Missionary Views — Inquiries as to Mission-Fields — Refusal of a Home-Field — Resolution to Settle in Paris

FROM his childhood, as we have noticed, he had a missionary life in view; and no doubt his mother’s teaching had borne fruit. Such feelings spring up in various ways in the members of Christian families at a very early age. Sometimes it is a family conversation that sets their curiosity on edge; sometimes it is a public address which they happen to hear; sometimes it is a book of missionary work; sometimes it is the example of an acquaintance, older than themselves, setting out on the noble enterprise; sometimes it seems to be the direct but unconscious stirrings of the Divine Spirit; and sometimes it comes in a sort of hereditary way through fathers or grandfathers, who have trodden the missionary path before and left an

example of self-sacrifice to their children’s children.

I remember one, who went to be with Christ some thirty years ago, his missionary longings all unfulfilled, and himself spared only to do a little work at home. He was in humble life, and had been brought to know the Son of God while yet a mere youth, owing his piety to the teaching of a holy mother. A companion, somewhat older than himself, had been roused to yearn over foreign heathendom by reports of missionary societies, and had gone forth in the prime of his manhood to the South Sea Islands. His public statements and private letters relating the wonderful success which had followed his labours set his friend’s soul on fire, and he prepared to follow. The islands of the Southern hemisphere, — these were continually in his thoughts by day, and in his dreams by night! An island for himself he must have; an island which should owe all to him; of which he should be spiritual king and father. Often did he pray that such an island might be given him, and he talked about it as if it were already his. That fair Southern island, how it brightened to his fancy I How his eye glistened as he spoke of it. But he never reached it. He was cut off when his desires seemed on the point of being fulfilled, and the “island of the blest” was just coming into view. He died at home, and lies buried, not uider the palm or the plantain of a Southern sun, but in a Scottish

Missionary Viezus. 1 5 1

churchyard. For years he had prayed for these far-off islands, which he was not destined to see. But his prayers have not gone up in vain.

I give here the following statement regarding Mr. Dodds’ early longings: —

“From infancy, we may say, he desired to be a missionary. When six years old his mother used to find him crying in his bed, and on asking the reason, he would say, ‘I’m afraid I’ll never be good enough to be a missionary.’

“Perhaps the family traditions of that mother, now in glory, may have had much to do with this early desire. Her stories were all of Russia, the Circassians, and Astrakan, where her parents laboured for years at what seemed an almost fruitless task. A few converts did reward their labours, but each, as soon as his profession was made known, was drafted away by Government to some distant part of the country, and never heard of more. Mr. Dickson translated the Bible into Tartar- Turkish. His whole family had the gift of learning languages (talked in Turkish, Tartar, Russian), which descended on his grandson. At last, after enduring many hardships and going through much sorrow, the missionaries were expelled from the country, and the Dicksons returned to Scotland in poverty and broken health. Mr. and Mrs. Dickson died within a few weeks of each other, leaving a family of young daughters unprovided for. To the eyes of men this was ’ a failure; ’ just as even to worldly men, the Paris Mission may appe.ir ‘a success.’ But how much of this success arose out of that apparent failure — eternity alone will show.

“His short work in Paris was the work of one who had ’ counted the cost ’ whatever it might be. Its foundations were laid in those depths of conflict and prayer which few knew. He was prepared to encounter difiiculties, or lay down life itself in the cause of Christ. To outsiders it perhaps appeared that Paris involved a lighter sacrifice than India and China would have done, as if he might have worked there a time, and withdrawn when weary; but to himself it never appeared less than his whole lifework, for which everything else must be given up if need be. ‘The call is, Go,’ he said, ’ and &o few go.’ So few go was his constant plea. The duty of going seemed clear — the where was long doubtful. His health seemed unfit for any trying climate; also the posts ofi“ered to him were chiefly educational. France had never occurred to his mind till the autumn of 1876.”

