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Title: The story of Dr. Duff
Author: A. L. O. E.
Release date: June 22, 2025 [eBook #76355]
Language: English
Original publication: Madras: The Christian Vernacular Education Society, 1882
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF DR. DUFF ***
Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
public domain.
THE STORY OF DR. DUFF
BY
A. L. O. E.
—————————————————
FIRST EDITION, 2,000 COPIES.
—————————————————
[Illustration]
MADRAS:
THE CHRISTIAN VERNACULAR EDUCATION SOCIETY.
C. K. S. PRESS, VEPERY.
————
1882.
1 _Anna._
CONTENTS.
——————
_Chap._
I. BOYHOOD AND YOUTH.
II. TAKING UP THE CLOAK.
III. PERILS OF THE DEEP.
IV. LANDED AT LAST.
V. BEGINNING WORK.
VI. FIRST-FRUITS.
VII. THE KOOLIN BRAHMIN.
VIII. A CONVERT'S STORY.
IX. DRIVEN HOME.
X. TUMULTS AND THREATS.
XI. GLIMPSES OF INNER LIFE.
XII. A HOLIDAY WITHOUT REST.
XIII. IN INDIA AGAIN.
XIV. GOLDEN SUNSET.
THE STORY OF DR. DUFF
BY
A. L. O. E.
——————
CHAPTER I.
BOYHOOD AND YOUTH.
Listen to the story of a man who loved Hindustan, and laboured night
and day for the good of her sons. His was a life of toils and dangers,
of cheerful work and brilliant success. In the list of heroes who have
dared, and of gifted men who have done much, Dr. Duff may well find an
honourable place.
In a farm-house near the middle of the land of Scotland, lived a pious
couple of the name of Duff: to them was born a son whom they called
Alexander. The couple were not rich in worldly wealth, but they had
that which is better than gold, the fear and love of God. As their
child grew old enough to understand stories, his father delighted to
tell him of holy men of old, of martyrs who had died for the faith.
He spoke to his little son also of lands far away, where dwelt boys
who had never even heard of a Saviour. Alexander Duff lived to be
a renowned man, honoured by nations, but he always remembered with
reverence the pious father who had first, in a humble home, sown in his
heart the seed which was to become a goodly tree.
In his boyhood young Duff had two remarkable dreams. Once he dreamed
that the great day of judgment had come. He beheld the holy and
terrible judge seated on great white throne, and millions upon millions
of human beings appearing before him, to receive their final sentence.
Some were condemned to everlasting punishment, some were granted
eternal life. The heart of the dreamer was filled with terror. Little
Duff knew not what his own fate might be, whether he would be sent to
Heaven or Hell. The boy shook on his bed with terror, and when his turn
for judgment came, trembling with fear awoke. Never was that solemn
dream forgotten. It was as a voice from Heaven crying, "Repent ye, the
Day of Judgment is at hand; prepare to meet your God!"
The other dream was less painful, but scarcely less striking than this.
The Scotch boy lay by the banks of a stream, and there he fell asleep.
He dreamed that he saw in the distance a light more bright than the
sun. Presently from the midst of the great light came a magnificent
chariot of gold, adorned with jewels, drawn by fiery horses. The
exceeding glory on which he gazed filled the boy's soul with awe. The
heavenly Chariot reached his side, and from it came a gentle voice
which was not the voice of man, "Come up hither, I have work for thee
to do." In trying to arise to obey the divine call the young dreamer
awoke.
Alexander Duff told the dream to his parents, and many many years
afterwards he told it again to his grandson, so deep was the impression
which it had left on his mind. That dream was as a voice from heaven,
"There is holy work, Oh! child, for thee to do in the future. The world
is a great corn-field, God gives to thee a sickle, and bids thee go
forth and reap."
Duff had not only dreams in boyhood, but he had also deliverances from
danger to remember in after years. Once when he was lifting water out
of a rushing stream, he fell in and was nearly drowned. At another time
he and a companion lost their way at night in a dangerous place where
there were deep bogs, and a lake into which had the wanderers fallen,
they would have almost certainly perished. Bitter was the cold, and
deep was the darkness. The poor boys struggled on and on, dreading
to slip down some unseen precipice, or to fall into some deep water.
They tried to cheer each other, but their voices grew faint, their
strength was failing, they were obliged to sit down to rest. Then the
poor children cried to God to save them. Suddenly, as if in answer
to prayer, a bright light flashed before them. It disappeared almost
instantly, but the gleam was enough. The boys sprung up from the snowy
ground on which they were in danger of being frozen to death, ran
forward, and stumbled against a garden wall. The light had been but the
flare of a torch used by some men in night fishing, but it had been
the means of drawing the boys towards a cottage where their shivering
bodies were warmed and fed. From that cottage they could be safely
guided to the home of Duff's father. Often, when he was a man, did Duff
in times of trial and danger remember that sudden flash of light. He
thought that the God who had sent it to guide the wandering lost boy,
would never leave or forsake the afflicted man who cried to him in the
darkness.
Duff went to school in the town of Perth, and was so diligent in his
studies, that when he left Perth at the age of fifteen, he was the
head scholar. He then studied at St. Andrew's college, and carried off
prize after prize. Duff was strong in body and strong in mind, and
of a brave and cheerful spirit. If he wrote an essay, people read it
with admiration; if he made a speech, they listened with delight. He
had unusual power to convince and persuade. There was an earnestness
in the youth, which united with remarkable talent made his influence
great, but we have no reason to think that this rendered him vain. As
a friend, Duff was obliging and kind; as a companion, pleasant and
cheerful.
On Sundays he gathered children around him to teach them such holy
lessons as he himself had learned from his father. Duff was full of
mirth, but he suffered no impure jest or oath to fall from his lips.
The holy spirit of God had shed life into the young man's heart, and
it was shown in his words and actions, as we may trace the course of
a stream which we do not see by the bright verdure, the flowers, and
fruits which grow on its banks.
Thus Duff's course as a college student was one of activity,
cheerfulness and success. Can we doubt that his life in Scotland was a
happy one? Dearly did he love his country, his family and his friends,
and with such talents as his, he was likely to rise in the world. Why
should Duff ever leave his beautiful country and those to whom he was
dear? Yet Duff did leave all with a willing heart, he exchanged his
pleasant studies for hard and toilsome work, he went thousands of miles
from his father's home to dwell amongst strangers. Why he did this you
will see in the following Chapter.
————————
CHAPTER II.
TAKING UP THE CLOAK.
Amongst the friends of Duff there was one to him especially dear; this
young man's name was John Urquhart. Theirs was a love to last unto
death, and even after death, for its strength was this: that both the
friends adored the same Lord, both delighted in His service, and both
looked forward to dwelling together in a bright home beyond the grave.
Often when Duff went in holiday time to his parents' house, he talked
to them much about John Urquhart. He told how one day Urquhart,
addressing his follow-students, had told them that he was going to
devote himself to Missionary work, and charged every one of his
companions to think seriously over the subject of spreading the Gospel
in heathen lands. The name of John Urquhart had grown quite familiar to
the parents of Alexander Duff, from the accounts of him given to them
by their son, as he sat and talked with them by the cheerful fire-light
in their home amidst the Grampian Hills.
Perhaps Duff's mother sometimes thought, "I am glad that it is Urquhart
and not my Aleck who is going so far away. My clever son will be a
pastor and dwell near us, and I shall hear him when he stands in the
pulpit, preaching the Word with that eloquence which every one praises!
I shall watch his success, oh! with what gladness and pride! I wonder
if Urquhart has a mother, and, if so, how she can bear to part with
such a son! I am thankful that my Aleck is not to be a Missionary like
his friend."
A time arrived when Alexander Duff came home for his winter vacation
with a sad heart and a burdened mind. His parents welcomed him, as
usual, with tender love, and he brightened up to cheer them; nothing
seems to have passed at first to awaken his mother's fears. Doubtless
she spread the table with the nice bannocks of barley meal which she
had prepared with her own hands, and stirred the fire to a brighter
blaze, and fondly gazed on the face of her son, now a fine young man in
the prime of his strength. Duff sat and talked of many things, for when
he returned from college he had always much to tell, and he related
stories with such spirit, that it was ever a pleasure to listen. But
it surprised Duff's parents that he did not so much as mention John
Urquhart, the favourite friend who used to be a principal theme of his
talk.
"What of your friend Urquhart?" at last exclaimed the father.
A change came over the face of Duff. Doubtless his heart beat faster,
not only because his father's word had touched a wound, but because the
moment had come for him to say something which he too well knew would
give his dear hearers pain.
"Urquhart is no more!" cried Duff, thus suddenly announcing the death
of the youth who had devoted himself to Missionary work, but who had
been summoned early to his rest before he could enter on such labours.
Then, gathering courage to say what he felt must be said, Duff slowly
and wistfully added, perhaps glancing at his poor fond mother, "What if
your son should take up his cloak?" By which he meant, should take up
his Mission work and go out to India in his place. "You approved the
motive that directed the choice of Urquhart, you commended his high
purpose." Then Duff added the words which announced his own dedication
to the cause, words which must have thrilled to his parents' souls,
"'The cloak is taken up.'"
The father and mother were at first too much startled to speak. We are
not told what followed. The parents were pious indeed, but they may
have felt somewhat as holy Abraham felt when called on by God to offer
up the only son whom he loved. We do not know whether the mother threw
her arms round the neck of her son and wept, or if the father's face
betrayed an inward struggle. We only know that both parents consented
at last to part with their hope and pride, never perhaps in this world
to behold his dear face again. They would not hinder him from obeying
the call of his God, heard in his childhood's dream,—"Come up hither, I
have work for thee to do."
And what was this work taken up by Duff, as a legacy from his friend, a
work for which he was ready to leave and to suffer all?
Ere the Lord Jesus left earth He gave a last charge to his disciples,
"Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature."
In the command followed a promise, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto
the end."
Obeying that command, and resting on that promise, from the earliest
ages Christians have gone forth to give glad tidings of salvation to
other nations. Men, aye and women, have cheerfully left country and
home to say to those thirsting for eternal life,—
"'Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters!' We have found
the Fountain of life, and we bid you also come and drink. Oh! Weary
and heavy-laden with the burden of sin, come to Him who has taken away
'our sin.' Christ has opened the door of heaven to us, and we would not
enter alone. Come dear brothers—sisters, come Hindu, Mahomedan, Sikh,
come all ye children of men, share with us the inheritance of glory,
share with us the Kingdom of Heaven!"
