THE MARÉCHALE (continued 4)

Aller An fang ist schwer, and the difficulties which the Maréchale encountered at the resumption of her work were enough to make any but the stoutest heart faint. If she had in the past shown a bravery transcending that of even the bravest all this was of small account compared to the heroism now required of her. In the past she had the help of her own people, her spiritual children, and a strong organization back of her. Now she was utterly alone, thousands all over the world had an erroneous conception of the entire situation, and many even believed she had made shipwreck of her faith. Her daughter Victoria stands out during that lonely period of beginnings. With remarkably clear judgment, discernment and sympathy she cheered and inspired her mother with her own enthusiastic hopefulness and vivid faith.

The greatest service anyone could render the Maréchale was to bid her go on, fulfil her destiny, believe that God would again mightily use and bless her. It might seem a small thing to say, "Be of good cheer," yet it was one of those "little nothings" for which she was ever afterwards profoundly grateful. I remember her coming one evening into my Chelsea study in a mood of depression, baffled by life's insoluble mysteries. Wondering what would lighten for her the burden and the weary weight, I took down Browning and began to read "Rabbi ben Ezra," which was new to her. From the opening words—

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was planned—

to the magnificent close, that inspired Sursum Corda thrilled her as a message direct from the great Heart of God. Only in one thing did she venture to differ from the poet. "He sees his heaven beyond," she said; "I want mine down here in the salvation of souls."

As soon as she resumed her work, she had her reward in signs following everywhere. Doors opened to her, first in England, then in Scotland, Ireland and Wales. She brought the breath of life into many churches, rekindled the zeal of many workers for Christ, and broke the chains which had bound multitudes of souls to an evil past.

Her own experience had given her, as a physician of souls, perhaps a deeper sympathy, a surer insight, a greater power to grapple with every form of evil than ever she had before. It became her mission to save people from themselves by convincing them that only one thing is entirely worth doing—living like Christ by letting Christ live in them. There are certainly few evangelists who have changed the whole current of so many lives in our country. Young ladies about to pass within convent walls have found a more excellent way by receiving the living Christ into their hearts. Actors and singers have consecrated their gifts to Christ and His kingdom. Young men of the world have heard the call of God and resolved to enter the ministry or go to the mission-field. God's gift of life has revealed to many questioning eyes its glorious possibilities. Multitudes who had no faith have heard another say that she has faith for them—a faith which has somehow dispelled the mists of doubt and error and brought them into the sunlight of Divine love.

At the same time her ever-deepening knowledge of her two books, the Bible and the Heart of Man, have made her a unique preacher to preachers. One night at Keswick, in the summer of 1907, a brilliant young Scottish minister, who was a member of a large house-party of clergymen attending the annual Convention, came home late for supper.

"Excuse me," he said, as he sat down, "but I could not tear myself away from the open-air meeting in the Square. I never heard such speaking in my life. I stood transfixed. The preacher was the daughter of General Booth, and I never knew the English language was such a magnificent weapon until to-night. Her preaching was extraordinary."

Next day, through Dr. Harry Guinness, who was her host, she was invited to address that house-party. Another preacher who was present has recorded his impressions. "After tea we all gathered our chairs in a circle round her as she opened up some sacred chapters in her life. Hour after hour sped. No one thought of moving to go to the Tent meetings. There we sat spellbound, through a long evening, feeling we had never come across such a being before. This was the first of many such meetings, to which as many outsiders were invited as the large drawing-room could hold. What evenings these were! Highland worthies sat gazing at her with open-mouthed wonder, held by her witchery, her strange tales from actual life, by her wisdom and pathos. Her voice, rich and sweet, sometimes fell to dreamy cadences, and sometimes rose to the bugling of a gale. It thrilled people and it melted them. Her eyes were wonderful. Sometimes they rested on one person in the audience with a soft and appealing look; then they gleamed and blazed with holy passion. Her long arms with their fine tapering fingers—how they helped to express her mind! But it was the face that was the great exponent, and as emotions played on her own mobile features she also touched the deep chords of every minister's heart. What struck us most was the access she won to the hearts of penitents. The mother-love in her was so deep and real that we all felt as if we, too, could give her our sacred confidences. A favourite word of hers was from St. Augustine, 'Love, and do as you like,' and every man in our company felt she was a living illustration of it. Her beautiful and choice language, simple, fresh, exquisitely fitting, and used with superb ease and mastery, was a constant amazement. She never attempted addresses or expositions, but her talks, for no other name would she apply, were now and again gemmed with texts which came as with a flash of diamonds, flaming."