The missionary longing never left him during all his subsequent years of study; and it helped greatly to mould his college life. He studied languages diligently and largely, not only to gratify an irresistible philological taste, but to fit himself for the special calling to which he had from childhood devoted himself. He had no fixed plan of work in view, nor any special thought as to where his lot might be cast. It might be India or Africa, or the South Sea Islands. He had settled nothing in his own mind. Indeed an inward conflict, which partook in some degree of the desponding, was going on at this time. He was ready for any opening, and shrank from no hardship. His health, however, had to be consulted. He was not robust, though he enjoyed on the whole very tolerable health. Headaches often prostrated him, and asthmatic and aguish affections troubled him. A dry, bracing climate, even though cold, suited him best; and hence in after years he stood both the heats and colds of Paris, because they were both dry; while the moist air of Lyons, where he was for seven weeks, nearly knocked him up. The banks of the Rhone were not so salubrious to him as those of the Seine.

I had better introduce here the following letters relative to his missionary views and mental struggles. The first seems to be written early in his course of study, to his parents, but is undated: —

“I have been suflFering much from mental despondency and depression. Perhaps the reason of these attacks is that my studies are all alone, and as I have been reading in some of the deepest mysteries of the Christian faith, without any one to speak to, the self-introspection becomes morbid and hurtful. I have not been myself at all for the last few weeks. I often think over the future of my life and my calling as a Christian minister, and if anything is necessary in the present day, it is a thorough realisation of a personal union with Christ, for I become more and more convinced that that alone can give any one strength to combat the endless errors and wretchedness of our day; and I tremble to go out with such educated unbelief and insidious infidelity abroad.* I suppose that it is the study of these errors, and the thought of having to cope with them, that weighs upon my mind, till it is almost unbearable. I might say to myself,

* The “educated unbelief and insidious infidelity” which he dreaded were “putting forth their feelers” in the denial of the supernatural, and in the efforts to erase the miraculous from Scripture. To get quit of God in some way or other he saw to be the aim of advanced thought.

give up these studies; but I know my mind cannot do this, and as a young man must be in this atmosphere, must feel its influence either for good or bad, I see that I must not shirk my duty.

“I think it is time you knew of a subject which is always before my mind, namely, that of going out as a missionary. I cannot say where, but it is ever present before me, and I am sure that God’s hand is in it, though there may be a measure of youthful enthusiasm in it. I think that I am more suited for this than for staying at home. I do not think I am strong enough, or have mind enough, to stand the strain of two sermons a week in such an age as this, and I might devote my energy, such as it is, to the mission-field. I feel that that is to be my position, and I know that I shall have it made plain to me. If you object, of course that must be taken into consideration, but I think that even at this stage you should know my intention, which is a suflBciently serious one.

“I hope that all the trials and unspeakable mental doubt and anguish I have come through will fit me to be a guide to others.”

His home-letters were very numerous; and at this time very full of his missionary longings. His unwillingness to give pain to loving relatives comes out strongly; along with his calm resolution to carry out his early longings for the missionary field. Affectionately and confidentially he consults his father; yet he does not leave him in any doubt as to what his purpose was. He has weighed the whole matter. He has counted the cost. He asks sympathy and guidance. The following is part of a letter on this subject to his father: — “St. Mart’s, Yarrow, 2nd July, 1874. “Secondly, — About what I am to do when my course is through. You know I have long felt drawn to the mission-field. It has been a life-long cherished desire. I never had any distinct attraction to stay at home; and the feeling becomes stronger the older I grow. I felt so bitterly the wrench it would be to leave you all, that when I tried several times last spring to make up my mind to speak to you on it, I could not do it. But I should like to have the matter settled, for then I would devote myself entirely to studying for it, and otherwise preparing; one would need to know the outs and ins of mission life, and there are plenty opportunities in Edinburgh for it, and two sessions are not very long to leave for that. The more I think of it the more I am sure that any talent I have will not be as a preacher, but as a teaching missionary, looking after young men or girls. And I feel sure this is God’s call to me. If God calls me I cannot stand back. No one has ever persuaded me; no one knew it till I told them, and the most who do know are against it. So few go out that there is all the more reason for my going.”

The next is if possible more decided, and with great tenderness and beauty refers to parental feeling on this subject: —

“St. Mart’s, Yarrow, 9th July, 1874.

