| INTRODUCTION |
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John Gifford Bellett was the oldest of Francis Hutchinson, Edward Cronin and J. N. Darby –
'Recollections of the late J. G. Bellett by his daughter, L. (Letty) M. Bellett' is a sensitive, extensive and valuable review of Mr. Bellett's life and service.
| Other pages related to Mr. Bellett: History: The Early Years: Recollections: Letter of J. G. Bellett Ministry: J. G. Bellett |
G.A.R.
| HIS BACKGROUND |
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John Gifford Bellett was born in Dublin on July 19, 1795. His family was Anglo-Irish – as were those of most of the early brethren in Dublin.
His early education was at the Exeter Grammar School. He went on to Trinity College, in Dublin (1815-19), where he met John Nelson Darby, who was in the same class as JGB's younger brother George.
Mr. Bellett studied law in London. Returning to Dublin in 1821, he was called to the bar but only practised briefly.
| HIS SERVICE |
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Mr. Darby was called of the Lord to serve abroad, but Mr. Bellett was retained by the Lord to serve in Ireland generally, and especially in his own locality in Dublin.
| HIS MINISTRY |
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Mr. C. H. Mackintosh said, "I left the Establishment about the year 1839, and took my place at the table in Dublin, where dear Mr. Bellett was ministering with great acceptance".
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| HIS LEGACY |
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Mr. Bellett was evidently a man of strong principle but also marked by humility, grace, and a generosity of spirit.
Shortly after the Bethesda trouble, he wrote to Mr. J. L. Harris:
Whether the following report is accurate cannot now be determined, but it is said that Mr. Bellett
If it is factual it would only bear witness to what JND commended as to a large heart but feet in the narrow path.
In a letter to Miss L. M. Bellett – JGB's daughter – a clergman of "moderate High Church views" gave this testimony:
| FAREWELLS |
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| The last letters between Mr. Bellett and Mr. Darby follow: |
My dearest Darby,
It seems to myself, I am quietly sinking under the effects of pleuritic pneumonia, as the faculty speak.
I may never see you again, my dearest brother; but I must tell you as from a dying bed, how deeply from my heart's soul, I bless the Lord that He ever revealed to me the truth.
I came to know you, not as a slightly before, but in an apprehension that instinctively bound me to you; and this, now for 40 years has never abated –
I need not tell you of the love of the brethren, and the care I get at home from the servants and my dear child: so, as to that, I am in a wealthy place.
To depart to be with Him, I count to be "far better". I am happier than I ever was.
I told a church of England saint, how I still held to the truth as most precious, which I learned some thirty years ago;
The Lord be with you, dearest brother, while you assert and adorn the doctrine.
J.G.B.
September 1, 1864
Dearest Bellett,
I was so for some days back, waiting of the moment to write to you – moving about from meeting to meeting in the Jura – moved by the same motive which brought me yours, for which I heartily thank you, and am so far glad that mine was delayed, as I had yours without even one from me.
Besides the value I had for you, it was not a small thing to me that you, with dear Cronin and Hutchinson, were one of the first four, who with me, through God's grace the fourth, began to break bread in Dublin, but I believe was God's own work:
It is to you, here brother, my heart turns now, to say how much I own and value your love, and return it;
For me, I work on till He call me, and though it would be a strange Dublin without you, yet I go on my way, serve others, say little and pass on.
My hope is still to see you, my beloved brother; should I not, be assured there is none who has loved you more truly and thankfully than myself; it can hardly be unknown to you, though with me it is more within than without.
I have thought too of little fruit. I find that while specially happy in evangelizing, my heart ever turns to the church's being fit for Christ. My heart turns there.
May His joy and peace be with you, dearest Bellett, and again thanks you for your letter, which was a true delight to me.
Yours affectionately in our blessed Master, whom no words can rightly praise.
J.N.D.
September, 1864, Letters of JND 1: 383-85.
