Henry Raikes

REFLECTIONS ON THE DEATH OF LADY BRENTON.—EXTRACTS FROM THE PRIVATE MEMORANDA.—SUFFERINGS FROM HIS WOUND, AND REMARKS ON THE SUBJECT.

Lady Brenton’s death took place on July 29, 1817. A letter addressed to his mother, dated Simon’s Bay, Sept. 17, 1817, will shew more clearly than any attempt at description, the feelings with which her attached and devoted husband contemplated his loss.

He was at the moment unconscious that another loss had occurred, which was to form a fresh trial for his faith, and was to search still more deeply the foundation of that peace on which he had been resting. His son Jervis, the boy to whom reference has been so often made, and in whose opening qualities the fond parents had delighted to trace the seeds of much of mental and of moral promise, was carried off by a sudden attack of fever and sore throat, while at school at Winchester, on August 27, 1817, just one month after his mother’s decease. A letter written to his brother on this occasion, may with propriety be subjoined, as exhibiting the spirit of calm Christian submission with which Sir Jahleel resigned these objects of his tenderest affection.

The circumstances under which Sir Jahleel received the intelligence of his son’s death were peculiarly touching. He had been induced to undertake a journey into the interior, for the double purpose of exploring the resources which those parts of the country offered for the naval arsenal, and for ascertaining the possibility of establishing a coasting trade along the eastern line of coast; and had reached the town of George, on his return from the mouth of the Knyzna, the proposed limit of his tour; when he and his companions saw from the house where they were resting, the postman from Cape Town entering the village by a bridge. Struck with the coincidence of the scene, Sir Jahleel was on the point of repeating to his friends the well known lines in which Cowper contemplates the varied contents of the postman’s bag when arriving in Olney; when he was compelled to feel the reality of the description by the letters which he had to open. They contained the intelligence of his son’s death; whom letters received but a week before had represented as being in the full enjoyment of health; and the deep and affecting regret with which the head master announced the loss of his promising and cherished pupil, must have added to the sadness with which the father learnt the fact that this treasured tie, to which he had turned with so much fondness in the first bitterness of his loss, was thus suddenly taken from him.

The journal from which so much has been drawn on previous occasions, contains frequent references to this severe and complicated trial. I merely select a few passages as sufficient to indicate the general character of his remarks, and as being most contiguous in point of time.

“July 29th, 1818. This, my darling children, is the first anniversary which has come round of our irreparable loss. It has indeed been a year of affliction to us, for much as we were prepared for the inevitable blow as regarded your dear mother, still the awful reality was severely felt. This was soon followed by another as severe, and unexpected. Your dear brother was called in a few days after the departure of his angelic mother to follow her to the grave; but that is not the view in which we should contemplate our dear departed saints. They were mercifully called to meet each other in heaven. How benignly does the Almighty temper our afflictions, that we may be enabled to support our trials. Had there been an apprehension of such a calamity befalling us, as the loss we experienced in the course of one short month, we should have doubted our power to sustain it; but when the last afflicting tidings came, they found us already prostrate before the throne of mercy, humbly endeavouring to resign ourselves to the Divine Will, and in such a frame more able to support the pressure of adversity, than if it had visited us during some of those periods of indescribable happiness, which our bountiful and merciful Creator has so frequently been pleased to bestow upon us. When the loss of your dear brother was announced to me, bitter as the affliction was, it came accompanied with a source of consolation of which the effect was instantaneous. The idea that his mother had been spared the misery of such a loss, that they had met in heaven, that their sufferings were at an end; that they had been mutually spared the wretchedness of mourning for each other; these comforting reflections instantly crowded into my mind, and saved me from much of the anguish which I must have endured at any other period.