Thus she revealed herself to men who know that the care of all cares is the "cure" of souls—cura curarum cura animarum. She warned them that the "apostolic life," the most Christ-like of all vocations, is only for those who are willing to "fill up that which is lacking of the sufferings of Christ." Prayer and fasting, love and sacrifice, real asceticism combined with joyful enthusiasm are the conditions of success in the never-ending warfare with evil. The world will always be a broad field of battle. But the living Christ gives so much of His real presence that His service is liberty and His rewards are sure. No breath of human praise can compare with the fervent and life-long gratitude which souls rescued from the powers of darkness bear to their deliverer. Since the Maréchale laid aside the French language—-perhaps only for a time—and resumed her mother-tongue, she has received literally thousands of English letters from both continents testifying to blessings received through her ministry. I here give a few carefully selected extracts from these letters with a few words of introduction.

One Sunday morning, as the Maréchale was about to address a large congregation, the minister whispered to her: "You see those two young ladies in black, if you can do anything with them, it would be a miracle."

In one of the after-meetings of the mission, the Maréchale approached the elder of these ladies and ventured to speak with her, but intense reserve on her part made conversation impossible. A cloud of utter despair seemed to have settled on her spirit. The look in her eyes revealed sorrow too deep for words.

This is her story:

"At twelve o'clock one night I was returning home from business with my mother and only sister. I found the body of my father hanging in the corridor! I was so horrified that for a moment I could not move, then, recovering my presence of mind, I put out the lights and called my mother and sister to another door, just in time to prevent them seeing the sight. But I can never forget it!

"Then my mother's health broke down, and for four years I faithfully watched and cared for her.

"During this second painful trial I received the startling news that my dearest and only brother had met with a serious accident while driving his own automobile. On arriving at the hospital in all haste I was met with the words, 'Too late.' He was gone! The scene which followed is too terrible for me to speak of. We adored him! The effects of the shock hastened my mother's death. We said good-bye to her, and oh, the recollection of it haunts me still.

"After my mother's death my sister and I left the house of tragedy, broken down with sorrow and grief. These blows were beyond my powers of endurance. In vain did I seek some ray of comfort. Then I grew careless! Wine began to get a hold on me; and I sank into depths of despair, of which you only know. I really thought there was no God, and contemplated ending my own existence.

"Through it all the Lord was looking down in tender compassion and love. He sent you at this critical time in my sad career.

"When I look back on the past I can only praise God for what He has done for me, through you.

"I am now conscious of the fact that He has washed and redeemed me through the precious blood. Jesus is very dear to me. He is the Lily of the Valley, the fairest of ten thousand to my soul. The pleasures of the world have henceforth no attraction for me, in Him I can overcome all temptations."

The following is from a gentleman in America, who, for thirty-five years, had never entered a church. He happened to hear the Maréchale once, and, rushing into the vestry, he broke down utterly and told her the tragical story of his life.

He was an illegitimate child, and his mother often used to beat him until the blood ran. As a lad he struggled hard to be good, and, although he was sometimes led astray through the drink, he always shunned anything of an immoral character.

He married a sweet German girl, and by honest labour obtained a very good position in New York, where he was esteemed by all who knew him.

At this juncture he met the French woman who ruined his life. He told the Maréchale between his sobs that his wife naturally refused to have him back. Remorse and anguish of mind had driven him twice to attempt suicide, but he was miraculously rescued. In January, 1914, he writes:

"Dear Maréchale and honored Spiritual Mother:

"It was with joy that I received your dear letter. God has indeed been wonderfully good to me, an undeserving sinner! He has rolled away the stone from a heart heavy with sin and sorrow. I thank Him daily for His mercy, and wonder how I could ever have lived so long without Him. No wonder I failed and would have been lost, had I not found Him at last through you, dear Maréchale. Life has a new meaning for me. It is a pleasure to live now, and before it was a curse. The musicians are playing ragtime while I am writing this, but God is playing another melody in my heart. I thank Him for the opportunity I have here to do good. God has indeed changed me. He has given me great power over the minds of my men. The change which, with His help, I have been able to effect in their natures in two short weeks is wonderful to see. I am happy, very happy.