Mr. Darby wrote of JGB's departure thus:
October 1864, Letters of JND 1: 393.
Miss L. M. Bellett – JGB's daughter – records that:
| HIS LAST WORDS |
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Mr. Bellett was taken by his Lord on October 10, 1864. He was then in his seventieth year, and at his home in Upper Pembroke Street, Dublin.
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My pilgrim days are waning, the voice of Him I love, But ere I left the desert, I longed that I might know He gave me all I asked for, and more than I can tell, The glories of the Kingdom are coming bye-and-bye, To fall asleep in Jesus, 'tis that I think of now, To have a time with Jesus, Himself to gaze upon, I'm going to be with Jesus, who in this world of pain, It is the Man, Christ Jesus, with whom I'm going to dwell, To leave the world that cast Him out, and to be with Him there,
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The available records of J.G.B'.s last days show how accurately the above lines represent his thoughts. They are unquestionably his own utterances, although some think another may have put them into poetry.
| RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LATE J. G. BELLETT |
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| by his daughter, L. (Letty) M. Bellett |
It may seem strange that after so many years have elapsed since my dear father's death, I should now print these notes of his life; and I feel that some explanation may naturally be expected
Poor as are my words about my dear father, I trust they may convey some idea of his character, and (to use the words of one of his nieces)
If this little record should lead any one to love more fervently his dear Lord and Master, and to prize more highly His holy Word; or if it may be the means of strengthening any wavering faith, I shall indeed be thankful to Him to Whose blessing I commend it.
L. M. BELLETT,
Clifton, November 1894.
1. Early Days
2. Domestic Life - Joys and Sorrows
3. Characteristics - Remembered WORDS
4. Letters, Thoughts on Passages of Holy Scripture
5. Interest in the "Revival" - Hymns
6. Loosening of Earthly Ties
7. Closing Days
1. EARLY DAYS
My earliest remembrance of my dear father is connected with our home in Herbert
Place, Dublin. Our family consisted of himself, my mother, brother, and great
aunt, Alice Dyer, who lived with us.
Before giving my recollections of him, I should like to mention a few things about his early life, gathered from his own lips, or told me by others, and also to quote from some of his early letters which have come into my possession.
The following little incident, related by my uncle in his autobiography,* shows what his feeling towards his brother was. After mentioning his strong attachment to him he writes:
When they were about seven and eight years of age, they were sent to school at Taunton, and while there spent their holidays at the home of their grandmother — "Whyte's Cottage," Sampford-Arundel, Somerset — and this place was loved by them almost as a second home.
Sampford-Arundel was a meeting-place for different members of the family; and there was frequently one there from London, whose influence for good was ever felt by my father and uncle; this was their cousin, Mr. Richard Baron Bellett.
After being at school for some time the brothers were separated, my father being
removed to Exeter; and here I again quote from my uncle's Memoir:
My uncle also writes, referring to school days at Taunton:
After a few years the brothers entered Trinity College, Dublin, and my uncle writes:
"For the first two years in which we were in college we were frequently at parties. I remember well the disappointment I used to feel, on coming home from, lecture at college, at not finding on our table an invitation to a dinner, or to a ball, but the invitations were very frequent. Dear John was an acceptable guest at most places, he was so agreeable, and his power of conversation very great". The next few paragraphs, also taken from the Memoir, and connected with some remembered words of his own, indicate that it was soon after this time that my father's mind (as well as his dear brother's) underwent a change. Some friendships formed at this time were specially helpful to both.
A little further on he speaks of another friend:
The words of my dear father, to which I have referred, were said to me one day when he took me to see the old home. We were in the garden at, "North Lodge"; and he told me to look up at one particular window,
My grandfather was at first much displeased by the seriousness produced, or deepened, in all his children by Mr. Kearney's teaching.
After his college course was finished my father went to London, to prosecute his studies for the law, which he had chosen as his profession.