“A whole year has now elapsed, and the retrospect, affecting as it is, nevertheless abounds in comfort. We have that feeling that the world is not our all. If it had been, what would have been our situation now? From my own experience I deeply feel the chastening, but merciful hand of God in these awful dispensations. They have awakened me to a true sense of my situation, and have shewn me, that whilst happy here, my eternal felicity was at stake; for I was guilty of gross idolatry, by allowing every thought to centre in the blessings bestowed upon me, with little more than a nominal reference to the all-merciful Providence from whom I received them. This is the first year of my life in which I can conscientiously claim to have made any progress in religious attainments; for greatly defective as I must still allow myself to be, I feel that I have a deeper sense of the divine presence constantly upon my mind; that I have less of that dreadful repugnance to the service of my Maker, and more energy in the performance of it; and I can feel that in all my pursuits, whether professional or otherwise, I am constantly influenced by a sense of their being religious duties. The memory of what I have lost has scarcely ever been absent from my mind, indeed every thing recalls it, but my tranquillity and even cheerfulness has been greater than at almost any period of my life, for I have lost all cause of anxiety. Formerly I was wretched on account of my own health, about my circumstances and worldly successes, unmindful of the Divine protection who had never deserted me. Now I learn to resign myself to His Divine will; to entrust you, my darling children, to his care; and I have also acquired the conviction that there is no situation in life, however successful we may be in all our pursuits, capable of conferring real and permanent happiness; for had I been placed on the pinnacle of human glory—the admiration, the idol, and the envy of all around me—this blow would have humbled me to the dust, for I can with sincerity say that all my successes in life have derived their chief value from your mother having participated in them.

“My whole life had been almost such a dream, mixed, it is true, with many causeless and culpable anxieties. Blessed with all that could render life a state of happiness, the most perfect description of it, domestic happiness, I never once considered the certainty that a few years must end it, but allowed myself to be as much absorbed in the contemplation of it as though this life were all in all. With a full and perfect conviction upon my mind of the truths of our holy religion, of the promises of the gospel, still I found the charms of this world capable of taking entire possession of me. How differently do I now view it. Affliction only can clear away the mist from before our eyes, and enable us to distinguish the fleeting and chequered enjoyments of this world, from the real and never ending felicity which can only be attained in that which is to come.

“26th September, 1818.—Nearly fourteen months have now elapsed since the departure of your beloved mother, and eight since the tidings reached me of our dear Jervis having followed her to the realms of bliss. During the whole period of my life I do not remember any to have passed with more entire tranquillity than this season of affliction, or with more consistency of reflection.

“When I am suffering most from depression of mind, and the mournful contemplation of my widowed state, I can readily trace these gloomy feelings to their source; and find them to have taken possession of me, as the world renews its cares and influence, and renders the view of eternity less distinct than when seen through that pass by which your beloved mother and brother have entered into it.

“24th September, 1820.—A long interruption has here occurred, my darling children, and prevented for many months the continuance of an employment, which had not only become most deeply interesting, but in a manner sacred; as its intention was to keep alive in your minds the remembrance of your mother’s virtues, and to lead you to cherish them in your hearts, as so many delightful and irresistible examples for your own conduct. The interruption has not only been long, but very nearly final, from the severe illness by which it was occasioned; but a kind and merciful Providence has, in addition to innumerable mercies and blessings, brought me through this trial, and restored me, if not to health, at least to the capability of resuming my former occupations.

“It has often occurred to me whilst lying on the bed of sickness, that the reflections necessarily suggested by such a state, if accurately recorded, would not only be of the greatest value to the sufferer, should he be permitted to recover, but also of inestimable benefit to many who might have escaped such experience; and it most forcibly struck me, as a most appropriate subject for this journal, in which I hope, my dear children, you will continue to derive religious instructions from your affectionate parents, long after the period in which they will have been called away from you. Here under the influence of the most tender associations and recollections, you will find yourselves assured that the hour of affliction is rarely, if ever, without its sources of alleviation; to the sincere Christian, I may add with confidence, never.