What Duff thought of a Missionary's calling may be shown from his own
words. A Missionary Committee had offered to send him out to labour in
Calcutta, and after much prayer and searching of heart he was able to
write thus:—
"I am now prepared to reply to the Committee in the words of the
prophet, 'here am I, send me.' The work is most arduous, but is of
God and must prosper. Many sacrifices painful to flesh and blood must
be made, but not any correspondent to the glory of winning souls to
Christ. With the thought of this glory I feel myself almost transported
with joy; everything else appears to fall out of view as vain and
insignificant."
Mr. Duff was now ordained as a clergyman, and before he departed for
India, preached missionary sermons and gave discourses which came with
much force from one who was offering himself up, body and soul, for the
cause for which he pleaded. In one church, with tears gushing from his
eyes, thus the young missionary spoke:—
"There was a time when I had no care or concern for the heathen, that
was a time when I had no care or concern for my own soul. When, by the
grace of God, I was led to care for my own soul, then it was that began
to care for the heathen abroad. In my closet, on my bended knees, I
then said to God, 'Oh! Lord! Thou knowest that silver and gold to give
to this cause I have none; what I have I give unto Thee; I offer Thee
myself, will Thou accept the gift?"
Duff tried to comfort and cheer his parents. He prayed his dear mother
not to make an idol of her son. He wrote lovingly to his father,—
"Will you be a loser by so giving me up to the Lord, and so praising
Him for His goodness in having called me to so mighty a work? No, God
will bless you with the blessing of Abraham, will enrich you with his
faith and reward, and will reward you a thousand fold for your willing
resignation and cheerful readiness in obeying God's command. The Lord
bless you and my dear mother!"
And so Alexander Duff prepared to go forth to a strange land, and a
people whose language he knew not, believing it to be likely that he
never would return again to his dearly loved Scotland.
————————
CHAPTER III.
PERILS OF THE DEEP.
Mr. Duff did not go forth alone; he was given a faithful partner in
all his joys and sorrows, a gentle helper in his work. Just before
the young missionary was ordained, he married the pious Miss Anne
Scott Drysdale, who for many years proved to him one of God's richest
blessings.
In the month of October 1829, in a ship called the "Lady Holland,"
the young couple embarked for India. They knew not the sufferings
and dangers that lay before them ere they should reach Calcutta, but
"farewell" is a bitter word, and it was doubtless with heavy hearts and
tear-dimmed eyes that some of the travellers saw the shores of their
native isle recede in the distance behind them.
Very rough weather was encountered by the "Lady Holland." Day after day
there was a succession of gales. Many inhabitants of India have never
seen the sea, the "black water" as they call it. Let them imagine what
it must be when nothing is to be seen around but furious waves, with a
strong sky above, and how one must feel when tossed on the surface of
the water. The ship plunges like a terrified horse, now borne aloft on
the top of a huge billow, then swept down into what looks like a watery
grave from which she may never arise. There is violent motion which
allows not a minute of rest; were it not for little wooden fences made
on purpose, the dishes would roll over from the tables, the sick would
fall out from the beds! Many of the passengers are lying in a grievous
state of exhaustion. The violent shaking, plunging, and rolling, make
them feel as if taken with deadly sickness, they can neither rise nor
eat till the fury of the gale be spent.
[Illustration]
Week after week the rough weather continued, and the ship was detained
by various causes, so that it was not till at least four long months
had passed that the "Lady Holland" had nearly reached the Cape of
Good Hope, the half way station on the way to Calcutta. How glad the
storm-tost passengers must have been at the thought of being, though
but for a short time, on firm solid ground, and able to look on green
trees once more! But the ship was never to reach the port, a time of
terrible danger was near.
On the 13th of February, at the dead hour of night, when lamps had been
put out, and most of the passengers had gone to rest in their cabins,
at that time the accident occurred. Those who had closed their eyes
in sleep were suddenly awakened by a violent shock, which almost made
their hearts stand still with fear! What could have happened to the
ship! The frightened passengers sprang from their cots, they rushed on
deck, wrapped in blankets, sheets, or whatever was near, only to find
their worst fears realised. The vessel had struck with violence on a
sandbank, her back was broken, she must ere long go to pieces! The wild
foaming waves were sweeping over her like hungry tigers eager to devour
their prey.
Mr. Duff had been half undressed when the shock took place. He too
ran up on deck, where he met the captain of the "Lady Holland," who
exclaimed in agony—
"Oh! She's gone! She's gone!"
It would be difficult to describe the scene which followed on that
awful night of the shipwreck, so as to bring it before the minds of
those who have never been in a storm at sea. Passengers were on the
deck, terror depicted on their faces, as far as they could be seen in
the dim light, they could neither stand nor sit without clinging to
some object near. All felt as if death were near, and after death the
judgment!
One voice, that of an officer, was heard to utter the bitter cry, "What
will become of me, I have been such a hypocrite!"
The wretched man knew not how to face the Judge of quick and dead
before whom he might so shortly be summoned to appear.
A few of the passengers were God-fearing people, and they even at such
an hour, were calm. Duff was one of these for whom death had lost its
worst terrors, he knew that God ruled the storm, and that the way
to Heaven was as short from a foaming sea as from the most peaceful
deathbed.
The missionary's clear voice was heard over the dashing of the waters
and the roar of the wind. Duff called out that as all might suddenly
be summoned together to give their final account, they had better join
in prayer as best they could for deliverance, if such were God's holy
will, or if not, for preparedness to meet Him. All passengers clustered
around the missionary, holding on so as not to be swept off the deck
by the waves, whilst the man of God poured forth his soul in earnest
supplications. Oh! What a never to be forgotten prayer meeting was that
in darkness and danger, on the billow-swept deck of the wreck!
Meanwhile the captain and crew were doing all that they could to launch
the longboat which might afford a means of escape from a sinking
vessel. The task was one of extreme difficulty; the sea was a mass of
foam gleaming white through the darkness now dimly lighted up by the
moon. At last, the work was accomplished,—the longboat was heaving up
and down on the waters near enough to the ship for the terrified people
on the deck to get in. But it could not hold more than one third of
those on board the doomed vessel.
No doubt the quiet prayer had calmed the spirits of those who had
joined in it, for now a very striking display of unselfish Christian
love was shown. Unmarried men said to those who were married, "You go
with your wives, you are two, we are only one." The wives had declared
that they would not go without their husbands.
But none of those on deck were to be lost. Through God's mercy the wind
abated; the little island of Dossen, like a place of refuge, was near.
The longboat with another smaller boat were able to make three trips,
and so at last each one of the shivering, dripping passengers and crew
was landed safe on the desolate isle.
Soon after the last trip had been made, the longed-for daylight
appeared. Before dawn there was no means of knowing whether the place
was inhabited. Dreary enough was the scene revealed by the opening day.
The island was merely a haunt of sea-birds, and the only persons to be
found on it were two men employed to collect their eggs. But the sight
of these two Dutchmen was welcome to the poor desolate shipwrecked
sufferers who had lost their all, especially as the strangers possessed
a cooking-pot, under such circumstances a valuable acquisition indeed.
The poor passengers and sailors dispersed, some to collect eggs, some
to collect grass and seaweed with which to feed a fire; others remained
beside the pot constantly employed in boiling sea-birds' eggs, as that
was their only food.
No doubt, Mr. Duff thought of the shipwreck of the great missionary,
St. Paul, saved like himself, from a watery grave, and cast, like
himself, desolate upon an island. But what gratitude must have filled
his soul when he looked on his beloved wife, preserved to him through
all that night of terrible danger! They had indeed lost their worldly
all, their clothes save what they actually wore, their property, money,
and books, wedding-gifts and parting keepsakes; all was lost to them
but each other, and their calm firm trust in God; shipwrecked and
stript of every earthly possession they were still rich in faith, and
each happy in the love of the other.
A sailor is seen advancing eagerly towards them. What is it that he
holds in his hand? Something which the waves have washed ashore from
the wreck.
What is the Missionary's surprise and delighted wonder when he
recognises "his own Bible" and an old Scotch psalm-book, somewhat
shattered indeed, but received with adoring gratitude as a gift from
the Lord! Would a bag of gold or a bracelet of costly diamonds have
been such a welcome treasure!
All the shipwrecked people were deeply affected by what they regarded
as a message from God. They knelt down on the white sand, whilst Dr.
Duff held a touching service. The Missionary read the 107th Psalm,
so suitable for these who had cried unto the Lord in their trouble,
and been delivered from their distress. Fervent prayer and grateful
thanksgiving followed the psalm.
For days the passengers and crew remained on the desolate island, till
they were relieved by a vessel sent from Cape Town, to which tidings of
the shipwreck had been forwarded. With what thankful joy they at last
landed on the shores of Africa, the inhabitants of Cape Town crowding
to see the poor tempest-torn wanderers, and to show them sympathy and
kindness. Several weeks passed in this haven of refuge before the Duffs
were able to embark in another vessel called the "Moira," to pursue
their voyage to Calcutta.
————————
CHAPTER IV.
LANDED AT LAST.
If the Missionaries hoped that they would now in peace and tolerable
comfort pursue their voyage to their long desired haven, they were to
be sadly disappointed. It seemed as if wind and waves joined together
to keep them back from India. The experience of the Duffs in the
"Moira" was not to be very unlike theirs in the poor wrecked "Lady
Holland."
Contrary winds drove the vessel far out of her course, increasing to
such a hurricane that she nearly went down into the depths of the sea.
Not till the end of May did the poor half exhausted travellers see the
little pilot ship which was to guide them up the Hoogly to Calcutta at
last.
In thought we can see the missionary Duff, with his tall form, handsome
face, animated manner and sparkling eyes, standing on the deck, and
pointing out to his wife the distant land beyond the heaving waters,
and crying out, "That is our India, yonder is our future battle-field,
so long hoped for, so long desired!"
The long muddy flat of Saugar island indeed was nothing beautiful
to look at, yet was full of interest, and welcome was the sound of
dropping anchor in the rapid stream which flows by its shore.
The long ocean-voyage was over, but the river had its perils as great
as those of the ocean. See how the clouds in big black masses gather
before the sun. Make ready, brave sailors, a storm is coming, and will
be upon you soon! It came—the terrible monsoon in all its fury! In vain
had three anchors been thrown out from the "Moira," anchors and cables
cannot hold her; like a baited animal breaking loose from the stake,
she struggles on the furious whirling waters. Driven before the roaring
gust, the "Moira" is hurled on a mud-bank, she is in a position of
awful peril. Nothing can be done to save her, for not even moonlight
now relieves the horrors of the darkness only lit up by flashes of
lightning!
Has the missionary come so far, and already endured so much only to
perish close to the land which he has vainly tried to reach! It was a
terrible night indeed, and with the wild monsoon sweeping around them,
thus helplessly "standed," how anxiously must the poor passengers in
the "Moira" have waited for daybreak! It came at last, and there was at
least light enough to show them their danger.