Though I have no clue wherewith to trace the working of his mind during the interval that had elapsed between this time and the day when the thought of eternity first pressed itself upon him, the following letter written to his dear brother from London, (which was lovingly preserved for sixty years), will show something of what he was in heart and mind at the age of twenty-seven.
The letter is a long one, written on old-fashioned letter paper:
The next letter, to his friend Mr. Reynolds,* though without date, must have been written about the same time:
Soon after the date of these letters my father returned to Dublin to begin his work as a barrister; and a year or two after he was married to my dear mother, Mary, the fourth daughter of Admiral Drury. Their early married life was clouded by the death of four little ones, to one of whom my father refers in a letter to his cousin Richard:-
In the next letter my father refers to his two other boys, "little Richard and Johnny" — the first, delicate almost from his birth, was taken from him when about three years old. "Johnny", who was about a year older, lived to the age of nineteen to be the occasion of calling forth his father's tenderest sympathy during months of suffering, and also his wondering and adoring thankfulness for the grace given to this dear son. His letters at the end will show this fully.
Perhaps you remember Henry Martyn's reflection in a moment of disappointment: —
The following letter was written when my uncle was in some anxiety and trouble:
The next two letters are addressed to my father's very dear and only sister.
The second letter refers to the illness of Aunt Roberts:-
In the following letters my father speaks of the illness and death of my grandmother (Mrs. Drury), and of a little daughter who lived but a short time, also of the death of little Richard.
A few days later:
Again:
MY DEAREST BESSY, — Dear Mother has told you of our sorrow, which has come in a moment most unlooked for, for Mr. Crampton told us, thirteen days before dear little Richard died, that he might outlive his disease. But he has followed his dear, kind grandpapa very speedily, and though he was a most delightful child to us, yet we see much mercy in his being freed from possibly long suffering. I feel, however, that it helps to show me that I have less reason to have my hold on this world.
I think it must have been about this time that my father withdrew from the Communion of the Church of England. His friend Mr. Darby's* name first occurs in the following letter:
MY DEAREST GEORGE, — At times it is only the assurance that God is with you that makes me feel at all happy in our separation.* If we lived merely for this world, it would be better that we should be together even on bread and water, but we must not undertake to fix the bounds of our habitation. Circumstances will, please God, occasionally unite us.
My father used to say, "It I deserve any credit it is that I early discerned what there was in John Darby!"
The next few lines refer to the last illness of Cousin Richard: "EASTERLAND.*
To Mr. Reynolds:
To the same:
This is the last of the very early letters.
I HAVE now reached the point when I can first speak of my dear father from personal recollection. The very first thing, I can recall is the tone of his voice; and I can remember his playing with us, and can almost see him groping his way in blind man's buff; but perhaps nothing made a more lasting impression on my mind than the way in which, when bidding me "good-night", he would say some little word of a hymn or prayer. Sometimes it would be a short verse, such as
Or, Or, But I think that most frequently it was some loving desire that the blessed Lord might draw me to Himself, and keep me from "the snares of this naughty world". (An expression he often quoted when mentioning children in prayer.) Whatever the parting word might be it reminded me constantly where his heart was.
My great-aunt, Alice Dyer, whom I have before mentioned, was my grandmother, Mrs. Bellett's, younger sister, and had come to Ireland with her without intending to remain. But she became so attached to my father, even from his birth, that nothing could induce her to leave him. Friends in England wanted her to return; but never, except for one short visit, did she leave Ireland again; and after the death of my grandparents she came to live with us. She used often to talk to me of the early days at "North Lodge". Her love for her sister's four children was great; and, when they each left the old home and made homes for themselves, her heart followed them; but it was most closely bound to her "dear John". I shall have occasion to speak of this aunt again.