“My illness was occasioned by cold, and violent inflammation in my wound, which had been closed for upwards of four years. This led to the formation of an extensive abscess, which for some days kept me in a very dangerous state; it confined me to my bed for several weeks, and for six months has reduced me to the state of a cripple, in which I must expect to remain for some time longer. I do not remember during any period of my illness to have considered the danger imminent, but I feel a comfort in the recollection that I had no considerable anxiety, or any afflicting thoughts, even in the most alarming moments. But I had many serious and salutary reflections, for which I hope to be the better during the remainder of my days. The retrospect of the last years of my life did not afford me the consolation and confidence which I had so often and so presumptuously flattered myself it would have done. On the contrary, it brought the most unanswerable evidence that I had been living in error and vanity, in a system of Christianity very different from that laid down by our blessed Saviour. This was the light in which I began to view the last, and what I had arrogantly considered the meritorious part of my conduct; but how innumerable were the instances, or rather how constant was the practice of my ‘living without God in the world.’ How entirely did I find that I had devoted myself to this life, and how faint were the impressions of the life to come. And yet I had been in the habit of considering myself so certain of salvation, as to look forward to death as the only source of consolation for the affliction I had experienced in the loss of your sainted parent and brother. Such a confidence is indeed a delightful one if it be properly and rightly sustained; and if it can be rationally indulged, is certain of being efficacious under the heaviest pressure of worldly misery. But it is not to be attained so easily as we are frequently induced to imagine, by dividing our affections between this world and the world to come; or rather by paying a formal heartless worship to God, whilst all our thoughts are occupied in our worldly treasures, in those we have lost, or in those we still possess or fear to lose. Could we bring ourselves to say with real sincerity of heart and perfect resignation, ‘Thy holy will be done;’ could we devote the remainder of our lives to Him, who gives and takes away, as infinite wisdom suggests; could we enjoy the blessings of this life with gratitude, but look forward with hope, delight, and confidence to the divine promises for eternal happiness, then indeed we might say, ‘O! death where is thy sting, O! grave where is thy victory!’ We might then say with the excellent and pious Doddridge, that ‘the cords of affection which would have tied us to the earth, and have added new pangs to our removal from it, are become as a golden chain to draw us upward, and add one further charm and joy to even paradise itself.’ This most desirable, most pleasant state of mind can never be gained by our own unassisted exertions. This is a truth which cannot be too frequently repeated to us. Thousands have sought for it in vain. To obtain it, we must unreservedly give ourselves to our blessed Redeemer, and seek for comfort through His divine atonement. My frame of mind previous to this illness had been very different. I thought less of the awful deficiency, which must appear when I should be called upon to render an account of the talent which had been committed to my charge, than of my fancied superiority over such of my fellow creatures as were openly disobeying the commandments of God; and like the self-righteous Pharisee, I felt, if I did not express, my self-gratulation in not being as the ‘Publican;’ little reflecting, that he might be inwardly struggling against an evil nature, performing acts of virtue unknown to all but his Creator, and depending solely for help and pardon on Him, who says, ‘whosoever cometh unto me I will in no ways cast out.’ Reflections such as these could have no effect in inspiring confidence or hope, when on the confines of death, or in bearing up the spirit to sustain its infirmities; they were consequently rejected as productive rather of despair than consolation. I am happy to say, they were as transitory as useless, and that I turned at once to Him, who alone could give me peace, to our blessed Saviour and Redeemer. His words appeared to be instantly verified. I felt the burden with which I was ‘weary and heavy laden,’ at once removed, and that I could cast my care on Him. I prayed for strength of mind to conquer my worldly feelings and propensities; for gratitude for all the blessings vouchsafed to me, but above all for that most stupendous sacrifice, by which I was redeemed from sin and misery; that it might bring forth in me the most perfect resignation to the Divine Will, the most perfect trust and confidence in God; the most unbounded and indefatigable charity to my fellow creatures. If I am still without the object of this prayer, yet I have the comfort of knowing, that I am much more sensible of my deficiencies; and that I do daily and constantly indulge the humble hope, that I shall be graciously assisted in conquering the remaining depravities and corruptions of my nature.

“Blessed with all that could render life a state of happiness, the most perfect description of it, domestic happiness; I never once considered the certainty that a few years must end it, but allowed myself to be as much absorbed in the contemplation of it as though this life were all in all. With a full and perfect conviction upon my mind of the truths of our Holy Religion, and of the promises of the gospel, still I found the charms of this world capable of taking entire possession of me. How differently do I now view it. Affliction only can clear away the mist from our eyes, and enable us to distinguish the fleeting and chequered enjoyments of this world, from the real and never ending felicity which can only be attained in that which is to come.”