The appearance of the river was very fearful; the wind, whirling round
in cyclone gusts, raised columns of water which broke into foaming
cataracts. What had been land was so flooded that it looked like a
widening of the river. Yet to reach it was the travellers' best chance
of safety. There was a large tree not far off standing out of the
water. By swimming, some men managed to carry a rope from the ship to
it, which they could fasten to its branches. Along this rope a boat was
moved to the tree, and by its means the travellers were "landed" on
Saugar island, if that term can be used when they had to stand up to
their waists in water!
Oh! What a close to a long toilsome voyage, what a rude welcome
to India! Battered by the gale, drenched to the skin, the twice
shipwrecked Duffs with their companions struggled on till they came to
the first Hindu village which they hoped to enter, and find at least
a little rest in some hut however mean. But alas! From prejudices of
caste, the villagers would not take the poor weary ones in! Here was a
trial of faith and patience. Doubtless Duff felt far less for himself
than for his loving faithful wife. Turned back from the village, the
shipwrecked sufferers took refuge in a temple, and there, drenched with
mud, in a terrible state of exhaustion after the fearful night, the
Missionary pair remained for a while.
When the tidings of their state reached Calcutta, help was quickly
sent. After some time dinghy boats began to appear; in one of these
Mr. Duff and his patient wife at last reached Calcutta, the city of
palaces, where by a Scotch clergyman they were hospitably received. The
journey from London to Calcutta with such a succession of disasters,
had taken them more than "eight months" to accomplish. When the natives
of India heard of the perils surmounted by the Missionary Duff, the
remark was made, "Surely this man is a favorite of the gods who must
have some notable work for him to do in India."
What Duff himself thought of his troubles may be seen by what he wrote
in a letter on the day following that of his arrival in Calcutta.
"The loss of earthly comfort and possession is a rich gain indeed,
when accompanied by the increase of that treasure which nothing can
diminish. Where is faith without a victory? Where is victory without
a struggle? And can there be a struggle without enduring trials and
encountering difficulties? To us, we would pray, be the toil and the
hardship and the danger, and the crown of victory for our reward, or
death when maintaining our Master's cause, for an eternal glory."
Before this, Alexander Duff had written in reference to his large
stock of books and valuable papers lost in the shipwreck of the "Lady
Holland":—
"They are gone, and blessed be God, I can say gone without a murmur. So
perish all earthly things; the treasure which is laid up in Him alone
is unassailable. God has been to me a God full of mercy, and not the
least of His mercies do I find in cheerful resignation."
Thus "Faith turns the sands of life to gold."
————————
CHAPTER V.
BEGINNING WORK.
The special work for which Alexander Duff had been sent to India, was
to set up a missionary College. In doing this, he had to meet with some
great difficulties, and some of the most trying of them from his own
European friends. This sounds strange, and needs a little explanation.
A great many English people, some of them doubtless sensible and good
men, thought that though Hindu boys should certainly be taught, they
should only be taught in Oriental languages. They might learn Sanscrit,
Bengali, Persian, Arabic, it was said, but what would be the use of
teaching them English? Some persons think the same thing now; they
would feed boys' minds with stories from the Vedas, they would let them
know ancient poems filled with impure legends, and become good Oriental
scholars, but to teach English is, in such persons' opinion, to bring
in insolent manners, vanity, deceit and infidelity.
Dr. Duff held a very different opinion. He looked on the English tongue
as the key to a rich storehouse of science, wisdom and truth, where
eager minds and hungry souls might feed, and so grow to manly stature.
Why only open presses full of sweetmeats, some of them well-known to
be poisoned with vice, while a rich granary might be thrown open to
young India? Duff resolved, with the firmness of his resolute nature,
that he would teach Hindu boys English; and in this he was encouraged
by an enlightened native, Raja Rammohun Roy. The native languages were
by no means to be neglected, but the English key to knowledge was to
be given to India, the granary was to be opened. Duff saw that it
was not true that his pupils must become, as was feared, like those
worthless natives who had caught a smattering of English just in order
more easily to cheat Europeans lately arrived from the West. It was
not true that because some English books, alas! contain the poison of
infidelity, that ignorance of the language would keep Bengalis safe
from the evil.
We see the truth of this reasoning now, but at that time Duff had to
face a strong opposition. Before he opened his school, one of the
Missionary's dearest friends came to implore him to give up his design
of teaching boys in English. Finding all his arguments and entreaties
in vain, the friend rose, and shaking Duff by the hand, uttered this
sad prediction:
"You will deluge Calcutta with rogues and villains!"
Oh! What a strange mistake was made by this doubtless well meaning man!
India has at this moment no nobler sons than the boys taught in the
College of Duff!
The Missionary's first efforts to instruct in Calcutta have been thus
described.
Duff "planted himself in the very heart of the native town. Nor did
he, as some advised, begin with the erection of a grand building which
would do much, it was urged, to attract the pupils. The grand building
was left to the future, and a room of a Hindu house, in Chitpore, a
small ill-ventilated room, was in the first instance sufficient. Here,
a month and a half after landing, Mr. Duff might have been seen in
eager converse, mostly by means of an interpreter, with five young men,
whom Raja Rammohun Roy had persuaded to attend. The despisers of the
day of small things would have read failure over that first day's work.
To Mr. Duff it was a hopeful beginning.
"Next day twenty-five appeared, and before a week was over, the room
was filled at different periods of the day with two distinct sets of
scholars. Two hundred and fifty were thus accommodated, and still many
had to be refused."
Here then was the opening work of him who has been described as "the
Missionary who knew no Bengali, and taught boys who knew no English."
An amusing account has been given of Duff's early lessons; of course he
had to begin with the alphabet. He who was so learned and eloquent was
content to stoop to teach boys their A B C. Gathering his class around
him, the Master would begin by showing a large pointed O on a frame.
Very soon the letter was shouted out by some hundred young tongues.
The letter X would follow, the word OX was thus formed, and the merry
scholars were delighted to find that they had mastered an English word.
The teacher then exercised the minds of his pupils by asking them
questions about the animal whose name they had learned. So delighted
were the boys at this new, simple, and amusing way of instruction, that
when they went out into the streets, and saw an ox pulling a cart, they
would shout "Ox! Ox!" at the top of their voices.
This was the first step to something higher. Duff was training his boys
to "think;" they were no parrots merely to learn a lesson by rote. Duff
opened the intellects of his scholars, and at the same time won their
hearts by his kindness. The work wonderfully grew and spread. The hired
house was exchanged for a better one, which was—after the lapse of a
considerable time—to be succeeded by a beautiful college.
After a year, a public examination was held. Those who were present
at it were surprised at reading of the boys, their knowledge of
arithmetic, geography and grammar. Those who had expected that
but little could possibly have been done in a year, listened with
admiration to the prompt and clever answers given by the bright young
students.
Here indeed was grand success. The desire of the youth of India to
learn under Alexander Duff became greater and greater. As the Master
afterwards wrote,—
"The excitement amongst the natives continued unabated. They pursued us
along the streets, they threw open the very doors of our palankeens,
and poured in their supplications with a pitiful earnestness of
countenance that might have softened a heart of stone. They craved for
English reading, English knowledge. In broken English some would say,
'me good boy, Oh! take me!' Some 'me want read good books, Oh! take
me!'"
Such was the press of new candidates that it was found quite needful
only to admit by tickets, and to station two men at the door to see
that no boys came in who could not show such a ticket.
Thus was the blessing of God given to the first efforts of the
Missionary Duff for the improvement of the boys of India.
————————
CHAPTER VI.
FIRST FRUITS.
It must not be thought that whilst the missionary opened the minds of
his pupils, he for one day forgot the care of their souls. What avails
human learning without that knowledge which leads to life eternal! Duff
had seen a parable of this in his shipwreck. Eight hundred volumes
which he had carefully chosen were destroyed; so were the papers on the
writing of which he had bestowed weeks and months of pains; "but his
Bible was left to him still!"
So when the flood of death swallows up the fruit of mere earthly
labours, and the sage and the idiot alike are cast on the shore of
eternity bare of all that belonged but to this world, the Word of God
will abide for ever, the Christian's best treasure is left to him still.
The boys of Duff's school were every day taught pure religion, and
their parents were invited to attend during the lesson.
One day that lesson was on Charity as described in the Thirteenth
Chapter of First Corinthians. "Throughout, all were attentive, and
the minds of a few became intensely riveted, while the glistening eye
and the changeful countenance reflected as in a mirror the inward
thought most clearly. At last when the concluding words of the inspired
description of heavenly love was given, 'endureth all things,' a youth
who but a few days before had risen to oppose the reading of the Bible,
started from his seat exclaiming aloud, 'Oh! Sir! That is too good for
us! who can act up to that, who can act up to that.'"
A deep impression was made on the mind of one young Hindu from the
simple reading of the words that promise blessedness to him who loves
and prays for his enemy. For days and weeks the youth could not help
crying out, "'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you!' How
beautiful! how divine! surely this is the truth!"
Duff's explanation of the causes and nature of rain led his bright lads
to understand that it neither comes from Indra, nor from a celestial
elephant. They felt that they had been too long grossly deceived in
matters of science. In some minds there was doubtless a struggle
between the new ideas and the old. "What becomes of our Shaster if your
account be true?" asked a young Brahman. "The Shaster is true, Brahma
is true, and your Gurus must accordingly be false, 'and yet it looks
like the truth.'"
On the occasion of an eclipse, a true exposition being given of the
real cause of the wonder, a very great shock was given to Hindu
prejudice. Many of the intelligent lads perceived that the wild tales
which they had been told about a monster attacking the sun, were not
only false but absurd.
The movement going on was one which could not be hidden; Gurus and
Brahmans, accustomed to be adored almost as gods, saw that Hinduism
itself was in danger. Those whom it had been their interest to keep in
darkness, were having their eyes opened. The Brahmans determined to
crush the Missionary school. A decree went forth that whoever attended
it should be excluded from caste. It was suggested that a yellow flag
should be placed before the school to warn all Hindus from entering so
dangerous a place.
The timid people were frightened by the threats of those who had been
their spiritual leaders. The school was almost deserted. Only half a
dozen boys sat on the benches that had been crowded by three hundred.
But the panic lasted for a very short time; in less than a week, back
came the deserters. Dr. Duff went calmly on with his duties till his
classes were more crowded than ever.
In the second year of the Missionary's labours in Calcutta, he received
a note from a Hindu which must have thrilled his heart with joy. It
was written by one who had been tossing on an ocean of doubt, but was
now seeing the lights in the port. Mokesh Chunder Ghose sent his own
brother to Mr. Duff with the following remarkable letter.
