Seedtime in Kashmir: A Memoir of William Jackson Elmslie

by William Jackson Elmslie

When William first entered school he only felt in part the power of this remarkable man, but when promoted to the advanced classes, directly under Melvin's care, the enthusiasm of his nature was stirred, and his mind yielded itself to be moulded by him. He owed much of his success at college, and of his power in mastering languages, to the very careful mental training received from Melvin. "He gave us hard work," he said, "but it was intense enjoyment, for one's mind was strengthened, expanded, and in the truest, fullest meaning of the word, educated." During his first year William was often down-cast, for school life was new to him, and he felt himself far behind others of his age. However, he resolved to do his best, and to make the most of the much-prized privileges so long denied him. During holiday time, when others were at play, he was at his books; and not in vain, for at the beginning of his second year he gained by competition a bursary that helped to relieve him from pecuniary anxieties. By the end of the next session he stood high in his classes, and carried off the first prize in Greek. The Rev. Mr. Salmond, Free Church, Barry, one of William's friends at school and college, writes thus of these early days:–"We were close companions and studied very much together in private as well as in public. These were ever-memorable days, rich in generous friendships and affluent also with what should have been most helpful for the up-building of manly moral character and energetic intellectual life, when Dr. Melvin kept the youngest of us in fixed devotion to the genius of the Latin tongue, and when, after the decease of that unique master, Professor Geddes made us all a-glow with his own enthusiasm, and fired us with the classic spirit of Greek. Into what was best, in these buoyant and productive times of earliest mental discipline and most unselfish companionships, William Elmslie threw himself with all his heart, and was a friend to most. His position, too, was in some respects peculiar among us. His seriousness was more marked, and his independent spirit and his determination to do everything for himself, and to make the utmost of his opportunities, had methods of expressing themselves which were altogether his own. Commencing his course at a somewhat more advanced age than most of us, and possessing the advantage of having learned a trade, he used to excite our admiration by the sturdy diligence with which he toiled to support himself, in a way which many a silly youth would have counted beneath him, and also, in truth, our envy at the ability which he had thus acquired to possess himself of books beyond the reach of others. I well remember how ambitious some of us were to get a week's loan of some of his laboriously-earned treasures, and how ready he was to indulge us in that line of things. Thus it happened that, in addition to the text-books usually studied at that stage in Greek and Latin, not a few boys of some thirteen or fourteen years of age voluntarily mastered volumes ordinarily reserved for a later period,–such as "Zumpt's Grammar," "Döderlein's Synonyms," "Ramshorn's Synonyms," the first part of "Jelf's Greek Grammar,"[1] &c. And for a certain measure of the attainments aimed at and made by a good many beyond the stated requirements of the classes in these and other branches, we were indebted not a little to the stimulus of his example as well as to his willingness to help others with his books and counsel. His own acquirements in Latin were very considerable, and to Greek also he took with a burning affection and a determined perseverance, which might have led him on to distinguished results had the opportunity of continuing his studies been given him in Providence. In these youthful days, in short, the great features of character, which appeared subsequently in his work in a distant country, and in taxing circumstances, were the very qualities that constrained respect from all his comrades in school and college,–his readiness to take in hand all kinds of honest labour, manual and mental, his patient dedication to the task of the time, his thirst for knowledge, his zeal in helping others, and the hearty and fearless interest which he displayed all through his course in every decidedly religious movement. This last made him a somewhat outstanding member of our student-circles, and rendered the impression which he left upon his associates a very happy one."

When William got in some measure abreast of his school-fellows in learning, he rejoiced to join them in the playground in every manly sport. His hard work never inclined him to mope. With his whole heart he threw himself into the game. Of cricket he was particularly fond, and the company of which he was a member was called the "Thistle Club." He stood A-1 at bowling. He could not endure those meandering, sneaking balls that creep in upon you at unawares. No; the enemy got fair warning. Drawing himself well up, the body thrown back, and the lips compressed, he took careful aim; then off shot the ball, swift and straight as an arrow; and when he heard the delightsome clatter of the tumbling wickets, he cut a demi-somersault, and sang out merrily, "Nemo me impune lacessit."

It was near the close of William's fourth session at school that the death of the reverend rector took place. He fell paralysed to the ground one day while engaged in his classroom, and William Elmslie was one of the sorrowing pupils who helped to bear the almost lifeless form to his home,–not many days later to be borne thence to its narrow bed in the churchyard. William never ceased to be thankful that so much of his student life had been passed under an influence so beneficial, being deeply conscious of having gained in the Grammar School of Aberdeen such a mental training as enabled him to grapple with, and to overcome, the intellectual difficulties which, in after days, he had to encounter.