In allusion to the death of his wife and his son—“Those events which in the course of my life have appeared the most unpromising, and have been attended with the most anxiety, have frequently and generally proved the sources of comfort and happiness. The two heavy dispensations, which have lately befallen me, cannot have such consequences in this world; but I fervently and humbly trust they may be the means of preparing me for eternal happiness in the next, by awakening me from an attachment to the things of this life, which almost exclusively occupied my thoughts. The more innocent the affections, the more we are inclined to indulge them, and the less do we perceive our danger of being drawn away from God. But the Almighty in his wisdom and mercy knew what was best for me. He has afflicted me, and I humbly implore his Holy Spirit to give me perfect resignation to his Divine will. How keen would have been my grief for the loss of so promising a child as your brother Jervis, at such an age, and whom I had fondly contemplated as my successor and representative, if I had only thought of him in a worldly point of view. But seeing him as I do, disposed of by Divine wisdom, I resign him into the hands of his Maker. It is true, he will never more come to me, but I humbly trust I shall go to him. May worldly wisdom grow every day more insignificant in your eyes, my dear children; at least such wisdom as is so generally sought for. You will soon attain the delightful experience, that even for success, prosperity, and happiness in this world, Divine Wisdom is all in all.”

“October the 12th.—The frequent menacing appearances which my health and wound assume, form a constant source of serious reflection, and I feel that it may be neither unimportant, nor a waste of time, to note these thoughts down as they occur. They may be of infinite benefit to you, my dear children, in influencing your conduct on similar occasions, should you be visited by them; and the experience of those we love has a powerful effect in fixing our resolutions, and dictating our line of conduct. In the first place then, I am more than ever convinced that trials and afflictions are sent for our good, sent in kindness and in mercy; and that so far from repining under them, we incur an awful responsibility, if we do not turn them to good account, by taking them as warnings against our worldly attachments, and by listening to the voice with which they so earnestly direct us towards eternity. This duty is obvious and imperative, however hard to fulfil. It is now the chief object of my solicitude; and I feel that I can only appropriate to myself the blessed hope of immortality, in proportion to the measure in which I can resign myself to the Divine will, and preserve my mind unshaken by the cares and anxieties of life. So happy a frame of mind is neither easily to be acquired, nor long preserved, amidst the shocks to which we are exposed, and the conflicting passions of our nature. I hope, however, I have succeeded, my dearest my beloved children, in resigning you into the hands of a merciful, and an omnipotent Protector; and I humbly trust that you will ever remain under his paternal care, receiving with gratitude the blessings He bestows, and seeking the Divine approbation as your only object.”

The narrative has perhaps been suspended too long, while the private meditations and recollections of this excellent man have been thus brought before the reader. But the Editor feels no apology due for the delay. It has been said already, and said more than once, that the object of the present volume was to present to the public the picture, not of the seaman, or the officer, but of the man; and the portrait would have been incomplete, it would have been deficient in that which like expression in painting, gives the chief value to the representation, if dwelling on features of general interest, and which must arrest universal attention, it had neglected or omitted others more adapted to private life, and suited to personal application. The world have long known what Sir Jahleel Brenton was on the deck, in the hour of action, or the storm. It is the object of the present memoir to shew what he was in the retirement of his home, as a husband, a father, and a man; and with this in view, the Editor trusts that he has not trespassed too largely, either on the patience of his readers, or on the sacredness of private memorials, by shewing how Sir Jahleel Brenton bore the trials to which he was subjected in private life, and the exemplary manner in which he discharged the several relations in which he stood. It need not be doubted that the service included officers, whose courage, whose zeal, whose intelligence and self-possession were equal to his; and it is possible that there were some who might have been compared to him in other respects; but it is the combination of qualities which gives to character its peculiarity; and it is the peculiarity of character which renders its example profitable. The earlier portion of the narrative exhibited its subject in the form which appeared most consistent with his excellence as an officer; but justice seems to require, that he who was as admirable for the gentler qualities of his nature, as for those which were suited to arrest the world’s notice, should be presented to the reader in other scenes, and under other trials; as occupying the painful post of observation, while watching the sick-bed of that wife, for whom he had entertained an attachment as romantic as it was reasonable; as subsequently cherishing and educating the children, whom her lengthened sickness and early removal had devolved on his care; as exercising all the graces of Christian benevolence in his intercourse with his fellow creatures, wherever his lot was cast; and as engaged in seeking comfort for himself, under a loss that seemed to be irreparable, by meditating on the promises of scripture.