As my brother and I grew older my father would sometimes sing with us; and used to enjoy the old psalm and hymn tunes with which he had been familiar. His voice was ever sweet and true. The first hymn that I remember his writing was composed to the tune of "Woodman, spare that tree", which we had learned to sing, and which my father much enjoyed.
I can remember the sorrow to which my father refers in the following letter, and my consciousness, when quite a little child, of how much it affected him. It was the death of my mother's youngest sister. She had been an invalid all her life, and was the object of tenderest love to all her family. With her two other sisters she lived next door to us.
One of our pleasantest days each summer was when my father would drive out with my brother, my mother's two nieces and myself, to spend the day at Ballycorus (near "North Lodge"), the Dargle, and Powerscourt Waterfall, first going to breakfast with Mr. Kearney at Kilternan Glebe.
I cannot remember much about my fathers work and ministry in those early days, but I think that then, as afterwards, a part of each day was spent in visits of Christian counsel and sympathy amongst the Brethren, or others.
In later years he would often sit with my dear mother and me, with his Bible open, and a pen in his hand, meditating and writing, always ready to answer any question, or to say some loving word; and I can truly say that I never remember his showing any impatience at being interrupted.
When my dear father wrote of my aunt's death as being such a cause of sorrow, he little thought of the greater grief that was slowly but steadily approaching, nor of the eternal joy that was to spring up in the midst of it.
My own recollection of this dear brother (some years, older than myself) is a very bright one. Although often suffering and requiring care, he was full of life and spirits. His bright face and sunny temperament made him a most pleasant companion, while his love of poetry and music, and all the refined enjoyments of life, and his readiness for pleasure and society, might have been even greater temptations to him than they were,
During his own illness, in 1864, he spoke of this dear son to some who, I suppose, had never even heard of him before, and gave them copies of one or two hymns written by him.
The following extracts are taken from letters written to my dear aunt, Mrs. Richey, who had been with us for some time before my brother's death:
How sweet that verse of Tersteegen's hymn is:
During the summer of 1849, after my brother's death, we remained at Bath with my mother's sisters and nieces, who were then living there.
Much sympathy was shown by many friends, and very specially by those in Dublin. My father went back for a short time to attend a large meeting, and the tender and deep sympathy that awaited him there must have been very comforting.
He returned to Bath for a time, but before the winter he and my dear mother went back to the now shadowed home, where Aunt Alice was waiting for them with her most loving welcome. I remained with my aunts and cousins at Bath, and this gave occasion to my having letters from my father, some extracts from which I can give here.
Referring again to my brother's death, he writes:
My dear father and mother finally left the home in Herbert Place in the following summer, and returned to Bath for a time. He took me into Devonshire, and on the way we stayed for two or three days at Wellington, in order to visit my brother's grave in Sampford Churchyard, and to see the inscription which had been placed in the church to his memory.
While at Wellington we were the guests of Mr. Charles and Mr. Henry Fox. I can recollect the kindness and sympathy shown to my father by these friends, and after the lapse of thirty-five years I met again one member of the family, whose happy remembrance of him touched me very much.
Not long after we returned to Ireland, and during the next few years lived in the neighbourhood of Dublin.
There is nothing special to mark the next year or two, except the remembrance of friends who gathered round my father, and who were welcomed to our house chiefly as guests at breakfast.
The gate of the domains of heaven is on earth.
I often think of the two worlds — the difference between them — victory here will be dignity there. (1 John 5: 4.)
That which disappears here in widow's weeds will re-appear there in bridal attire. (This sentence was explained to mean that the faith which has here been tried by 'manifold temptations' will there be found 'unto praise and honour and glory'. (1 Peter 1: 7.)
There is nothing like faith which attaches you to a victorious Christ.
By the bleeding hand of Christ we have received from God the reconciliation, that He might satisfy the mystery of God's eternal love for sinners, and satisfy the conscience for eternity.