"If you can make a Christian of him you will have a valuable one, and
you may rest assured that you have my hearty consent to it. Convince
him and make him a Christian, I will give no secret opposition.
Scepticism has made me too miserable to wish my dear brother the
same. A doubtfulness of the existence of another world, and of the
benevolence of God, made me too unhappy and spread a gloom all over my
mind, but I thank God that I have no doubts at present. I am travelling
from step to step, and Christianity, I think, will be the last place
where I shall rest, for every time I think, its evidence becomes too
overpowering."
Oh! With what delight must the faithful Missionary have read such a
letter! With what fervour must he have prayed that the enquirer should
never never pause, until he found rest indeed, and for ever, at the
feet of the Blessed Jesus!
Such a prayer was granted. The brave young Hindu dared to come out and
confess Christ openly by baptism. Mokesh Chunder Ghose stood forward
as the first convert given to Duff. The young man's own account of his
conversion, given before many witnesses is too interesting not to be
inserted here. After long silence Mokesh Chunder Ghose thus broke forth.
"A twelve month ago I was an atheist . . . and what am I now? 'A
baptized Christian!' A twelve month ago I was the most miserable of
the miserable, and what am I now? In my own mind 'the happiest of the
happy.' What a change! How has it been brought about? The recollection
of the past fills me with wonder.
"When I first came to your lectures it was not instruction that I
wanted. Instruction was the pretext; a secret desire to expose what I
reckoned your irrational and superstitious follies was the reality.
At last against my inclination, against my feelings I was obliged to
admit the truth of Christianity. Its evidence was so strong that I
could not resist it. But I still felt contrary to what I 'thought.' On
hearing your account of the nature of sin, and especially sins of the
heart, my conscience burst on me like a volcano. My soul was pierced
through . . . I was in a hell of torment. On hearing and examining
further I began, I know not how or why, to find relief from the words
of your Bible. What I once thought most irrational I soon found to be
very wisdom, what I once hated most I soon began to love most, and now
I love it altogether . . . 'In spite of myself I became a Christian.'
Surely some unseen power must have been guiding me! Surely this must
have been what your Bible calls grace, free grace, sovereign grace!"
Such was the simple, straight forward, manly confession of Alexander
Duff's first Hindu convert.
————————
CHAPTER VII.
THE KOOLIN BRAHMIN.
Mokesh Chunder Ghose was not long to stand alone. He was followed by
a Koolin Brahmin, Khrisha Mohun Banerjea, now a well-known and much
respected Christian clergyman. Of a candid, enquiring disposition, he
had been convinced of the errors of Hinduism before he had received
Christianity as truth from God. He was at the head of party of
deep-thinkers who would no longer consent to be duped, and his own very
high rank as a Koolin Brahman made him an object of special wrath to
his former co-religionists. They fiercely demanded of Banerjea's family
they should disown him, on pain of themselves losing their caste should
they refuse to do so.
The reformer's family called on him to renounce what they called his
errors, and own his belief in the Hindu religion, or be for ever cast
out from his home. The poor young man chose ruin rather than falsehood.
Banerjea left his home at night with some of his friends who held the
same views as himself.
"We left," wrote he, "the home where we passed our infant days; we left
our mother that nourished us in childhood; we left our brother with
whom we associated in our early days; we left our sisters with whom we
sympathised since they were born."
Personal danger was added to private grief. As Banerjea and his friends
were returning, a furious mob broke loose on them, and it was with
some difficulty that they made their escape. No wonder that the Koolin
Brahman fell into a fever. He had as yet lost all, without any positive
gain; he had left Krishna but he had not found Christ.
"I was perfectly regardless of God," he wrote at a subsequent time,
"yet, as a merciful Father He forgot not me!"
Dr. Duff sent a native friend to invite Banerjea to his house.
Blessed was the hour when the out-cast reformer crossed a Christian's
threshold. Banerjea's own description of the interview must be given.
"Mr. Duff received me with Christian kindness, and enquired of the
state in which we all were. He openly expressed his sentiments on
what we were about, and while he approved of one half of our conduct
he lamented the other. He was glad of our proclamation against error,
but sincerely sorry at our neglecting the truth. I told him that it
was not our fault that we were not Christians; we did not believe in
Christianity and therefore could not consistently profess it. The
Reverend gentleman with great calmness said that it was true that
I could not be blamed for my not believing in Christianity so long
as I was ignorant of it, but that I was certainly guilty of serious
neglect for not enquiring into its doctrines and evidences. This word
enquire was so uttered as to produce an impression on me which I cannot
sufficiently well describe . . . I was so struck with Mr. Duff's words
that we instantly resolved to hold weekly meetings at his house for
religious instruction and discussion."
Persecution drove the reformer to a European lodging house, for not a
native dared to shelter him. Banerjea narrowly escaped death by poison!
But the former Koolin Brahman went on earnestly with his search after
truth, and at length he found it. "Knock, and it shall be opened unto
you." Banerjea desired to be baptised in the house of the Missionary
who had led him to Christ, and was so, in the presence of many of his
friends who still remained Hindus.
After prayer by another clergyman, Mr. Duff thus questioned the
convert:—"Do you renounce all idols, superstitions, and all the
frivolous rites and practices of the Hindu religion?"
To this the former Koolin Brahman replied, "I do, and I pray God that
he may incline my countrymen to do so likewise."
"Do you believe in God the Father and Creator of all; in Jesus Christ
as your Redeemer, and in His Sacrifice as the only means whereby man
can be saved; and in the sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit?"
To this Banerjea with emotion replied, "I do, and I pray God to give me
grace to do His will!"
Then the convert received the pure water of baptism, and the company,
kneeling, engaged in prayer. Thus was gathered in Alexander Duff's
second sheaf in Calcutta.
————————
CHAPTER VIII.
A CONVERT'S STORY.
I will not attempt to give an account of half the lads whom Mr. Duff
first taught to think, then to pray, then to leave all and dare all
for the sake of religion. They formed a noble band, of whom some are
still living in positions of usefulness and honour even in the distant
Panjab, while others, represented on earth by their children, have
gone, like their loved Missionary, to join the Blessed above. But the
story of the third youth who became a convert is so interesting, that a
chapter must be given to him.
[Illustration: GOPINATH NUNDI.]
One morning a young man named Gopinath Nundi came into Mr. Duff's
study, and bursting into tears exclaimed, "Can I be saved!"
He told how the last of a series of lectures given by the Missionary
had driven him to seek the advice of Banerjea, who prayed with him,
and sent him to Mr. Duff. Bitter trials were afterwards endured by
this young convert, such as are experienced now by many Hindus and
Mahomedans who, when convinced of the truth of Christianity, take up
their cross and follow the Lord. Gopinath was cast off by his family,
after enduring first their entreaties, then their abuse. The most
painful wrench was when Gopinath heard his old mother's cry of anguish.
The convert wept, but was granted strength to keep firm.
He threw up his arms and turning hastily away exclaimed, "No! I cannot
stay!"
He knew that the Lord Jesus Christ hath said, "he that loveth father or
mother more than me is not worthy of Me."
It was about twenty-five years after that painful scene that Gopinath,
then a Christian pastor, had to pass through one more terrible still;
the same grace that had supported him through the first trial, bore him
up in the last.
In the dreadful time of the Mutiny in 1857, Gopinath, then a married
clergyman of Futteypore, had to endure a confessor's sufferings, and
almost met a martyr's death. Of his sufferings, when attempting with
his wife to fly from the murderous foe, a shortened account shall be
given, chiefly in his own words.
"We travelled till 9 A. M. when both ourselves and our dear children,
(two of them six years, and the baby one year old,) felt tired and sat
down under the shade of a tree. The poor children cried most bitterly
from hunger. We laid our petitions before that God who fed His people
with manna in the wilderness, and indeed He heard our prayer. We saw
in the distance a marriage procession; I went up to them and they gave
me five pice, which enabled me to buy suttoogoor; with this we fed the
children and resumed our journey."
At night the poor exhausted travellers found shelter in the house of a
kind Hindu, and in the early morning started for Allahabad.
"There," Gopinath goes on, "we saw with heartfelt sorrow that the
missionary bungalow was burnt to ashes, and the beautiful church
totally disfigured. On our arrival swarms of Mahomedans fell upon us.
A Hindu goldsmith took us into his house, and kept us safe during the
day. At sunset, when we left his protection, we fell into the hands of
some other Mahomedans. When we saw that there was no way of escape,
and the villagers ready to kill us, we begged them hard to take us to
their head the Moulvie, who for some days assumed the supreme authority
there. When we were brought before him, we found him seated on a chair;
surrounded by men with drawn swords. We made our salams, upon which he
put to us the following questions:—
"'Who are you?'—'Christians.'
"'What place do you come from?'—'Futteypore.'
"'What was your occupation?'—'Teaching and preaching the Christian
religion.'
"'Are you a Padri?'—'Yes, Sir.'
"'Is it you who used to go about reading and distributing tracts?'
"'Yes, Sir, I and my catechist.'
"'How many Christians have you made?'
"'I did not make any Christians, for no human being can change the
heart of another, but God, through my instrumentality, brought to the
belief of His true religion about a couple of dozens.'"
This roused the man's fury. He exclaimed that Gopinath deserved a cruel
death; he threatened to cut off his nose, ears, and hands, and to make
slaves of his poor little children. Then, perhaps moved by a little
pity, the Moulvie offered not only to spare but to favour Gopinath if
he would become a Mahomedan. The converted Hindu replied that he would
prefer death. The same offer was made to Gopinath's wife, and she
returned a like brave answer.
The Mahomedan sent the family to prison, saying that he would give them
three days to consider. The prison was shared with a European and some
native Christians. After relating to each other their sad stories,
the whole afflicted party, at Gopinath's suggestion, knelt down to
pray. Whilst they were thus engaged, one of the guards came and kicked
Gopinath on the back, bidding him pray after the Mahomedan form or hold
his tongue.
[Illustration: CHEKE and GOPINATH NUNDI.]
The next day a youthful officer, named Cheke, sorely wounded, was added
to the band of prisoners. Gopinath tended him as well as he could,
which seems to have made the daroga angry, for he put Gopinath into the
stocks. A party of Mahomedans now came, and again Gopinath was offered
immediate release if he would deny his faith.
The almost dying Cheke cried with a loud voice, "Padri, Padri, be firm,
do not give way!"
And God enabled the sufferer to keep firm, though he saw his poor wife
dragged from him by her hair, and brutally wounded in the face.
Three days passed, but God withheld the Moulvie from fulfilling his
threat of murdering his heroic prisoner. A fourth—a fifth day found the
Christian family still enduring their ordeal of fiery trial. On the
sixth day the Moulvie came to the prison, and mockingly, asked his poor
captive if he were comfortable.