The character of the remainder of his life was to be essentially different from that of its commencement. The excitement of hope, the energy of enterprize, the exultation of triumph were to be exchanged for calmer feelings, adapted to the circumstances in which he was to be placed. But a surer test of excellence can hardly be conceived, than to see it uniformly exhibited under every variety of position; exposed to trial in different ways, and superior to trial in all; and the principle which supports men under successive forms of temptation, which overcomes the weaknesses of age as well as the weaknesses of youth, and gives to every part of life the same characteristic tone of goodness, is the most entitled to admiration, as it proves most effectively the purity of its original.

From the date of Lady Brenton’s death, Sir Jahleel’s residence at the Cape did not include any event which calls for particular notice. The stirring interests of a time of war had been succeeded by a peace, which seemed more likely to be durable, from the exhaustion to which the contending powers had been reduced by the length of the previous contest. The duties of his office occupied his day; the care of his children occupied his earlier and later hours; and few men were better qualified by talent, taste, and habitual gentleness of mind for the discharge of this last—this anxious and delicate duty. Having the singular advantage of a sister residing with him, and of a sister who sympathised with all his feelings, and entered into all his views, he was able to pursue with less uneasiness the labours which his public employment occasioned, even when they rendered absence from home necessary; and shortly after the event which left him a widower, he felt it his duty to undertake a journey of considerable extent, along the Eastern coast as far as the mouth of the Knyzna; in order to ascertain, by personal observation, some points of considerable importance for the public service. Of these the chief were to investigate the facilities for establishing a coasting trade along the shores of the colony, and to examine resources which the mouth of the river Knyzna offered as a harbour for the shipping employed for this purpose; and connected with this, to get some information as to the quality of the timber produced in the forests, and its fitness for the purposes of the dock-yard. He has left a detailed narrative of this journey, which amply deserves publication, and which accordingly is printed as it is found. It contains an interesting description of the scenery through which he passed—a country which even at present is comparatively unknown; but it is still more valuable as exhibiting the character of the mind with which he viewed it. The journey was undertaken very shortly after the loss which seemed to him so irreparable; and yet we meet with no querulous expressions of grief, no idle recollections of past happiness. He had resigned the being whom he loved above all earthly things to the will of Him, from whom he had first received her; and conscious that the best resource for his own weakness was employment; and trusting that the discharge of duty would bring consolation with it, he seems to have looked round for opportunities of usefulness, and to have sought comfort for himself in endeavouring to do good to others. Gifted as he was with a taste for scenery, and capable of viewing every combination in nature with an artist’s eye, the remarks with which his journal are filled, are chiefly characterized by benevolence and zeal for his country’s service. In every place he visits, the welfare of the people, and the means of public improvement, are the objects that principally attract his attention; and while every thing is noted, and noted in a way which shews how fully it was appreciated, an universal desire to do good predominates in the observations which he makes, and marks what was passing in the heart of the writer.

The narrative concludes abruptly, and the reader who has accompanied him in his wanderings through that beautiful, and at that time unexplored region, will hear with pain that the cause, which terminated the journey, and closed the narrative so suddenly, was the arrival of a letter which reached him on his way back from the mouth of the Knyzna, and which announced the death of his son Jervis. This boy, to whom such frequent reference has been made in the Journal, and whose character seemed to justify all that was felt towards him, died at Winchester School, after a very short illness, and within a few days of that which closed Lady Brenton’s life. His fond mother was spared the pang of hearing of that event, and he was spared the pain with which he must have heard of her release; but Sir Jahleel, through this singular concurrence of trials, merely passed from one affliction to meet the shock of the other; and perhaps was thus to learn that no earthly comfort was to be made use of as a resting place for the soul, or to occupy affections which were due to God alone.