“Mt dear Papa, — I got your letter yesterday, and am glad you have written so distinctly and decidedly. Such a letter helps one to decide. Of course you will not expect me to be able to make up my mind what I should do at once. I will require time. If a father’s keenest feelings were to be a practical barrier, then no missionaries would ever go out. Every missionary has to encounter a like dissuasive; you do not know that the one distinct desire that I can look back upon during my life has been this one, and it has always grown with life. This, of course, must prevent my coming to any sudden change of purpose; you cannot make an end of a leaning that has grown out of, and then into, your very heart, taking such entire possession of it that you and it were one. And I must say that I consider this to be a direct Divine call; I cannot simply feel otherwise, so miserably few go out. Dr. Carstairs Douglas could not get one the other year for China from our colleges, which I cannot help thinking a very discreditable thing. I am saying all this, not as answer to your objections, but to show you the way it has presented itself to me for now a long time since.

“I must close, and only wish to say that I do entreat you not to take this to heart too much; if God leads me, I must go, if not, I will stay. Your views may change my will and resolution, but they can never change the life-long wish that I never expect to leave me during my life.”

The next brings in some communications he had
received in reference to the foreign field: —

“4:th April, 1875. — I send you the note Dr. Murray Mitchell sent me. If God’s voice is so strong in calling me, what can I do? Are there not so few, so very few going? Is it not the Church’s first duty, nay, privilege to spread the Gospel abroad? I think He wishes us to pray very often about this, to put it continually as the great matter under His eye, and to ask that we may be guided so certainly by His unerring hand, and that it shall be made so clear to us, and so much God’s will to our friends and relations, that there the hard trial may be taken away too. I am sure God will guide us, but we must not let this surety be our rest; it is rather in prayer, and daily committal of this thing to Him that we shall be guided.”

“11^^ August, 1875. — I feel I should keep my mind open, and not decide until my examinations are over. I told Dr. M. Mitchell so. Dr. Duff was there at the time; they said they would not press it, and would wait for an answer until my session was completed. Yet the call, as I have heard it before, and

DOW as it comes again, is as imperative as ever, and as distinctly God’s as ever. Let us ever bear this request earnestly and increasingly before Him who has sent His call, that He would lead us in ’ the right way,’ the ordij path He means us to take. I have cast the burden on Him, and it is sweet to have done so. Let us pray that if we do go, it may be clear to all that the call is God’s, and then all will be light, and He will surely make our darkness to be marvellous light. He cannot fail to direct our steps, and choose out our inheritance for us.”

“lili August, 1875. — Not merely a right way, but the right way, — there being only one, Ps. cvii. 7. How often have I read these verses over and over again when I was tired and perplexed, and always got comfort from them.

“I had some pleasant visiting yesterday, and a few trials in it, which have done me good. I wish I were more courageous. Why I should tremble and feel inclined to flee every time I ring a bell I don’t know. I am naturally unfitted for such work. I cannot help thinking that teaching is really my work; it is not so ambitious and dangerous in the efi’ects it may have on a man in the way of lifting him up. But that should not be the reason why any one should decide for or against it. God’s call that is to decide.”

“llth August, 1875. — All yesterday, prostrate with my old enemy, intermittent fever. However, I am better, and the weary, depressing pain in my back is not there to-day. But this certainly proves to me that I cannot safely or sensibly contemplate a hot climate. And the bidding farewell to all my friends and relatives — I can’t look it in the face calmly. I would settle and stay at home unless this lay in the way — GocVs will. What if in staying at home I should be disobeying God’s call, or, at least, choosing for myself? This would be terrible. I think I shall just dismiss it from my thoughts at present, and cast this burden wholly on Him. I do know that all will come right; we cannot go wrong if we commit it constantly to Him. Pray that His will alone may be made plain, and that no element whatever of our own fancy, or even idea of duty, may blurr the clear view which He will give us of our future sphere. I don’t know how I could ever have looked at the future if I had not had such clear indications that God had something for me to do. Such proof of His interference in, and along the whole course of my life — such intervention where I least expected it and thought I least deserved it.”