In November 1853, he passed from school to college; and with no little pride and pleasure his mother saw him don the scarlet cloak worn by the students of King's College, Aberdeen. "It was there," writes his friend, the Rev. Andrew Ritchie of Coull, "that I first met with William Elmslie. We were students of the same year, and I shared the same room with him in his parents' house. We both worked hard. It was no unusual thing for us to restrict ourselves to five hours' sleep. We engaged a watchman to waken us at three o'clock every morning; and we took it in turn to rise first, kindle the fire, and boil the coffee, which Mrs. Elmslie had made ready the night before. After enjoying a slice of bread and that good, warm coffee, we began our day's work. William was always prayerful and earnest, and from the very first we engaged in devotions together, as well as separately; it was our delight to talk of Christ, and of our desire to devote ourselves to his cause.

"William's work was harder than mine, for his father's failing health and eyesight made him now more and more dependent on his son's exertions. On this account, William undertook an engagement to teach in a school in Aberdeen, and he had also several private pupils. Being a first-rate student, and of gentlemanly manners, he had no difficulty in getting as much employment of this kind as he wished; but the constant hard work and severe study told on his health, and, at the close of the second session at college, he was forced to obey doctor's injunctions, and to seek rest and country air."

He spent some time with relatives in Elgin, and in the neighbourhood of Inverness, and returned, strengthened in mind and body, to take up again the double burden of supporting his parents and maintaining himself at college. Sometimes when his prospects were peculiarly dark, and he needed sympathy, friends took the occasion to urge him to give up the struggle altogether, and turn aside to something that would be immediately remunerative. He had a hard time of it when passing through his philosophical classes. To most honest, earnest students, this is a season of much conflict, and Mr. Elmslie's circumstances did not tend to make the doubts and temptations that usually encompass it easily borne. Sometimes, when he knelt to pray, troop after troop of doubts rushed in upon him, and made such assaults on his long cherished beliefs, that he gradually ceased to plead with God, and entered into regular mental warfare, becoming altogether unconscious of his kneeling posture. Recovering himself, he was shocked at his irreverence; tried to smooth himself down and feel solemn, but in the stillness a withering chill stole over him as if he were encircled by a boundless nothing. The "Eternal Silences" sent very cheerless responses to the groans that burst from his burdened spirit. With keen powers of analysis, and a slight tendency to introspection, it will be believed that such battles were not infrequent. It is needless to ask, in surprise, "But was he not a Christian?" Yes; but a far older and more experienced Christian was so puzzled by the mysteries of Providence that he exclaimed, "As for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had wellnigh slipped." Mr. Elmslie's feet were on the rock, but he staggered greatly notwithstanding. Through all his varied forms of trial, his mother stood by him to sustain and cheer; and when his philosophic perplexities went beyond her depth, she at least could sympathise and pray. He used to say "that a mother's sympathy, if she had a Mary's faith, was the greatest blessing a young man could possess when first installed into the mysteries of philosophy." The mother and son had, all through, an unwavering conviction that God intended him for a higher form of service than boot-closing, and therefore trials did not discourage so much as might have been expected; for they were regarded as a fatherly discipline; a preparation for future usefulness, upon which they ceased not to ask the Divine blessing.

Having taken his degree in arts, he felt anxious, before deciding on a further course of study, to see something of the world, and to have a change from the scene of so much labour. He therefore gladly accepted a proposal to go abroad as tutor in the family of an Aberdeenshire gentleman, who was to spend the following winter in Italy. It was a curious fact which he sometimes quoted as an instance of God's overruling even our failings as a means of carrying out His own plan of our lives, that this gentleman's choice of him as tutor for his sons was caused by a preference for his handwriting, the very point on which he was most conscious of deficiency.

The year spent in Italy was not one of much enjoyment. William's sensitive nature suffered acutely in this first experience of life among strangers, and his position was rendered more trying and lonely from a misunderstanding between him and the father of his pupils. Nevertheless the lessons in human nature, and the experience of the world gained there, proved invaluable to him ever after.

Here, too, his self-reliance was strengthened, and he gained a firmer conviction of God's power to give him joy and peace, however untoward his outward circumstances might be.

In Florence he had the great privilege of meeting with some very helpful Christian friends, among whom was the Rev. Mr. Hannah, a young Irish clergyman, who had been appointed to minister to the English residents in that lovely city. William spent much of his spare time with this dear servant of God, who was then drawing very near the close of his service on earth, and was fast ripening for glory. The Spirit of God seemed to reveal to him much of what eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, and for which he was being made ready. To all who then ministered to him much blessing was given, and William richly shared it in a realisation of the unseen and the eternal such as he had never known before. During Mr. Hannah's illness, William agreed to relieve his mind of anxiety by conducting Sabbath services for his little congregation. He read to them some of his favourite sermons, such as Chalmers on "The expulsive power of a new affection;" Caird on the "Solitariness of our Lord's sufferings;" and Maclaren on the "Soul's thirst after God." The Rev. Mr. Macdougall, who relieved him of his position some six weeks later, used laughingly to say that Mr. Elmslie had quite spoiled the people, for they would never listen to any ordinary man's sermons after having enjoyed those intellectual feasts. William returned to England in June 1858, and in London heard an encouraging sermon from the Rev. Dr. Hamilton from a text well suited to his circumstances, "Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you."