Scottish Highland Christianity

All over the Highlands the name of Hector M’Phail is mentioned with peculiar veneration. Tradition has handed down many striking illustrations of the zeal for salvation of souls that consumed him. In 1848, the Rev. T. M. Young (Yester) published in the Christian Treasury the well-known and since then often reprinted narratives of M’Phail’s converts, ‘The Highland Kitchen Maid’ and ‘Luke Heywood’. Dr. Kennedy (in his Days of the Fathers in Ross-shire) and Rev. Donald Sage (in his Memorabilia) have given interesting notices of his self-sacrificing labours and much-blessed ministry. He was born in Inverness in 1716. He studied at King’s College,, Aberdeen, and was licensed to preach the gospel by the Presbytery of Inverness on the 20th December, 1746. The parish of Resolis in the Black Isle, lying on the Cromarty Firth, became vacant in July 1747 by the death of the devout Mr. Thomas Inglis (father-in-law of Mr. James Calder) and Mr. M’Phail preached repeatedly in the two churches of this parish with such acceptance that he was called by the unanimous voice of the people to be their pastor; and he was ordained over them on 22nd September, 1748.

But for seven long years his ministry proved unedifying. ‘The hungry sheep looked up and were not fed.’ The elders and others soon found out that they simply an amiable formalist for a minister, and they ‘spoke often one to another’ and to God at prayer-meetings for the conversion of their blind leader.

In 1755 M’Phail married Elizabeth Balfour, a pious daughter of the manse of Nigg. She was not long in Resolis when she perceived to her sorrow that she was unequally yoked with one who had only a name to live. Within a few miles -- on the opposite side of the Firth -- lived the famous Mr. John Porteous of Kilmuir, the grandson of one of Cromwell’s ‘Ironsides’ who had settled in Inverness. His ministry had been greatly blessed to Mrs. M’Phail before her marriage; and one Sabbath morning she told her husband that her soul was famished, and that she must cross over to hear Mr. Porteous. Her intense anxiety overcame all opposition on the part of Mr. M’Phail, and he accompanied her more than a mile to the Ferry.

On his way back he was pricked at the heart with conviction. ‘My people,’ he sobbed out in secret, ‘have been long sick of the husks I have been offering them from the pulpit, and now my dearly loved wife has to go to another parish for spiritual nourishment.’ In his distress he retired to a wood near the church to pray. The hour for public worship was come, but the minister could not be found. One of the elders at length, attracted probably by the groanings of the prisoner, came upon his hiding-place, but he firmly refused to occupy the pulpit. Many days and nights of sore anguish of soul passed over him. Into the same fiery furnace of conviction that Luther passed through in his monastery, and Bunyan wailed in at Elstow, M’Phail was led of the Spirit of God.

At length despairing of relief and refusing to be comforted, he resolved to resign his office. On the opposite side of the Firth lived the devout theologian, Mr. James Fraser of Alness (author of an admirable treatise on sanctification) and him M’Phail asked to preach and intimate his demission from the ministry. Mr. Fraser, who knew so well, the soul-cutting convictions of his neighbour, complied readily with the request to preach on the day assigned. Of the proposed resignation he resolved to make no mention, believing that the dawn of deliverance from distress was nigh. He came as a Barnabas. The large audience was deeply moved, but none half so much affected as the long despairing minister. His bonds were loosed, and at the close of the service he stood up and solemnly declared his determination henceforth to devote himself wholly to the Lord’s service.

When lying so long in the dungeon of despair he had vowed that if God gave him deliverance he would never meet or pass a human being without conversing regarding the ‘one thing needful’, and never was vow or purpose more graciously and conscientiously paid and kept. ‘Instant in season, out of season,’ he reproved and ‘exhorted with all long suffering and doctrine.’ On his way to the General Assembly he reached one evening the Inn of Baldow, some miles north of Kingussie. There he met the ignorant maid whom he taught to pray, ‘Show me myself!’, and on his return, finding her in deep conviction of sin, desired her to say, ‘Show me Thyself?’ Thus she found the marrow of biblical divinity -- ‘Thou hast destroyed Thyself; but in Me is thy help.’

On a similar occasion, when riding to Edinburgh, he met the judge who was to hold the Circuit Court at Inverness. Saluting him he said in respectful and impressive tones: ‘My lord, you are on your way to preside at criminal trials that may issue in sentences of death. Allow me to beg of your Lordship to remember that there is a higher Judge before whom you and I must one day stand to await acquittal or condemnation.’ Far from being annoyed at the interruption, the judge was much pleased and impressed with the genial manner and appropriate remarks of the stranger. He desired to put him up at his house in Edinburgh. In after years the judge, who became warmly attached to him, was in the habit of asking any acquaintances from the North, ‘And how is my worthy friend Mr. M’Phail?’

A well-known grey pony carried the evangelist on his rounds in and out of the parish. Dropping the bridle rein over its neck, he would often allow the animal to proceed as it liked. At the door where the pony stopped the rider would dismount, and entering, would pray and read the Scriptures. Remounting, M’Phail would similarly move on to the next cottage or hamlet. Of course he was like Abraham’s servant devoutly praying, ‘Send me good speed this day,’ and the pony was the unconscious instrument of bearing the gospel message to the homes that needed it most.

On one of these occasions the minister was led to a deep tarn surrounded by wood about a mile from the manse. There he observed a woman in a state of intense agitation, and seemingly prepared to fling herself into the depths at her feet. On being spoken to she wildly replied, ‘Oh! I am to drown myself, because for me there is no hope here or hereafter.’ ‘Stop,’ said M’Phail; ‘where are you from?’ ‘From Alness.’ ‘And are there no pools in Alness?’ ‘Ah, I could not bear the idea of bringing on the parish of so holy a minister as Mr. Fraser the disgrace of my suicide.’ ‘And wretched woman that you are, do you mean to bring that stigma to Resolis?’ Then addressing her in tones of deepest sympathy he prevailed upon her to accompany him to the manse.