India was the first sphere which presented itself; and it was not without great hesitation that he declined this. I need not enter into his reasons for this declinature. Medical advice chiefly swayed him, though there were other reasons operating along with this in determining his choice. Again and again he consulted me, and we talked over the whole matter most fully. I said to him that before deciding for India, he should see his way very clear, for it seemed as if there were some qualifications possessed by him which would better suit other fields. No one sought to bias him; but some wished him to consider the whole matter carefully, before coming to a decision. I knew something, at the time, of the work in France, which was then little more than beginning. I had not the acquaintance of its honoured director, and had seen but little of the operations amoDg the Communists. But I was considerably impressed with the feeling that France was the place for him; just the very sphere for his gifts. His knowledge of French and German were strongly determining points. He would not need to wait till he had acquired a new language, whether of Africa or India, but could throw himself at once into the heart of the work without an hour’s delay. The spiritual experience through which he had passed eminently fitted him for dealing with unbelievers such as the Paris workers have to encounter. His skill in argument, and tact in meeting objections, and patience in bearing with opposition had already shown themselves, and made me feel that he was the man for Paris. Nor has there been cause to repent of the advice then given. All that was urged on him at the time has been amply verified. The sorrowful mystery of his strange removal has not altered my judgment. There was a work to be done in France during these five years; and here was the man to do it. The following is his letter to his father and mother regarding Paris. It is dated 9th February, 1877: —

“Since we Yere in Paris I have never ceased to be deeply interested in the work there among the Communists. Miss Howard, whom I have often met here, has often asked me if I would not think of Paris, but I always refused. Lately, however, I have had my thoughts turned there more than ever, and wrote shortly to Mr. M’All asking for information. He writes — to our surprise — entreating us to think of the work, and says that he and his wife have long wished for a helper, their stations being now twenty instead of four, as when they began. I have just written for further particulars, but tell you all this in the meantime that you may know what is passing through our minds. He says that the want is very great, that they could do much more if they had more workers. Of course it would only be for two or three years, only to see how we liked it ;* and we could not think of going till autumn.”

There were many minor points regarding his decision at this time for Paris which need not be specified. They all seemed to me to point in the same direction; and before long he came to see them in the same light, though loath to give up India. Had Paris not presented itself, he would in all likelihood have decided for India, even in spite of medical opinion; but here was work for him to do at once. It was missionary work too; for to no counsel as to remaining at home would he listen. Several congregations at home, who had heard of him, wrote to me to ask if I could not persuade him to come to them. But he refused all such requests. He thought that he remained long enough at home when, as my missionary, he laboured a year and more in Edinburgh. But he could

* This idea of going “’ to see how we liked it’ vanished almost as soon as we were on the spot,” says Mrs. Dodds. “Friends used sometimes to speak as if it were only a temporary thing, and that he would come back to England. I used to feel; — no; — nothing will ever make him quit France, unless some event which would nearly break his heart.” afterwards acknowledge that that year of homelabour among the poor was of great service to him in his subsequent work.

As he said one day in my hearing, to a friend, who urged him to leave Paris after he had been two years there, “No, I’ll not leave Paris;” so, when a young man, he had said once and again regarding his future life-work, “No, I’ll not settle at home; I have given myself for foreign work.” The advantageous offers of home-settlement were no temptations to him. He declined them all, without hesitation.

The following sentences from a letter to Dr. Murray Mitchell, in answer to one regarding the Indian field, may be quoted here. The exact date is not preserved, but it was in April, 1875: —

“I have no doubt you are wondering what I am thinking about the mission-field, and whether I have made any decision. I think I can better say in a letter what my feelings are. I have not come to any decision. I cannot say that my desire to go has sufi’ered any abatement; but, according to the advice of my best friends, and according to Dr. Begbie’s advice also, I am satisfied that I am right in what I have done. Since I last saw you at the beginning of the session, I have not ceased to ask God’s counsel and direction. ... I need not take up time in telling you how He dealt with me; but need only say that His dealings with me at this time were so close and personal, — so decisive and marked, that I shall never forget, nor cease to be most thankful for what I learned through them. Let me tell you now that I can certainly say this one thing, that if Gud calls me still to go, I can assuredly say that I am not only willing to go, but shall go with all gladness, and count it not only a duty but a privilege. I know that, if ever in my life my will was given up to Him, it has been so in this one thing. At the same time, I Iznow most surely that His teaching has been showing me most clearly that I must wait and not decide. This is not my inclination. I had rather know whether to go or not, — whatever God’s leading may be. Those who are not at all opposed to me going, have advised me to wait and see what is proposed for me; and I can truly say that I have a sure evidence that this is my duty just now; for God has taught me so. I do not deny that this seems strange, even to myself; but it is best; and it has taught me what I would not have missed; and it is best also that I should be taught hovo God really has my future in His hands, somewhere or other to use me, though I may not know it entirely now. My longing for the mission-field is not a whit gone. When I read mission intelligence, and when I see the very very few who have gone or are going, I sometimes wish to fling myself into the work. But I have been kept back from this by God’s dealings; and that they are His I have not a single doubt. I have been enabled to put my future entirely into His hands, and ’ tarry the Lord’s leisure.’”