He was numbered with the transgressors — He who had had Moses and Elias on either side of Him! (See St. Luke 9: 30-31)
The service that humbles you is true Christian service. Love does not wait for great occasions, but buckles on its service-suit at once (like St. Paul preaching at Damascus).
What was the apostle's temper of mind in writing the Epistle to the Galatians? In Romans it was the calmness of a teacher. In Corinthians he was a pained rebuker, a disappointed father. In Ephesians all is elevation, looking around on a world of glories.
Justification by faith was no mere dogma to the man who wrote the Epistle to the
Galatians.
Where is the blessedness ye spake of? We do not know the power of the thought that God's favour is towards us — the greatest lever which can be put under the soul. The Galatians knew it at the time to which the apostle looked back.
Thessalonians has a deep glow of pastoral devotedness throughout.
The God of all grace. How little do we let the majesty of such words in upon the soul!
It is a terrible thing to lay oneself out to be an object; it is like a worm at the root.
Heb. 10: 32-39. It is as if the Lord would remind them of His goodness in illuminating them, and ask if they so valued what they had in Him as to part with present things. It would not do for them to pass at once from 'illumination' to 'glory'. The time of 'patience' was necessary to prove that they did value what He could give.
Passages that may seem startling, read in the light of others, are found to be necessary truths. Such is the fearlessness of Scripture, an honest man does not fear to speak his mind". (In answer to some remark about what we might "expect" to find in the Bible, "It is a perfect book; I expect what I find there".
How minute the links between the different parts of Scripture are, and how many silent references there are from one part to another! How the divine writers provide for one another! Judges for Hebrews; Genesis for Galatians. How the volume rolls in upon itself! Paul rolls in upon Habakkuk. (Rom. 1: 17; 2: 4.)
Variety in unity; unity in variety — the dislocated parts of the volume carrying out one line of thought, or a single passage presented in different lights. It is a book of wonders, but the volume itself is a wonder.
Though we may not have capacity to put things together, Scripture has.
We should lean upon the Word as David leaned upon his harp, and press music out of it.
We must leave reason with God; believing is our's. God will take care of His own glory.
There is no citadel for the heart like confidence in God.
No accuracy of doctrine will give the soul rest; there must be the knowledge of a Person.
Christ was the manifestation of God to man, and of man to God. He was the man in whom God could delight.
If there is an entertainment for the heart this side the glory, it is tracking the moral glory of the Lord Jesus; as one says, 'The conception of such a character would be more wonderful than the reality'.
The story of the life of Christ as given by the four evangelists is an enlarging, living wonder to the soul from day to day". After the lapse of many years, I had a touching proof of the impression left on the mind of one who occasionally joined us at breakfast, in some letters, from which I take the following extracts:
I shall have to quote from the same friend later on.
About two years after my brother's death another great trouble came into my dear father's life, caused by the division which took place amongst the Brethren who had hitherto been united in Christian love and service.*
It was at this time that my father wrote two papers in the 'Present Testimony', called "The Son of God". His mind was led to the subject (as he has explained) by thoughts concerning the person of our blessed Lord, which he felt to be erroneous, and which had been suggested by some whom he knew.
The trouble began to tell upon his health and he was persuaded to leave Dublin for a time.
There is a circumstance which comes to my memory, as part of the refining process through which my dear father was called to pass, though not connected with this period of his life, that I may here mention.
[* See Memoir of Rev. G. Bellett, by his daughter.]
[* This is the title of a short memoir of her written by one of her great nieces.]
[*The Somersetshire name for a small stream between high banks.]
[*My uncle had been ordained to the curacy of this parish, in the north of Ireland.]
[*He was a Congregational minister.]
Shame and reproaches be,
All hail reproach and welcome shame,
If Thou remember me".[* Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds had made acquaintance with my grandfather some years
before, when they were visiting in Ireland, and were ever after the loved and
valued friends of the whole family.]
I'll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave'.[* His much-loved brother-in-law, Rev. J. Richey.]