"How can I be comfortable when my feet are fastened to the stocks?" was
the reply; yet Gopinath added an expression of submission to the will
of his Heavenly Father.
But the parent could not forbear asking the tyrant how he could be
so cruel as not to allow a drop of milk to a poor innocent baby. The
sufferings of his helpless family must have been to Gopinath even more
grievous than his own.
But these sufferings were near their close. Brave Europeans and Sikh
soldiers were now at hand; a fierce fight ensued, and the Moulvie's
followers were utterly routed. Gopinath and his family were free! Who
can describe their delight when they found themselves rescued by God's
almighty power, with the yet higher joy of feeling through all that
awful trial of faith they had been kept from denying their Saviour! How
devout must have been their thanksgivings to Him who had brought them
through that Valley of the Shadow of Death into light, and joy, and
freedom!
Gopinath and his wife lived to re-organise the church in Futteypore
though they were not very long afterwards called into the presence of
the Heavenly King whom they had so faithfully served.—What cause had
Dr. Duff, (he had then received the title of Doctor,) to rejoice over
the convert who so many years before had come to him in tears with the
cry, "Can I be saved!"
————————
CHAPTER IX.
DRIVEN HOME.
Let us return to the earlier days spent by our Missionary in Calcutta.
Alexander Duff had started for India a remarkably fine and powerful
man. But hard work, fiery heat, and long fatiguing journeys taken
in the course of his labours, ere many years had passed, brought
him to the brink of the grave. First he had violent jungle fever,
but recovering from this, he was soon again at his work. Remittent
fever came on; Duff struggled on, loth to give way. But when severe
dysentery followed, the once strong man was reduced to a state of utter
prostration. An experienced doctor pronounced the sufferer's state to
be almost desperate, but very little hope was entertained of saving the
life of Mr. Duff.
However, after awaking from a long deep trance, the sufferer so far
revived that he could be taken on board a ship. The sick Missionary
could hardly endure the idea of leaving his work in India. He implored
the doctor to send him on a short voyage and not all the way to England.
"I devoted myself to the Lord," he pleaded, "to spend and to be spent
in His service in this land."
The doctor almost sternly replied, "In the last nine months you have
suffered more from tropical diseases than many who have passed their
lives in India: let not a day be lost!"
And so, looking the wreck of his former self, after four years of very
hard but very successful work, Mr. Duff for awhile took his leave of
the land which he loved. His feelings towards Hindostan were expressed
in words which he wrote at a later period.
"Wherever I wander, wherever I stay, my heart is in India, in deep
sympathy with its multitudinous inhabitants, and in earnest longings
for their highest welfare in time and in eternity!"
It was a comfort to the Missionary that he was able to leave his work
to be carried on by wise and pious men, of a like spirit with himself.
It was on a Christmas day that the ship which carried Mr. Duff and his
family, (for he was now father as well as husband) entered the Firth
of Clyde. Once more the Highlander trod the soil of his dear native
land, once more he looked with admiring eyes on the beautiful city of
Edinburgh, with its bold hills, and picturesque castle.
The sea-air had greatly restored Mr. Duff, and the pure breezes of
Scotland seemed to give him new life. But what measure of strength was
renewed to him, was freely to be expended in the cause of Missions.
Duff had not come home to rest. If he could not work "in" India,
he would work "for" India still. He would rouse Scotland, aye, and
England too, to give more freely, to labour more heartily, to pray more
fervently for the benighted Hindus.
Only the fervour of his zeal enabled the Missionary to undergo the
great fatigues which followed his return to his country. Amidst the
frosts of winter or the heats of summer travelling North, South, East
and West, Mr. Duff addressed hundreds of congregations all over the
land of Scotland. Twice he visited London, and other large cities of
England. Often, when almost exhausted, the Missionary would make long
speeches in crowded meetings, he was known to do so even when just
rising from a sick bed. Mr. Duff's thin gaunt form, his worn wasted
face, pleaded as well as his voice.
On one occasion when Mr. Duff began to speak, it seemed as if he
could only utter a few sentences, and he was conscious that many were
gazing at him, fearful, as was afterwards said, that he would soon
drop on the floor. But oh! the power of eloquence which God gave to
that almost worn-out man! Though Duff's voice at last so failed that
it was an effort to bring out a whisper, and he was so drenched with
perspiration as to feel as if dragged through the sea, the effect of
his speech was wonderful. Down the cheeks of even stern hard men the
tears were flowing. Those who had cared little whether India's millions
went to Heaven or Hell, were now ready to join heart and hand in the
effort to save them. The rich gave largely, children joined in penny
subscriptions, the poor gave gladly of their little. Oh! That the
natives of India knew how much self-denial is shown by some of the
humble subscribers to missions; what warm sympathy and loving pity is
felt in Britain for nations in darkness, who have not yet welcomed the
tidings of Salvation!
A lady who had seen Mr. Duff at a Communion service thus described him:
"He seemed like one from Heaven; and he looked so ill, as if he might
have passed away as he broke the bread."
Let us give a short specimen of the eloquence which, by God's blessing
on it, made hearers not only give money, but in some cases "themselves"
to the holy cause of missions. Let the voice of Duff, Oh! reader, speak
to you as from the dead. You cannot look on the earnest face of him who
almost died in the work of bringing sinners to Christ,—but imagine the
missionary now before you,—imagine his words as addressed to yourself,
his piercing gaze fixed upon you, his appeal made to "your" heart!
"Collect what is fair and lovely in every world, what is bright and
dazzling in every sun . . . and after having united these myriads of
bright orbs into one glorious constellation combining in itself the
concentrated beauty and loveliness of the whole created universe, go
and compare an atom to a world, a drop to the ocean,—the twinkle of
a taper to the full blaze of the noontide sun, then may you compare
even this all-comprehending constellation of beauty and excellence to
Him Who is the brightness of the Father's glory, who is God over all,
blessed for ever!
"And yet, wonder Oh! heavens, and rejoice Oh! earth! this great and
mighty and glorious Being did, for our sakes, consent to veil His
glory, and appear upon earth as a Man of sorrows, whose visage was so
marred more than any man's, and His form more than the sons of men!
Oh! is not this love, self-sacrificing love, love that is 'higher than
the heights above, deeper than the depths beneath!' Oh! is not this
condescension, self-sacrificing condescension, condescension without a
parallel and without a name! 'God manifest in the flesh!' God manifest
in the flesh for the redemption of a rebel race! Oh! is this the wonder
of a world, is not this the astonishment of a universe!"
Then referring to the angels who had witnessed the wondrous coming of
Christ to earth, the fervent speaker went on:
"Tell me, Oh! tell me if in their cloudless vision it would seem
aught so marvellous, so passing strange, did they behold the greatest
and mightiest of a guilty race, redeemed themselves at so vast a
price, . . . issue forth in the footsteps of the Divine Redeemer into
the waste howling wilderness of sin, to seek and to save them that are
lost!"
Duff himself had thus gone forth once, thus was he eager to go forth
once more. In vain was he tempted again and again by offers of
honourable employment, which would have given him ease and comfort in
the land of his birth. It was not that Duff did not love Scotland; no,
he passionately loved his country. He declared that as regarded his
own comfort, he would rather have the poorest hut, with the homeliest
fare, and the bleakest cleft of Scotland, than be the possessor of the
stateliest palace in Bengal.
"I would go," cried the true-hearted Missionary, "not because I love
Scotland less, but because I humbly and devoutly trust that, through
the aid of Divine grace, I have been led to love my God and Saviour,
and the extension of His blessed cause on earth still more."
And so, as soon as he was well enough to return, Mr. (now Dr.) Duff
prepared for another long voyage to India, accompanied by his loving
faithful wife. They both had a sore sacrifice to make, for they left
their fondly loved children behind. For eleven long years the parents
were never to look on their faces again, and one little darling they
were never again to behold in this world. When Dr. Duff preached his
farewell sermon, the listening people were in tears.
We will not stop to give an account of the outward journey. It was a
very long one, and again, before landing in Calcutta, the travellers
encountered the monsoon. For twelve hours the fierce hurricane raged.
But at length the haven was reached, and Dr. Duff again set his foot on
India's shore, to begin once more his loving labours for the welfare of
her children.
————————
CHAPTER X.
TUMULTS AND THREATS.
Education work grew fast and increased, as the banyan-tree sends down
shoots that themselves grow to be trees. Before Dr. Duff had reached
the age of forty, there were three colleges and many schools belonging
to the Scottish mission. Many indeed were the learners, but it is only
now and then that one is found bold enough and faithful enough to come
out openly and declare what he believes in his heart. Such a one was
Umesh Chander Sirkar.
For two years the Bible teaching in the college had deeply impressed
the soul of the young Hindu. His friends in alarm, advised him to study
"infidel" writings; they would rather have him devoid of all religion
than a believer in Christ! They would rather, as it were, put out
his eyes, than let him fix their gaze on the Saviour! But what Umesh
Chander read made him but the more firmly a Christian. He was youthful,
only sixteen; he longed to keep with him his sweet child-wife, then
only ten years of age. For two years the young couple in the dead of
night studied the Scriptures together; at no other time could they have
been safe from interruption. It was a sight to make angels rejoice when
the youth, his own heart glowing with holy love, taught the child-wife
to look to Jesus as the Way, the Truth, and the Life! Umesh Chander's
words dropped like seed on a rich soil, the little Hindu wife showed
herself worthy of her husband.
At last Umesh Chander put into the girl' hand that wonderful allegory,
the "Pilgrim's Progress." The quick mind of the little Hindu grasped
the meaning of the parable. When the girl of twelve read the
description of Christian's flight from the City of Destruction, she
exclaimed, "Is not this exactly our condition? Are we not now living in
the City of Destruction? Is it not our duty to act like Christian, to
arise, forsake all, and flee our lives?"
The brave child's words seem to have brought her husband to a decision.
The next idol-festival gave an opportunity for flight.
It was a Sabbath evening; a meeting for prayer had been held with
native converts. After it, Dr. Duff had retired to his own room. It
was to him a time of great anxiety and trial. News from Scotland had
troubled him greatly. Dark clouds seemed to be gathering round; even
his brave heart was oppressed with care. Such seasons come to try the
faith of the most devoted Christians. Dr. Duff was wondering how God
would interfere to deliver His people from their distresses, when his
sad thoughts had a delightful interruption.
Suddenly Umesh Chander with his brave little wife, and Jugadishwar, a
convert who had aided their escape, appeared before him! In the joy of
his heart the Missionary exclaimed, "The Lord be praised!"