"There is surely a devil, for he has sorely tempted me, but I shake him off like a feather, smiling happily in my God-given strength. I say to him, 'I fear you not, for I belong to Christ Jesus forever.'

"I am indeed in an unholy place. It is given over to the devil in every form, but what matters, I belong to Christ for all time.

"In prayer and humility I thank and greet thee, Beloved Maréchale."

A beautiful girl in society writes the following:

"All night long I have whispered your name over and over again to myself, saying, 'You have given me life, Maréchale, do you hear me? LIFE!!!!' I was dying of remorse and fear. I shudder when I think of what would have become of me if I had not come to you. I used to say to myself, 'Oh, well, what's the use, I have sinned beyond recall, so why not sin again, and again, and again? I am destined for Hell anyway, I may just as well get there as fast as I can'—that is what you have saved me from.

"I wonder how many times I have prayed 'Let me forget, only let me forget,' and the more I would pray, the more I would remember, and the more I would remember the more terrified I would get, until life seemed to slip away from me, and I would fall down, down, down, into a bottomless pit of horror.... And now I LIVE!!!! Oh, Maréchale (how I love that name, it sounds like music to me!) My mother gave life to my poor miserable body, but you gave life to my soul. My mother would not mind me loving you so if she knew that you gave me back to her."

Again she writes: "I have lived alone, absolutely alone. God only knows how utterly alone I have been! But now I have Him, a Some One who cares! Is it not wonderful, Maréchale, I am no longer alone for I have my Christ? The warm thing that flames in my soul is the knowledge that He loves me! Now I know why all these years I have searched with empty hands for something. I have it now, I LIVE!!!!"

A young gentleman whose life was transformed through attending the meetings held by the Maréchale's family in Keswick writes from Beyrout, Syria:

"Oh! what a responsibility it is for us to be the ambassadors of Christ, to represent Him to those who do not know Him, to be His Images! If it were not for us Christians, who so often stand in His way, Christ might have a chance. Some of the college men are meeting daily in my room to pray and I wish you could hear them praying in English, Arabic, Turkish, Armenian and even Abyssinian. You would not understand the words, but you could never mistake the spirit.

"To-day I invited a man whom I know is in the hold of a terrible vice. He came, and during the half hour he looked as though he had made a mistake in coming, but, before he left, he had led in prayer for strength to overcome temptation.

"Don't you think America is a fine country? And yet, with all its great resources, opportunities and phenomenal progress, it is a very wicked country in many parts. Races, nations and individuals may prosper and succeed in plans for betterment and still be without the realisation of God,—they may be 'Good but Godless.'"

THE MARÉCHALE (From a photograph taken at the Gainsborough Studio, Oxford Street, London, W., in 1913)

With the tribute of one grateful heart this sketch may fitly close.

"I have been used in the past in the conversion of hundreds of souls, but I made a compromise and it has spelt ruin to my soul. No one knows how vile I have been, meriting desertion by God and man.... I had resolved to end my existence, but somehow I was brought to that meeting to hear about that Russian lady. Even then I determined you should not influence me, but God somehow through you gripped my life. I saw myself in the true light as (I say the words not in their usual sense) a 'blasted hypocrite.' Don't forget to echo and re-echo the words that reached me, 'Compromise with the world spells ruin.' That burnt into my soul.... I remember while you spoke a big lump rising in my throat, and just as you were closing your address the thought came, 'I wonder if she would understand.' Ay, more, I remember how you received me that day. God bless you. I came out of hell. I have a clear sky. I want to let you know that the consciousness of forgiveness of the past has come with almost an overwhelming force, and an awful load has gone. No daughter ever loved mother more than I love you, I know that. Why is it? Because God made you the means of my salvation. My heart just bursts with love and gratitude. So I am yours, and at that last great day you will see it if I come through at last.... Dear one, have you ever thought of this—some one by a gallant effort rescues lives from fire or shipwreck; the world applauds and honours the deliverer. You (by the grace of God) rescued me from shipwreck of soul. Christ will own it before His Father and all the countless multitudes."

THE END