In sending this letter to a friend, he says, “When I saw Dr. Begbie I asked him about climate, and he said that I should come to no decision just now. Anything that he did add was not in encouragement of my going.”

The next letter is to his father, stating his decision as to India: —

“17 Archibald Place, 21th December, 1875.” My Dear Papa, — I daresay I can say better in a letter to you what I wish to say about my thoughts as to what I shall do at the close of this session. I need not go over what you already know, — namely, that since last January it was left an unsettled thing whether I should go out as a missionary or not. I can see God’s hand very clearly in your letter written to me at St. Mary’s in the summer of 1874, which dissuaded me from fixing at that time; also, I can see it as clearly in His dealings with me last Christmas, when I was almost inclined to give up all thoughts of it. I was kept from that by what I hiow to have been God’s hand and will; and since then you know that 1 have been unsettled. Since then, also, I have never ceased to make it an almost daily subject of prayer; and I write this letter to let you know my thoughts, not my decision, as I have made none.

“One thing I may as well say here and now: I cannot go to India — if I go out — under Dr. Duflf’s system. ... It would be rash to decide altogether against that system. Nevertheless, I have a decided objection to it, and will not go to teach moral philosophy, or English literature, or any purely secular branch of knowledge. I agree with you that this is not the work of a preacher of the Gospel, of a missionary; not the manner of winning souls; not the example left by the apostles.* But this is not saying that I feel the call lessened or removed; I rather feel it with all the more intensity. What would you say was a call? How would you explain it, or how would you view the constant desire I have had for long to go? It has existed and grown under the most earnest and anxious prayer for guidance and light. If all this be not a call, or in the direction of a call, what is? I have been reading John MacDonald’s

* His decision against India rested on two grounds, — health, and what appeared to him the secular character of the post ofifered to him. His decision against secular teaching was the more unbiasstid because teaching in itself was a kind of passion with him, and he felt himself particularly suited to it.

Life. In his words, I may say, ‘My anxiety is to have my call made clear; my mind is weaned from every consideration but the will of my Lord. I think I can say this (I could not a year ago): I appeal to Him as my Teacher; that is my only concern now. Father and mother, brothers, and sisters, and friends, I have laid at the footstool of the throne as at my Lord’s service, so that I shall leave them if He demand.’ Do you think my feelings in this matter can be imagination, or a morbid sense of duty, or mere natural inclination? Is it the * way of the Spirit ’ to let one continue in such a state in so great a matter after earnest prayer, and such dealings as I have experienced?

“M. has had much to sacrifice of her own inclinations against. I have had a good deal to learn of how my own inclinations must not decide for. We have been led by different paths to the same result. We must wait on Him for an answer; and is He not giving it?...

“I am very conscious of what I may have to give up, — literature, and theology, and time for study; but these are nothing in the way, and they are also nothing compared with going away from you all. Meanwhile, I do ask you both to make it a special subject of prayer, till the spring or later, when it may be necessary to decide. Ask that I may be kept at home, if He wills it; ask that I may be sent abroad, with a call clear not only to myself and M., but to you all. I do not doubt in the slightest that you will expect an answer, even as I myself pray and look for one that will change perplexity into clearness, and show the right way. — Your ever aflfectionate son.”

“Uh August, 1875. — He shall choose our inheritance for us. I know He will; but let us pray that all may be made very clear, and that we may be led in the right way.”

“Itlh August, 1875. — Dr. M. Mitchell pressed me a good deal this morning. They want three men. I do not know what to do. I said he must wait till the end of next session before I could at all think of answering him; that this I felt to be God’s leading; and that my friends all desired it. I told him that climate was an insuperable objection just now, but that I had still to hear what Dr. Begbie might say finally. Dr. M. says that Bombay is quite cool during winter months, and that during other seasons I could go to the Hills. They are in great need of men for Madras and Bombay. Do you not think that it is a terrible thing that so few go abroad? This weighs most with me, besides the life-long wishes I have had, and that have now grown into me, as they formerly grew out and developed. It seems so like God’s will that I should go. I never hear the voice say, ‘You will do right in staying at home.’ It seems always to say that I shall do right if I go. But I said to Dr. M. that my Board work and missionary work were quite enough just now to take up my mind, and that I could not undertake the weight of having to decide just now as he wished me. The Lord oicr God will make our darkness to be light, in His own way and time. Let us wait on Him for this to dawn.’.’