But a terrible tumult was to follow. Not even Gopinath's conversion had
excited such a commotion. Umesh Chander's father was a man of great
power as well as bigotry; he was the treasurer of the Mullik family who
possessed enormous wealth. The Mulliks and Sirkars with their numerous
followers besieged the house of Dr. Duff, the place of refuge which
had been sought by the youthful pair. The mob attempted violence, they
were full of wrath and fury. Dr. Duff had to keep his door fast closed
to prevent the fugitives thronging in and carrying off his guests by
force. Finding that they could not rush in, the Hindus changed their
mode of attack. The scene was changed to a court of justice. Umesh
Chander's father, boldly lying, declared that his son was but fourteen
years of age, and that Dr. Duff was keeping him in his house by force
and against the boy's own will! What must that religion be which needs
the prop of falsehood!
The Chief Justice appeared on the Bench, the case was investigated at
once. The convert was proved to be really upwards of eighteen years of
age. No question was raised about the wife; the brave child was allowed
to remain with her husband. Both were baptised together, two youthful
pilgrims starting hand in hand on their journey to the Heavenly City.
Oh! Tie of marriage how close and how blessed when husband and wife are
"one in the Lord!" This was the first instance in Bengal of a wedded
Hindu pair receiving baptism together.
It is some time since Umesh Chander Sirkar reached his celestial home,
but it is interesting to know that his wife still survives, and works
amongst Hindu girls! May she win many to enter on the same blessed
flight from the City of Destruction!
About a week after the double baptism, the tumult was repeated; another
Christian convert had dared to confess his faith! Baikunta Nath Day
took refuge with Dr. Smith from the storm which his conversion had
raised. But the protection of this house proved less effectual than
that of Dr. Duff's had been. While the Missionary was absent, the
poor fugitive was torn by force from the dwelling, carried off to a
relative's house, and "imprisoned in chains!" And actually Baikunta's
family were wicked enough to try to bind him in the yet stronger chains
of "vice!" If they could make him utterly vile, they thought that he
would be unfitted to become a Christian. What cared they for the ruin
of his soul, so that the family were not disgraced by his adopting the
religion of the pure and spotless Jesus!
But the dear lad was strengthened to resist all the temptations which
man or devil could bring to drag him down to perdition. And the Lord
delivered Baikunta not only out of temptation but out of his chains.
The place of his confinement was discovered, and the law obliged his
tormentors to give up their prey. The Rev. Baikunta Nath now preaches
the Gospel of Christ.
The Hindus exerted themselves to the utmost to ruin the work of
Christian education. Their efforts at first seemed to have great
success. The number of Dr. Duff's pupils had risen to above a thousand
in daily attendance, but he lost three hundred youths in one week!
Nor was this all that tried the Missionary. More baptisms fanned the
flame of bigotry into farther fury. Four more Koolin Brahmans had
confessed the Saviour. A violent anti-Christian meeting was held.
Actually a plot was formed to get rid altogether of the great opponent
of idolatry, Dr. Duff. If his eloquent persuasive tongue could be
silenced in no other way, it could be silenced in death. How easy to
hire ruffians to waylay and attack him.
Dr. Duff received kindly warnings of his danger. One person wrote,
"There is, I hear, a conspiracy amongst the wealthy Baboos to hire some
ruffians to maltreat you. If you treat it (the report) with contempt,
you will go on us usual; on the contrary if you think the report to be
true, you will avoid going out at night, or rather never go the same
road twice together."
Another wrote, "I have been credibly and seriously informed this day
that there is, or is to be, a plot by which some ruffians of the baser
sorts are hired to assault you . . . pray do not at least go out by
night &c."
The brave soul of Dr. Duff was not to be moved by personal fear. He
published a paper headed "A word of faithful and firm yet kindly
admonition to some of the Calcutta Baboos." This paper is too long to
be inserted in full, but an extract will show the writer's spirit.
"As to the rumour of threats regarding myself, I shall continue to
regard them as an idle tale. Amongst the Calcutta Baboos there are
those whom I respect and esteem, and to whose keeping I would at any
time entrust my life, in the most perfect confidence of friendship
and protection. If others, who do not know me personally, should in
ignorance of my principles and motives, entertain unkindly or hostile
feelings towards me, the fact would be in no way surprising. Even if
the alleged threats were real, and not the progeny of lying fiction, I
should not be in the least moved by them. My trust is in God."
And towards the end of his paper, Dr. Duff alluding to the well-known
saying that "the blood of martyrs is the seed of the church," thus
shows his calm confidence that even his murder could do no real injury
to the cause of God and His truth.
"The first actual missionary martyrdom that shall be enacted in
this heavenly cause may do more, under the over-ruling Providence
of God to precipitate the inevitable doom of Hinduism, and speed on
the chariot of Gospel triumph, than would the establishment of a
thousand additional Christian schools, or the delivery of ten thousand
additional Christian addresses throughout the towns and villages of
this mighty empire."
————————
CHAPTER XI.
GLIMPSES OF INNER LIFE.
A pleasant picture of the great Missionary has been given by one of his
converts.
"We joined Dr. and Mrs. Duff, (their children being away in Scotland)
at family worship both morning and evening. Duff was punctual as
clockwork. At eight in the morning, not one minute before or after,
the prayer-bell rang, and we were all in the breakfast-room, where the
morning worship used to be held. Duff was always observant of the forms
of politeness, and never forget to shake hands with us, asking us the
usual question, 'How do you do?' By the way, Duff's shake of the hand
was different from that of other people; it was not a mere formal stiff
languid shake, but like everything else of him warm and hearty. He
would go on shaking, catching fast hold of your hand in his, and would
not let it go for some seconds.
"We always began by singing one of the grand old Psalms of David . . .
The reading over we all knelt down. Oh! how shall I describe the
prayers which Duff offered up both morning and evening! Much as
I admired Duff in his public appearances in the pulpit or on the
platform, I admired and loved him infinitely more at the family altar,
where in a simple and childlike manner he devoutly and earnestly poured
out his soul before our common Father in Heaven."
In 1847 Dr. Duff was deeply grieved by news of the death of a dear
and revered friend, Dr. Chalmers, who was called the Father of the
Free Scotch Church. Dr. Chalmers had indeed held the highest and most
influential position of all the church ministers in Scotland, and an
anxious question arose as to who would be worthy to succeed him. There
was one man indeed, who was felt by many to be most worthy, talented,
devoted and wise; that man was Alexander Duff. By vote the opinion of
the Free Church was taken in this very important matter; and the result
was that Dr. Duff received a call from the General Assembly to come
back to his native land, take the Theological chair,—and so in clerical
matters hold the position of leader. So certain were some that Dr. Duff
would with pleasure accept so highly honourable a post, which would
restore him to his country and children, that not only individuals,
but writers in newspapers congratulated him upon what they called his
promotion.
The young Church of India was struck with alarm at the prospect of
losing their teacher and guide. Duff's converts implored him as their
much-loved spiritual father in the Lord not to leave them. Even to
non-Christian natives the news of Dr. Duff's probable departure came
like a blow. A remonstrance was written by eleven learned Brahmans
"desirous of the Chief Good," to the people of Scotland. The Hindus
pleaded with his countrymen that Dr. Duff might be left to India. They
thus wrote, "this illustrious person has devoted his head and heart,
and spent large sums of money . . . Such a man as the Reverend Doctor
was never seen in this country before . . . Good men have become sad,
and bad men are rejoicing. The friends of true religion are praying
that God would change the minds of the people of Scotland, and prevent
Dr. Duff's recall."
The infant Church had no need to fear that anything short of God's Will
would suffice to make their beloved teacher give up his Indian work.
Dr. Duff declared that he must die as he had lived, a Missionary.
"The Church of my fathers," he wrote home, "must see it to be right
and meet to allow me to retain in the view of all men the clearly
marked and distinguishing character 'of a Missionary to the Heathen;'
abroad labouring directly amongst them, at home pleading their cause
among the Churches of Christendom . . . For the sake of the heathen,
and especially of the people of India, let me cling all my days to the
Missionary cause."
It must never be thought that it was from indifference to his children
that Dr. Duff endured to be parted from them so long. With grief and
bursting tears, he received news of the death of his darling little
daughter Annie. Long afterwards, he thus wrote of her in a letter to
his wife.
"I seldom allude to dear child who bore your name, but the sweet image
of her often crosses my mind. She was a perfectly loveable one, and
I know not that I ever felt any stroke so acutely as her unexpected
death. And even still, when alone by myself, the thought of her
cheerful animated countenance, with its sweet expression and lisping
tongue, often brings the tear to my eye, as now."
The brave man, the talented scholar, had a tender affectionate heart;
he loved to play with little ones. In his kindness, he followed the
steps of the Blessed Saviour, who took up children in His arms, and
blessed them.
Still less must it be thought that because Dr. Duff was so honoured
in lands, near and afar, and had been the means of leading so many
converts to Christ, that his heart was lifted up with spiritual
pride. Brahmans indeed had declared that there was never such a man
seen in the country before, but what did the gifted Missionary think
of "himself?" An extract from Dr. Duff's private journal gives us
a glimpse of the brave strong Christian, not as he appeared in the
school-room, the lecture-hall, or the Church, but as he was when on his
knees in his chamber, alone with his God. Read and ponder over what
follows, ye who think that a man can be justified by his works.
"All my days I have been a child of Providence, the Lord leading me
and guiding me in ways unknown to me, in ways of His own, and for the
accomplishment of His own heavenly ends. Oh! that I were more worthy!
But somehow I feel as if the more marvellous the Lord's dealings with
me, the more cold, heartless and indolent I become. Is not this sad,
is it not terrible! All the finer ores are melted by the fire, the
earthy clay is hardened. Oh! God, forbid that this should continue to
be my doleful case! May I be like the gold and silver ore, when warmed
and heated by the fire of Thy loving-kindnesses, may I be melted,
fused, purified, refined, assimilated to Thy own holy nature! Oh! Lord,
soften, break, melt this hard heart of mine!"
If such a man so wrote, so felt, so condemned himself, what mortal on
earth can boast over what he is, or what he has done! The devoted,
self-sacrificing Duff trusted in nothing in himself, his only hope
of Heaven was in the Saviour who died for sinners, the blood which
cleanseth from guilt!
————————
CHAPTER XII.
A HOLIDAY WITHOUT REST.
When it became known in Scotland that Dr. Duff declined going home
to become Divinity Professor, he was urged at least to return for a
limited time. There was so much work to be done in Britain; so much
good, it was truly said, might result to the Missionary cause by Dr.
