Lean months tested the spirit of the Training Home. Though there was nothing to eat but a plate of cabbage-soup and a potato, the cadets never murmured. "C'est la vie apostolique," they cheerfully said one to another. And it was easy to bear any hardship when their leader shared it with them. One who was an officer with her for years wrote: "In all things she was our example. If you wished to incur her displeasure, you had but to give her something to eat which the workers did not have. As she was in delicate health, sometimes those around her would try to get a little luxury to tempt her appetite or strengthen her. They would be met with the answer: 'Whatever is this? It is not for me, I hope, because, though it is very good of you, I did not want it, and will not have anything of the sort.' Then she would share it all round."
Whenever it became known that the exchequer was almost empty, the officers and cadets knew that this was a call to prayer. On one occasion the rents of the Rue Auber and Quai de Valmy halls were due; there was nothing to meet them; and there were but three days of grace. These were days of agony. All the officers who had anything to spare gave it. The children in the orphanage gave three francs and ten centimes. But when the best had been done, not a tithe of the necessary 3000 francs was in hand.
Everybody met for prayer. The Maréchale spoke on the words, "Though the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ... the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: yet will I rejoice in the Lord." She rang the changes on that "rejoice," asking, "Are we there?" Yes, they were all there—anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer with thanksgiving telling God their needs.
At such times the leader of the little band felt that God had to take care of His name, His honour; He had to send what was required. Who will call such a faith in question? Did not the German people say of Luther, "Look, there is the man who gets from God whatever he asks?" When the Maréchale was travelling with her secretary in a third-class carriage in the West of France, the poor people got in with their baskets of vegetables, and one of them said in a loud whisper, "Take care what you say; these people when they pray get from God all they want."
To return. On the morning of the last day of grace the Maréchale received a letter from Scotland containing a draft for £100, a "God bless you," and nothing more. She never knew what kind human heart had been moved to send the letter. But she never doubted that God had sent it.
Such occurrences were not solitary. Here is the testimony of M. Grandjean, who was for years one of the Maréchale's best officers. "I think with gratitude to God of the difficult days in which our faith was severely tested, when I was cashier in Quai de Valmy, and I had not a shilling, and we had to pay the 6000 francs for rents and other expenses. I shall never forget my overwhelming joy when one night I appealed to the cadets who could pray with faith, and when five or six of us prayed with me in the little kitchen of the Quai de Valmy. The next day the Maréchale received by the first post a cheque of 6000 francs from some one who did not know that we were in need."
In one of her tournées the Maréchale was labouring down in the South of France. Though she was in the greatest need and had a heavy heart, she went on with her meetings, when a lady who had been wonderfully blessed, and two of whose children had been saved through her ministry, was moved to give her a thankoffering of 5000 francs. Having to travel all night on the way back to Paris, and finding herself alone among a lot of working-men the Maréchale put the money in her bosom and prayed, "Now keep Thy little one," but did not dare to sleep.
Among the Army's unfailing supporters in France were the Maréchale's personal friends. One of the dearest of these was Madame de Bunsen, née Waddington, who wrote In Three Legations. They first met in Cannes, where the Maréchale was conducting a campaign in the theatre; and a great bundle of letters, partly in French and partly in English, testifies to the warmth of their friendship. Madame de Bunsen once persuaded the Maréchale to rest for some weeks in her castle on the Rhine; and another time she tried to induce her to visit Florence, but the Maréchale could never quite get over the feeling that taking holidays was backsliding.
Another of her constant supporters was Mr. Frank Crossley, that high-souled man of business whose Life has been admirably written by Rendel Harris. Soon after the Maréchale went to France he wrote to express his "ardent sympathy" with her work. "I have," he said, "met and known well several Christian workers—D. L. Moody, Miss Ellice Hopkins, Miss Mittendorff, and others—but I will tell you that perhaps none of these have created the same impression that you have done."
In one of her last letters she wrote "Tell me, how is it that what seems so far off to us is near to you." She was a beautiful soul and found peace in Christ.