“2nd Beccmhcr, 1875. — I have been thinking much of the foreign field this week. Dr. Duff had one of his grand lectures to-day on St. Paul; it was really very fine, describing St. Paul’s missionary spirit. I cannot help feeling the terrible want that exists for missionaries everywhere, — not in India only. How little, — how very little does the Church realise her duty, — her privilege, the blessing that might accrue from greater missionary zeal. And the question always comes back to me. Is this longing which God has given me for the mission-field to be a barren one? I wonder what man would not feel at liberty to disregard the call, if I am at liberty to do so.”

“2lst December, 1875. — Have you looked at the Record? Really when one sees the great fields ready for harvest, and the labourers ’ olim depugnantes, jam prostrates atque mortuos,’ does one not feel how great the need is, and how strongly imperative God’s call becomes in the midst of such want, — how personal the call becomes amid such a general cry.”

“Srcl January,l8’76. — I do not think a missionary’s post more solemn than a minister’s, in responsibility, — I had almost said in difficulty. They were not different in the early ages of Christianity; they should not be so now. Our Church and our ministers should be missionary and missionaries.”

Finding that lie was greatly drawn to Paris, and being convinced that his qualifications for that place were of no common kind, several of his friends encouraged him to think of it. Passing through it in 1876, — a year before he decided to settle there, — he addressed a meeting, regarding which he thus writes to his brother: “They prevailed on me to address a meeting; and I began with an interpreter; but finding that slow work, I dropped it, and made a desperate plunge at French, and succeeded. The people were most attentive eager listeners.”

The prospect of being able at once to enter on the work, without a preliminary year, or two years of language-learning, vfas an inviting one. He was already largely equipped for the service there; and his past studies and experience seemed to be of the very kind needed. Fully we talked the matter all over; consulting how he could best dedicate his gifts to the service of Christ. He then opened up a communication with Mr. M’All; and ere long all arrangements were made for his going. It only remained to put all things in order at home. This was done.* A house was taken for him at Belleville, — 6 Kue des Fetes; and, in the beginning of November, 1877, with his wife and first-born son, he started for his great destination. Mr. M’All received him as a father a son; and from that day the affection on both sides continued to increase. The way in which he spoke of his venerable colleague from first to last showed how strong and warm was the bond between them. It was well that a young minister of twenty-seven should begin his work in connection with such experience and such fellowship.

There was much to cheer an ardent worker, though the magnitude of the work, and the distances to be traversed, and the lateness of hours

* A letter dated 30th June, 1877, contains the following reference to his separation from our Grange Mission and departure for Paris: — “The other day, going about in the Cause way side, I was groaning over the little time I had had, and shall have, when the thought was sent into my mind, * If you had not had all this affliction you could not have spoken to people as you have done.’.. I like visiting a friend’s manse, and sometimes an envious feeling comes up, and a sort of longing to have a quiet place like this; but I am glad that our future is to be in Paris; it would not do for every one to stay at home; some must go. I feel / have been called.”

might have alarmed a timid worker. All the more was he cheered when he found how well the climate of Paris suited him. It was dry and bracing; not relaxingly hot. And Belleville, built upon a considerable height, was not a disagreeable place of residence, though the abode of poverty and crime.

He began his work; and from that day there was no cessation till he was called away by the Master. The rugged natures which he had daily to encounter did not in the least daunt him. He enjoyed the stubborn work. The atheistical spirits with whom he had to discuss questions were certainly new to him; but he was prepared for them, and he had come to pity and to love them. They did not ruffle him at all. Their outspokenness was pleasant to him, for he could deal with them without circuitousness or subterfuge. They spoke to him without reserve, and so did he to them. They made no mistakes as to what he was and what he was not. They soon found that he was no “clerical,” no “Jesuit,” no spy; but one who had come from another land to speak to them about “religion,” a religion of love and peace; and that he was in earnest. He came not dressed in the long priestly robe, nor wearing the large priestly hat. He was plainly attired, and put forth no pretensions to authority. He carried in his hand not a Latin missal