Duff's pleading for it again, as he had pleaded before. It is doubtful
whether Dr. Duff would have consented even to this, had he had health,
after ten years of hard labour in this second visit to India, to remain
without a change. But the doctor urged him to go home for a while after
work which had "evidently shattered his constitution," and Dr. Duff
submitted to what he felt to be the Will of the Lord. He gathered all
the information which he could regarding missions in various parts of
India to make use of in his addresses at home, and in May 1850 found
himself in his native land, and in the bosom of his family once more.
Again what might have been called the Missionary's holiday was employed
in the most earnest labours. In hurrying from place to place, from
meeting to meeting, the Missionary perhaps endured as much fatigue as
from the heavy work in India. Thus he wrote in the bitterly cold month
of November, when on one of his numerous journeys.
"Since I left the pulpit on Sunday I have scarcely yet got into
anything like warmth, either by night or day. I have felt as if the
cold were oozing through my whole body from head to foot . . . And what
with unseasoned rooms and unseasoned beds and frosty air, and chills
after full meetings, I feel as if it were a kind of living martyrdom
to be encountering all this . . . But most gladly would I bear all,
and a great deal more, if possible, for the sake of Him who so loved
us as to lay down His very life for us, were I to behold substantial
fruit to His praise and glory. I must however leave all to Him. My own
shortcomings are ever before me . . .
"Nothing sustains me but the divine assurance that the blood of Jesus
cleanseth from all sin. Blessed Saviour! Who would not cheerfully toil
and suffer for Thee!"
Dr. Duff, exhausted, yet struggling on still, thus wrote to his wife
when he was engaged on one of his preaching tours.
"It is some relief to the mind to get disburdened, and to whom can I
disburden it if not to you, the partner of my joys and sorrows for
nearly a quarter of a century. No one can over fully know how much I
often suffer both in mind and body in the midst of these frequent,
prolonged, and violent exertions: and to none but yourself can I ever
moot the subject except in the vaguest and most general terms. In the
excitement of speaking, the spirit forgets the fragility of the body,
and therefore people think me strong. Oh! if they could see me in my
solitary chamber all alone . . . the whole frame feverish, the whole
nervous system from the brain downwards in a state of total unrest. The
very tendency to sleep gone. Going to bed, as this morning, at half
past one, not from sleepiness but from inability to sit up longer from
exhaustion. Turning and tossing from side to side, and longing for
sleep . . . Getting up, disquieted and unrefreshed, to meet a company
at breakfast, with aching head besides and sorish throat . . . Yet,
the Lord be praised; in the midst of all this I have intervals of real
spiritual enjoyment, indeed, when most weak and pained often is that
enjoyment proportionally increased. And then the favour which the Lord
shows me in the sight of His people, and the good so often unexpectedly
achieved, all this makes me feel that what I suffer is the discipline
of a Father's rod to keep me humble in walking before him."
Exhausted as the Missionary was, he could not refuse what he felt to be
a call from God to visit America, as he was earnestly entreated to do.
"We want to be stirred up there; there is plenty of material there, we
need only to be stirred up," was the appeal which Dr. Duff could not
resist.
He knew that in two mighty countries of the West, the United States and
Canada, embers, as it were, of Christian love were smouldering that
might be stirred up into a glorious blaze to illumine half the world.
Duff's own heart was glowing with zeal, he must go, by God's grace,
to infuse his own warmth into others. The Missionary embarked on the
twenty-eighth January, 1854, for the United States of America.
Again was Dr. Duff to meet with tempest and tribulation, though not
this time with shipwreck. Such a gale came that, in the Missionary's
own words,—
"It looked at one time as if the vessel could not possibly survive
it . . . On Thursday morning the spectacle presented by the vessel was
most extraordinary. Though it still blew hard, the sky cleared with
intense frosty air, exhibiting the ship as if one huge mass of ice. The
deck was covered with it, several inches thick, the ropes, spars, and
rigging; the masts up to their sails, all well encrusted in ice from
two to six inches thick."
[Illustration: NEW YORK, UNITED STATES.]
It was doubtless a wondrous and beautiful sight that of a large ship
turned, as it seemed, into ice. But not only must the great cold have
destroyed anything like comfort, but the weight of the quantities of
ice sank the ship nine inches deeper in the water. Of course the hard
crust had to be knocked away, all hands were set to work to break off
the glittering masses; and we may hope that the violent exercise served
to warm the chilled crew of the ice-mantled ship.
When the vessel had almost reached the harbour, Dr. Duff thus wrote to
his wife.
"To the Lord do I give thanks. He hath brought us at last over the
stormy billows into a quiet haven. Nor has all this trial been in
vain. When downright ill, the mind was utterly incapable of thought,
but there were intervals when, in spite of the sick sensations, the
mind could variously exert itself. The whole of the past came up in
review before me, all the way in which the Lord hath led me. And Oh!
how humbling the retrospection as regards myself! The loving-kindnesses
of the Lord how manifold; my own shortcomings in every way how
manifold . . . In the end I had no consolation whatever but in clinging
as with a death grasp to the precious assurance that the blood of Jesus
Christ cleanseth from all sin . . . I thought that if never heard of
any more, and our vessel founder amid the stormy Atlantic waves, the
Lord might, in one way or other, overrule my death to the good of the
souls of the members of my family and raise up friends to them, and
ensure the furtherance of His own cause. On these points I came at
times to a serene feeling of resignation to His holy will. But, if
spared, Oh! how I longed to be a new burnished instrument in His hands.
I wait for guidance, I wait for light in the path of duty. Oh! for
simple single-heartedness, and self-denying devotion to Him that loveth
us!"
I will not attempt to give a detailed account of Dr. Duff's very
interesting visit to that grand country, the United States. He was
welcomed with a warmth and enthusiasm which quite astonished the
Missionary.
"Each one (in a large meeting) shook hands with me," he wrote, "as if I
were an old familiar friend, as if he knew all about me, and hailed me
as a brother in the Lord . . . I was lost in wonder, adoring gratitude,
and love. I approached these shores with much anxiety, in much fear and
trembling. I felt an oppressive uneasiness of spirit which I could not
shake off. My only relief was in casting myself entirely on the Lord,
and in praying His will might be done, and His only . . . Surely, I
felt, this unparalleled reception must be a first smile of Jehovah."
Indeed the loving kindness, the generous enthusiasm which Dr. Duff met
as he passed from city to city, and held crowded meeting after meeting
in the United States and the Dominion of Canada, was marvellous to
behold. If ever a man was half killed with kindness, that man was Dr.
Duff. Every one was so eager to hear him, so impatient to see him, that
his small remaining stock of strength was utterly overtaxed. He wrote,—
"I am driven in spite of myself, to do more than I know I can well
stand . . . If I could multiply myself into a hundred bodies, each with
the strength of a Hercules, and the mental and moral energy of a Paul,
I could not overtake the calls and demands made on me here, and from
many other quarters since my arrival . . . All very delightful, if I
had the needful strength. But no strength of any man that ever lived
would stand out all this . . . As regards this place I have abundant
satisfaction in already knowing that I have not come here in vain."
No, indeed, Dr. Duff had not come to the West in vain, his labours bore
rich and varied fruit. When he embarked again for home, a letter was
put into his hand containing £3000, or at least 30,000 rupees for the
missionary cause from New York and Philadelphia. Canada also gave her
cheerful aid, and this though Dr. Duff "had nowhere pleaded for money,"
and had only spoken of his own special work in India when pressed to
do so at social meetings. Nor were large subscriptions from various
quarters all the results of that memorable visit; American love for
missions had been stirred up to a blaze which has never since died out.
The United States still give some of their noblest sons and daughters
to work for the Lord in India, side by side with their brethren and
sisters from England and Scotland.
On the morning of his embarkation, Dr. Duff preached for the last time
in America to multitudes assembled to see him depart. With a loving
grateful heart he gave the people his solemn blessing, and all the
congregation rose to receive it. Then leaving the pulpit, and making
his way through crowds who pressed forward to have one more grasp of
his hand, the Missionary passed on to the steamer.
"There," wrote an eye-witness, "the scene defied description. The wharf
and the noble 'Pacific' were crowded with Christians assembled to bid
him farewell. Many could only take him by the hand, weep and pass
on. Never did any man leave our shores so encompassed with Christian
sympathy and affection."
Dr. Duff's visit to America had been a glorious success, but a heavy
price was to be paid for it by the exhausted Missionary. After his
return home, Dr. Duff became fearfully ill. Congestion of the brain,
followed by utter prostration of the over-worked mind, made the once
powerful and talented man helpless as a little child. It was a cause
of deep thankfulness, after a long space of time had elapsed, to find
that the grand mind was not permanently impaired, that the brain was
recovering its power.
————————
CHAPTER XIII.
IN INDIA AGAIN.
Long as it was before the invalid regained the power to work, with that
power came the renewed desire to labour in India. Dr. Duff never forgot
that beloved land. How the Missionary felt may be shown by part of a
letter written in 1853, before his last severe illness, to one of the
Indian converts.
"Separated from you in body I am continually with you in spirit, in the
Institution and among your classes. If I am remaining in this country
longer than I had expected, it is only for the sake of India's welfare.
For India is ever uppermost in my mind, and my prayer to God is that
she may yet be 'great, glorious and free.'"
At last the earnest desire of the Missionary to return to his post
overcame all obstacles. On the 13th of October, 1855, for the third and
last time Dr. Duff started for India. He was still in weak health, but
the spirit firm and brave as ever. We can imagine the welcome which he
received from his Calcutta children in Christ.
Here an anecdote may be introduced which shows that Dr. Duff's power
to draw out sympathy and liberality, was not limited to times when he
addressed Europeans, Americans or Native Christians. At a period when
grievous famine desolated part of India, Dr. Duff was requested by a
wealthy Baboo to make an address on the subject in his house. The upper
part of the dwelling was occupied by native ladies, who behind their
purdah could listen without being seen. Gentle is the heart of the
Hindu; Dr. Duff spoke not to those who were so full of their own cares
or pleasures that they could not feel for others. Plates of rupees
were brought down from the ladies for the relief of the sufferers from
famine.
A very terrible time for India was at hand, when the Missionary
returned to her shores. In May 1857 the fearful Mutiny broke out. We
will not dwell upon the story of horrors, a glimpse of which has been
given in the 7th chapter. Calcutta was full of disturbance and alarm.
Dr. and Mrs. Duff lived in the native part of the city, entirely
unprotected. Their friends implored them to retire to a safer place.
But the brave pair thought it better to remain at their post of duty.
Dr. Duff and other clergymen went on with their work.
One Sunday there was a very great panic in Calcutta; the Duffs and but
one other couple had the courage to remain in their dangerous quarters.
But, as the Missionary wrote, "Faith in Jehovah as our Refuge and
Strength led us to cling to our post, and we laid us down to sleep as
usual; and on Monday morning my remark was, 'well, I have not enjoyed
such a soft, sweet, refreshing rest for weeks past!' Oh! how our own
hearts rose in adoring gratitude to Him who is the keeper of Israel,
and who slumbers not, nor sleeps!"