[* At that time my aunt's home, in Somersetshire.]
[* Both my uncles were curates at Bandon, in the south of Ireland. I shall often have occasion to speak of my uncle George; but my father's youngest brother lived only a few years after this. I never knew him, but heard him spoken of as one who loved his Lord most devotedly, and lived a saintly life; yet he suffered from great spiritual depression.]
[* Matthew Henry, the Commentator.]
[* It is perhaps needless for me to say that Mr. Darby was one of my father's dearest friends. They had been contemphoraries at College, and afterwards they were almost entirely of one mind on the subjects most prized by both. I never knew the time when Mr. Darby was not a visitor in our house — sometimes for weeks together; and well do I remember the rapt attention with which his preaching was listened to by my father, and the pleasure with which he would afterwards tell Mr. Darby how it had delighted him. January 31, 1827.]
[* My uncle was still at Bandon.]
[* Cousin Richard's home, near Sampford.]
[* He went with Mr. Groves and others on the mission to Baghdad.]
2. DOMESTIC LIFE — JOYS AND SORROWS
"Jesus, Thou our Guardian be
Sweet it is to trust in Thee".
"None but Jesus, none but Jesus,
Can do helpless sinners good".
"Jesus only can supply
Boldness if we're called to die"."My heart is bounding onward,
Home to the land I love;
Its distant vales and mountains
My wishful passions move.
Fain would my fainting spirit
Its living freshness breathe,
And wearied feet find resting,
Its hallow'd shades beneath.
No soil of nature's evil,
No touch of man's rude hand,
Shall e'er disturb around us
That bright and peaceful land,
The charms that woo our senses
Shall be as pure, as fair;
For all while stealing o'er us
Shall tell of Jesus there.
What light! when all its beaming
Shall own Him as its Sun;
What music! when its breathing
Shall bear His name along.
No change, no pause those pleasures
Shall ever seek to know;
The draught that hills our thirsting,
But awakes that thirst anew".*[* This hymn was first printed by some one years ago without our knowledge.]
MY DEAREST BESSY, — Our darling sister Louisa has been taken from the midst of us, after a short inflammatory attack of only six days, from the 18th to the 24th of April. But her mind was fully preserved throughout, and her peace flowed like a river from her entrance upon, till her close of, the dark valley. It was indeed a mingled scene of light and darkness. Darkness as to nature and the poor body, but God's light in the spirit all the way. But she has been very dear to me from the beginning, and for years our minds had been trained together in sweetest harmony. Scarcely a meditation of mine on the blessed Word that she was not familiar with. . . . I have felt abundant reason in my soul to thank my God with an especial note of praise for it, for it was all needed I am sure, and it will, I trust, be made a good and holy practical lesson to us. My poor Mary and sisters are in the deepest sorrow.
* * * * * *
I esteem it among the sweetest mercies of a mere circumstantial nature, that we were so together in that dear and precious season — precious, I need not say, to the fondest recollections that can ever fill our hearts … How little, when we traversed the Three Rock Mountain together in the freedom of young days, we counted on the style of the more serious and advanced stages of life. How little did I think that dear Mary's heart and mine would be linked by such a common sorrow.
"'Mid conflict be Thy love my peace,
In weakness be Thy love my strength,
And when the storms of life shall cease,
And Thou to earth shalt come at length,
Then, to the Glory be my Guide,
And show me Him who for me died'.
To live to serve Him, is the highest desire.
To die, to enjoy Him as our portion".
Some of his choicest sentences were uttered in these happy moments of familiar
intercourse, or at our family Bible reading from day to day. A few of these. remembered and written down afterwards, may not be out of place here:-
The more we live in expectation, the less we shall grudge another; and the less we shall seek to acquire for ourselves, for, even if obtained, what would it be but a vanity?
[* The controversy that arose about the writings of Mr. Benjamin Newton had
already taken place; and this was consequent upon it.]