Eliza Brightwen, b. 1830. Naturalist and author, Mrs. Brightwen was plagued by some undefined and never-diagnosed illness for most of her life so that she was hardly ever able to leave her home called The Grove, out in the English countryside. She wrote several books about her observations of nature, and these books sold well and became quite popular in Victorian England. From her diary:
Jan 20th 1893.- I feel intensely the desire to do more for the poor, but how can I reach them? I am physically unable to go into the slums. I do give money far and wide. I try not to lose a minute in working to make things for others. But oh! The mass of misery in our large towns, especially London, fills me with heart sorrow. A goodly sum earned by my book and given to our clergyman here is doing blessed work, getting boots for children, paying back rent, bringing fires into cold rooms, cheering my poor brethren. How glad I am! What blessed interest for my money! But what can I do for London? I have prayed to be guided. A bale of flannel bought cheaply, then cut into garments and given to poor women to make up ready to give away seems to give one of the best ways of investing money, as it helps the one who makes up the clothes and those who receive them. It is easy to say the poor should make their own clothes, but even if they can get the material their time is taken up at the wash-tub, and mending, and cooking. How can a poor mother make all the clothes for five or six children, her husband and herself? I know I could not, and yet we often think a poor, uneducated woman is able to do what we cannot. I think the quiet, patient, plodding life of the poor is incredible. There is no change from day to day, no fresh books to give a change of thought. The husband comes in, tired and depressed, eats his supper and goes to bed. What is there for the poor wife but a daily round of cheerless duties? Oh, I do feel sorry for them and do not wonder they enjoy spending an evening here in my pretty rooms, hearing sweet music, seeing the conservatory lighted up. It must seem, as they graphically say, “Just like ‘eaven.”
Go here to read more about Eliza Brightwen and her home and writings.
Adelaide Procter, b.1825.
SEATED one day at the Organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.
I do not know what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then ;
But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an Angel’s Psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife ;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
It linked all perplexéd meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence
As if it were loth to cease.
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the Organ,
And entered into mine.
It may be that Death’s bright angel
Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in Heaven
I shall hear that grand Amen.
That reminds me of C.S. Lewis trying to recapture Joy. I like the word “amen”, let it be so, as You will, I agree, faith and solid belief, all rolled up into one word.
AMEN: Middle English, from Old English, from Late Latin ÄmÄ“n, from Greek, from Hebrew ‘ÄmÄ“n, certainly, verily, from ‘Äman, to be firm; Semitic roots. O.E., from L.L. amen, from Gk. amen, from Heb., “truth,” used adverbially as an expression of agreement (e.g. Deut. xxvii.26, I Kings i.36; cf. Mod.Eng. verily, surely, absolutely in the same sense), from Sem. root a-m-n “to be trustworthy, confirm, support.” Used in O.E. only at the end of Gospels, otherwise translated as Soðlic! or Swa hit ys, or Sy!. As an expression of concurrence after prayers, it is recorded from c.1230.
It was interesting reading about her life and house. I noticed that Philip Gosse was her nephew. I think that’s the same Philip Gosse as a Christian zoologist. His son, Edmund, wrote a memoir called “Father and Son.” I own the book but haven’t gotten to it yet.