Dr. Duff's Bengal Mission went on growing; it was remarked that it
had never been so prosperous as in the Mutiny year. In his College
and School about twelve hundred lads assembled, receiving freely
instruction in science and in the Christian religion. The Hindus
themselves were astonished at the large blessing vouchsafed by God to
the work.
In 1861 Dr. Duff had the grief of losing his spiritual son, the Rev.
Gopinath Nundi, whose sufferings and heroism in the Mutiny have already
been related. The touching words in which the Missionary wrote of the
departed convert, show how dear his native pupil was to his heart.
"Little did I dream when parting with him then that it was the last
time I was to gaze on that mild but earnest countenance. Little did
I dream when we knelt down together, hand in hand, in my study, to
commend each other to the Father of spirits, it was the last time we
should meet till we hail each other, before the throne on high, as
redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. But so it has proved. I mourn over
him as I would over an only son, till at times my eyes are sore with
weeping. It is not the sorrow of repining at the dispensation of a
gracious God and loving Father, Oh! no! but the outburst and overflow
of affectionate grief for one whom I loved as my own soul. But he has
gone to his rest, and to his glorious reward!"
Two years more of earnest, successful labour, and Dr. Duff's own
working days in India were over. In the month of July, 1863, dysentery
again laid him low. To save the Missionary's life, the doctors hurried
him off on a sea-voyage to China. This remedy was insufficient, and
the devoted Duff himself saw that after nearly a third of a century of
almost perpetual work, it was the Master's will that His servant should
retire at last. Sore must have been the struggle in his mind, but Duff
was trained to believe that in all things God knows best. Bitter was
the trial of parting to the many natives of India who honoured and
loved him, bitter to the Missionary himself.
The following is part of his reply to an address from a Society
representing all educated non-Christian Bengal. It expresses the
feelings with which this apostle of India quitted her shores for ever.
He comforted himself with the hope of that day when the Gospel shall
spread through the length and breadth of the earth.
"That bright and glorious era for India and the world I have long seen
in the vision of faith. The vividly real hope of it has often sustained
me amid toils and sufferings, calamities and reproaches, disappointment
and reverse. And the assured prospect of its ultimate realisation
helps now to shoot some gleams of light athwart the darkness of my
horizon, and so far to blunt the keen edge of grief and sadness when
about to bid a final adieu to these long-loved Indian shores . . .
Some of you may live to witness not merely its blissful dawn, but its
meridian effulgence; to me that privilege will not be vouchsafed. My
days are already in the sere and yellow leaf . . . the sap and vigour
of summer's out-bursting fulness have well-nigh gone, leaving me dry
and brittle like a withered herb or flower at the close of autumn; the
hoar frost of old age, age prematurely old, grim wintry old age is fast
settling down upon me. But whether, under the ordinance of the High and
Holy One who inhabiteth eternity, my days be few or many, whether my
old age be one of decrepitude or of privileged usefulness, my best and
latest thoughts will be of India. Wherever I wander, wherever I rest,
my heart will be still in India."
So, attended by sorrowing, weeping friends, the wearied wasted
Missionary went down to the ghaut, and embarked for Britain. Oh! What
tear-dimmed eyes watched him as the vessel weighed anchor, and followed
him as the ship moved farther and farther away, which bore from his
Indian children their friend and father! At last it was seen no more!
Dr. Duff had departed, but never to be forgotten; perhaps to this day
there is no man's name remembered in India with deeper reverence and
love, than that of the devoted Missionary, the gifted teacher, the
Christian hero whose story we are relating.
————————
CHAPTER XIV.
A GOLDEN SUNSET.
[Illustration]
As this little book is specially designed to tell of Dr. Duff's mission
work in India, no account need be given of his many labours after
quitting her shore. This however must be said, that if Dr. Duff had
reached "grim wintry old age," in that season, his life bore richer
fruit to the glory of God and the good of man, than one mortal out of
a thousand brings forth during life's whole year. And on what labours,
and what success the noble Duff could look back, since in youth's
springtime he gave himself to the Lord!
In Calcutta, instead of the hired house which could not hold all his
pupils so that they had to come in relays, in a splendid building,
which cost 150,000 rupees, multitudes have received instruction. A
proud man, in Duff's place, might have exclaimed: "Lo! Where I went
forth alone, in the single Free Church Mission to which I belong, there
have been in the last half-century one hundred and fifteen Scottish,
and forty-four Native Missionaries, some still on earth, and some now
in glory; of these how many did 'I' draw to the work! There were in
1830 'two' primary schools in Bombay and Calcutta, now behold 'two
hundred and ten' Colleges and Schools in the land, in which more than
fifteen thousand youths and girls can hear the glad news of salvation;
how many of these institutions owe their beginning to me! The Free
Church of Scotland alone has numbered 6,458 adult converts; how many of
them were as sheaves gathered by me! And this is but a part of my work.
If a stream of liberality flows in the channel of missions, not only in
my own land but in others, how often have the springs which feed them
been opened by me!"
But we cannot even imagine the lowly Missionary uttering such words of
pride, or even in thought exulting presumptuously in the success which
he owed to the blessing of God. This is his own idea of what would be a
suitable inscription on his tomb.
"Here lies Alexander Duff, by nature and practice a sinful guilty
creature, but saved through grace, through faith in the blood and
righteousness of his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."
And were aught to be added to such an inscription, Dr. Duff would have
it but this: "by profession a Missionary; by his life and labours the
true and constant friend of India."
A heavy affliction came to Dr. Duff before he was called to his
heavenly rest. Early in 1865 the light of his eyes, the joy of his
heart, his beloved wife, sank to sleep in Jesus. Dr. Duff, as we have
seen, was a man of very keen feelings, and sore must have been his
grief as he stood by the grave of her of whom he thus wrote:
"My faithful loving spouse, my other half, who sustained and cheered
and comforted me, and was not only the life of my dwelling but my very
home itself, . . . is gone! She is not, for God hath taken her to the
temple above, to serve and enjoy Him there for ever."
The aged Christian did not mourn as those without hope. As he writes in
a letter to his sorrowing son:
"What my own feelings are I dare not venture to attempt to describe,
nor would I if I could. The union cemented by upwards of thirty eight
years of a strangely eventful life, in many climes and amid many perils
and trials and joys, so suddenly so abruptly brought to a final close
in this world; Oh! it is agony to look on in itself. But when I turn to
the Saviour, and the saintly one now in glory, I do see the dark cloud
so lustred with the rainbow of hope and promise, that I cannot but
mingle joy with my sorrow, and we can all unite in praising the Lord
for His goodness, His marvellous loving-kindnesses towards me in the
hour of our sore trial."
But one more scene shall be given from the life of Dr. Duff,—and that
scene is the last. In 1878 the aged Christian became so ill, that his
second son was summoned by telegraph from India. He arrived in time to
join with Dr. Duff's daughter and grandson in loving ministry to the
dying saint. The old Missionary's sun was calmly, peacefully setting,
amidst clouds of glory. When the first joy of seeing his son was over,
the pilgrim so near the end of his journey said, "I am in God's hands
to go or stay; if He has need of me He will raise me up, if otherwise
it is far better."
Thoughtful to the last of his friends, Dr. Duff dictated a list of
about fifty persons to whom he wished books to be sent as a dying
remembrance from him. When told that the doctor thought ill of his
case, quietly the sufferer replied, "I never said with more calmness
in my life, continually by day and by night, 'Thy will, my God, my God
be done!' In my own mind I see the whole scheme of redemption from
eternity more clear and glorious than I ever did."
Yes, it was on the perfect sacrifice Christ, the son of God, that the
eyes of the dying believer were fixed.
Dr. Duff's daughter repeated the beautiful hymn,—
"How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
To a believer's ear,
It soothes his sorrow, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear."
The voice of Dr. Duff, so soon to be hushed in silence, exclaimed with
emphasis, "unspeakable!"
Truly the Christian, whether living or dying, in that blessed name can
rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory!
The Twenty-third Psalm was afterwards repeated by Dr. Duff's daughter
to her dying father, as he lay apparently unconscious. But life was
lingering yet, he responded at the end of each verse. How blessed when
believers, passing through the valley of the shadow of death, can
realise as the Missionary did, "I will fear no evil, for Thou art with
me!"
At last the once eloquent lips that so often had pleaded with and for
the sons of India, could utter no word more, yet still the departing
saint knew the voices of those whom he loved, and he showed his
consciousness by a tender grasp of the hand. The sun of life was
slowly, calmly disappearing behind the horizon. The voice of the Master
whom Duff had deeply loved and faithfully served, was bidding him come
up higher. The disciple was laying down the cross for ever, to receive
the heavenly crown. And so, in perfect peace, Alexander Duff sank
to rest. We cannot follow his enraptured spirit as it rose from the
slumbering clay, nor conceive the bliss which awaits him when the body
too shall rise in the Resurrection-day!
"Fulness of joy! on Christ's right hand to hear
Love's invitation to draw yet more near,—
Ye blessed children—come!"
And now the story of Alexander Duff's life has been briefly told. It
only remains to add a few words to the reader.
If you are not yet a follower of the Lord Jesus, if you are not yet
assured that Christianity is of God, pause and look at the picture of a
believer which has been placed before you. Was it mere natural goodness
of heart that made Dr. Duff what he was? What nerved him to moot
difficulties, danger, distress with unflinching courage; what made him
not count his life dear to himself? What made him patient in trouble,
and humble in triumph, working like a giant, yet trusting like a child?
Do such fruits naturally grow on the trees of earth, and if not, must
they not have a heavenly origin? Duff could have given the answer, "I
live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me."
Duff's course was upward, onward, heavenward, because he was following
the steps of the Saviour, and pressing forward looking unto Jesus.
Reader! If you be a believer, then there is also a word for you. Has
not your conscience reproached you while reading the life of Dr. Duff?
Is not his life and death a call to us not to stand idly looking on
while labourers are sorely wanted in the Lord's great harvest field?
Is there no sheaf which you can bind, is there no work which you can
do? Does not the example before you rouse your languid spirit like the
blast of a trumpet? Rise and be doing for the time is short; use your
talents, be they few or many, to the sole glory of Him who gave them;
the fountain from which Alexander Duff drew strength is open to you,
the bliss upon which he has entered you may share; waiting, working,
praying, praising, you too, with him may swell the victor's song,
giving "glory, honour, thanksgiving and praise to Him who sitteth on
the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever!"
————————
[Illustration: EDINBURGH, THE CAPITAL OF SCOTLAND.]
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