Willesden, where I was immensely impressed with his hold on the people and the extent of the field of influence he had opened up. Like his other friends, I was very impatient for some literary production worthy of his genius, and, when the brilliant tract on Renan appeared, I took the liberty of writing him urgently on the subject. It was always my hope that before very long we should be able to entice him back across the Border, to adorn a chair in one of our colleges. I did not hear of his illness till you wrote me that he was just dying. 'God moves in a mysterious way.' I have no hesitation in saying that Elmslie was by far the most brilliant man I have ever known, and there was never a human being more lovable. He seemed to be the man we needed most; but it is little we know; the Master must have had need of him elsewhere."Believe me yours most truly,"James Stalker."
"6 Clairmont Gardens, Glasgow"March 24th,1890.
"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 puttogether. 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.
"It was here that Elmslie first unfolded his marvellous powers as a speaker. At the University I had been a member of the Dialectic, where there were one or two fine speakers. One of them was more fluent and agreeable to listen to than any one I have ever heard since; another—long ago, alas! gone over to the majority—spoke with a freer play of mere intellectual force than even Elmslie possessed. But I had never before, and have never since, heard speaking which, taken all in all, quite came up to that to which Elmslie treated us Friday after Friday. The combination of powers was the marvel of it—the knowledge, the clearness of exposition, the fecundity of ideas, the telling force with which he put his points, the play of fancy, the exuberant wit and humour, the tenderness and pathos into which he could glide for a moment if it invited him; there was no resource which he had not at perfect command. Yet it was entirely without display; he was always perfectly natural and familiar. He never won a triumph which humiliated any one; and, whilst others by expounding the same free views excited bitter feelings of opposition, he had the gift of saying the most revolutionary things in such a waythat no one was hurt; his weapon, though it cut deep, having the marvellous property of diffusing an anæsthetic on the wound it made.
"If it is necessary to throw some shade into a picture so bright, I should say that in those days his speaking had one defect: while he had always complete mastery of his subject, he rarely made the impression that the subject had complete mastery of him. He could play with it so easily, and he could play so easily with his audience, that, as part of the audience, you felt that you were not quite sure whether he was giving you all his mind or only as much of it as he considered good for you. He had not yet been gripped so tightly by the realities of life as he was later, when his sense of the wrong and misery of the world transformed his eloquence into an irresistible stream of passion and made him the most earnest and whole-hearted of comforters. As yet the bantering, laughing element was in excess; and he did not always remember where to draw the line in theabandonof animal spirits. I used to wonder how it would do when he was settled as the moderator of a session of 'douce' Scotch elders.
"But to us at the time it was splendid. It was in one of our sessions that Dr. Blaikie founded the College dinner, which has since proved so valuable an institution, bringing all the students together daily in a social capacity; and any day you could have told where Elmslie was seated at the table by the explosions of laughter rising in that quarter all through the meal. Men strove to sit near him, and he diffused a glow up and down, his budget of stories never getting exhausted or his flow of spirits flagging. I well remember a speech he made at the close of the first session duringwhich the dinner existed, to thank Professor Blaikie for his efforts on behalf of the students and congratulate him on the success of his experiment. It was, perhaps, the most remarkable of all Elmslie's speeches. Professors and students alike were simply convulsed with laughter, and one explosion followed another, till the assembly was literally dissolved; yet under all the nonsense there was capital sense, and the duty which he had undertaken could not have been more gracefully or completely discharged.
"On the serious side of college life he was equally a leader. His enormous influence over his fellow-students was uniformly pure and elevating; and in confidential hours, when conversation went down to the depths of experience, it was easy to see that his life, which was so gay and exuberant on the surface, was deeply rooted in loyalty to Christ. He threw himself heartily into the work of the Missionary Society in the Cowgate and the High Street. We began one winter to speak in the open air, but none of us were successful till we brought down Murray, who afterwards also went to the English Presbyterian Church and finished his career even sooner than Elmslie. Murray was no scholar, but in ten minutes he had a crowd round him extending halfway across the street, while we could never attract more than forty or fifty. It was a lesson which we often afterwards discussed with no small astonishment.
"I remember an incident of the Mission which Elmslie used to tell with great gusto. He was addressing the Children's Church on the story of Samson and the lion, when, observing that the children were not attending, he, instead of saying that the lion roared, emitted as near an approach to the roar itself as he could command. Instantly there was breathless attention; and when,after pausing long enough to allow for the full effect, he was about to proceed, a little girl cried out anxiously, 'O sir, do it again!' On another occasion he stopped to reprove rather sharply a boy who was very restless, when a companion, springing up, told him with great solemnity that he ought not to speak so to this boy, because he was deaf and dumb. Taken completely aback, Elmslie began humbly to apologise, when the whole class burst out into a shout of laughter at the skill with which he had been taken in. The boy could both hear and speak.
"After he went south I saw him very seldom. Once he caught me in London and took me out to preach at Willesden, where I was immensely impressed with his hold on the people and the extent of the field of influence he had opened up. Like his other friends, I was very impatient for some literary production worthy of his genius, and, when the brilliant tract on Renan appeared, I took the liberty of writing him urgently on the subject. It was always my hope that before very long we should be able to entice him back across the Border, to adorn a chair in one of our colleges. I did not hear of his illness till you wrote me that he was just dying. 'God moves in a mysterious way.' I have no hesitation in saying that Elmslie was by far the most brilliant man I have ever known, and there was never a human being more lovable. He seemed to be the man we needed most; but it is little we know; the Master must have had need of him elsewhere.
"Believe me yours most truly,"James Stalker."
"Believe me yours most truly,
"James Stalker."