Res 0 hit ion to Settle in Paris. 169

or breviary, but a book which he called the Book of God, — and the New Testament of the Lord Jesus Christ, — or perhaps some simple tract, which spoke to them of the love of God, and of pardon without a price. He did not ask for reverence, though they soon learned to reverence and to love him. He did not speak of the Church, or the Virgin, or the Pope; but of the Son of God, who died for sinners. He did not carry a crucifix, nor wear a scapular, nor impose penances, nor ask for confessional fees. He was more ready to give than to receive; and the words of grace which came from his lips were words, the like of which they had never heard before.

It was touching to notice the infidel listening, to see the rude man softening, to watch the hardened melting into tears, to receive the respectful bow, or the cordial shake of the hand, or the kind welcome from the grateful ouvrier. And the meetings, too, so unlike those to which they had been accustomed! No confusion or uproar; no lewd or revolutionary song; no mockery of religion or government; no attacks upon the rich, yet the warmest expressions of kindness for the poor. Thus he went out and in among them as one of themselves, the example of true fraternity, liberty, and equality. Quickly they found out what he was, — a man really seeking their good; bringing to them not a religion of money, but of kindness and benevolence.* His residence at Belleville, in the very heart of communism, told upon the whole neighbourhood, winning both ears and hearts. It was a beginning of the right kind, following up Mr, M’ All’s footsteps when, some few years before, he had planted himself in the same locality, and in so doing had gained access to the lowest and the worst of the populace.

But though Belleville was his home for his first

* Yet the kind of people among whom he laboured may be judged by the following sentence from one of the anarchists’ manifestoes, published within this last year: — “We propose to teach the people to live without a Government, as they are already beginning to learn how to live without God. Our party will also teach men how to live without property-holders. The worst tyrant is not he who locks you up in gaol, but he who starves you; not he who takes you by the coat-collar, but he who takes you by the stomach. There is no liberty without equality; no liberty with a society in which capital is monopolised in the hands of a minority, and nothing is evenly divided, not even public education, which, nevertheless, is paid for out of the common purse. We consider that capital, the patrimony of all humanity, since it is the fruit of the work of past and present generations, ought to be placed within the reach of all, to the exclusion of none, and that no individual ought to seize more than his share, to the detriment of the rest.” Atheism and Communism, open and undisguised, met him on every side. With singular wisdom, he met and disarmed both; nor had he ever to complain of rudeness or unkindness. He was patiently listened to in the district meeting, or the house, or the village, or on the street. Boldly but kindly he went up to the worst, and was never repulsed. “It is the Christian’s cowardice that spoils his fortune,” was once remarked; and he found that straightforward dealing with the men of Belleville and Lyons was successful. eighteen months, the work went far beyond that remarkable faubourg; and the Mission gradually crept round the whole city, and interlaced its streets. On foot, in cabs, in omnibuses, in tramways, in boats, he went forth on his missionary errand of preaching or visiting. He was not confined within any limit or locality. All Paris was his district; afterwards, all France. Even before his arrival, Mr. M’All had opened twenty-one stations, all craving help from the new missionary, and each year continued to add to these.

He now at last found himself in the position he had so long coveted to occupy, and doing the work on which from childhood he had set his heart. Only he had to face not the cities of India with their millions of Buddhists and Mohammedans, but a city of Christendom with its crowds of unbelievers, to whom the Bible was a fable, Christianity an imposture, religion a device of priests for the victimising of the ignorant and the oppression of the poor.

To meet the various elements of evil, and the many phases of unbelief, he had but one weapon, — that Gospel which he knew so well, and which he could so clearly deliver to the strange audiences which drew around him day by day; a Gospel very unlike anything that these audiences had ever heard, — the Gospel of God’s free love, presenting to

J2 Alemoir of Rev. G. T. Dodds.

the sons of men, without gold or silver, a pardon which the priesthood had hitherto kept under their own lock and key, to be withheld or dispensed at their pleasure, and for their gain. For the hearty, honest, and immediate pardon of the sinner, without a priest, and without gold or silver, is an idea unknown and imintelligible to those who have learned from childhood the fundamental principle of Romanism, that God’s favour may be bought with money, or secured by merit.

But his early work in Paris we defer to the next chapter.