No one was better fitted to administer balm to a wounded conscience than M’Phail, and his seasonable words were signally blessed to this miserable being tempted well-nigh to destruction. Next morning she returned to her house, rejoicing in the bright dawn of deliverance. She was the bearer of a letter to her minister, congratulating him on the high favour shown to Alness parish. The devil was not permitted to cause desperate sinners to destroy themselves there. Would-be suicides had to come over to Resolis to accompany their fearful designs. Forthwith Mr Fraser wrote back: ‘How much greater the honour and blessing conferred by the Head of the Church on Resolis! Those who left Alness purposing self-destruction have returned from your parish in the joy and peace of salvation.’ The woman thus remarkably delivered from ruin was in after life an exemplary Christian.

One of M’Phail’s best and most loved friends was James Calder of Croy, whose church was sixteen miles south of Resolis. Visiting there one day, M’Phail found Calder greatly distressed. The wife of a respected farmer in the neighbourhood had become violently insane, and her husband determined to consult the Roman priest in Strathglass in the foolish expectation of obtaining relief. Both ministers waited on the deluded farmer, but they could not dissuade him from his purpose. M’Phail was asked to offer up prayer in behalf of the afflicted woman. This he did with even more than his usual fervour and earnestness, making use of the following words: ’O Thou who art thrice holy, I implore Thee not to allow me to rise from my knees, should they rot to the earth, until Thou makest it visibly known here that there is a God in Israel.’ The prayer was speedily answered. Before the wrestler rose from his prostration, the patient was loosened from her bonds, and so calmed and restored that she sat up and conversed with him and others in a sound mind, giving glory to God.

The direct route from Croy to Resolis is by Fort George ferry. The Fort lies on a point jutting out into the Moray Firth. It was built in the middle of last [eighteenth] century at the cost of a quarter of a million, with accommodation for three thousand troops. Near the water edge may be seen the building used one hundred and thirty years ago as shambles for the supply of the military. As M’Phail was there one day with his faithful pony waiting for the ferry-boat, a profane soldier, whose name was Luke Heywood (a private in an English regiment stationed at the Fort), came out to purchase meat, and asked the price of a leg of mutton in the butcher’s stall. On being told the cost, the godless soldier imprecated damnation on his own soul if ever he gave that price for the joint. But the butcher was inexorable, and much loud wrangling ended in payment of the original demand.

M’Phail was all the while standing near and much shocked at the profanity of the purchaser. As Luke Heywood turned in the direction of the Fort entrance, he was kindly saluted by the minister, who remarked, ‘What a fine leg of mutton you have got there!’ ‘Yes,’ was the reply, ’and was it not cheap?’ ‘What, may I ask, did you pay for it?’ ‘So much.’ ‘Nay, you are mistaken; I, in waiting for the boat, overheard the bargain. You prayed that God might damn your soul if ever you gave the sum you have just named. Know you not that you have bartered your soul for that piece of meat?’ And now the way was opened for those solemn appeals which the devoted pastor was so skilful in addressing to the conscience. At length, bidding the soldier farewell, M’Phail stepped into the ferryboat, which had by this time reached the pebbly beach.

‘The words of the wise are as goads,’ and they pierced Heywood to the heart. As he returned to the barracks a tumult of emotion swept over his soul. He tried hard, but could not shake off his convictions. The doom of a lost soul was thundering louder in his ears than all the cannonry of the Fort! At length, in his agony, he rushed out bareheaded to the ferry, and asked for the gentleman with the grey pony. Of course he was told that the person he inquired after was the well-known minister of Resolis, who by this time was far advanced on his way home. Then in his agitation he said he must hurry on after him, and, after some enquiries as to the way, leaped into the ferryboat now leaving for another passage. Arrived at the north side, he hastened along the shore, and over the heath-covered ridge that separates Rosemarkie parish from Resolis. Towards evening he arrived at the manse door, and received a most cordial welcome.

There he remained three days -- days of concentrated agony such as Saul passed at Damascus. All that tradition has handed down in regard to that period of soul conflict is Mr. M’Phail’s remark: ‘Poor Luke Heywood in three days passed through those depths in which I sank and struggled for so many long months.’ Then there came the bright dawn of deliverance, and with ‘the oil of joy for mourning’ Heywood returned to Fort George. One can fancy his feelings and emotions as he re-crossed the ferry and gazed on the haunts of his former dissipation. Forthwith he began to keep a prayer meeting which the soldiers attended with feelings like those of the hearers of the newly-converted Saul of Tarsus, and similar results followed. Country people from neighbouring parishes often mingled with the redcoats in listening to the wonderful things God had done to the fervid convert’s soul, and had their hearts bowed as they joined in the prayers of the contrite spirit. Thus many soldiers and civilians, hitherto strangers to grace and to God, were brought to a saving interest in Christ. Persecution because of the Word was not long in arising, but in a remarkable manner it led ‘to the furtherance of the gospel’. After some time the regiment was ordered back to England, where Heywood obtained his discharge from the army. He is said to have laboured with success as a dissenting minister until his death.

The accounts handed down of M’Phail’s deathbed sayings and experiences are what might have been expected of so devout and self-denying a Christian. His profound humility shone out in his life, and like the setting sun gilded with surpassing lustre his closing hours. One night he was very restless, and kind friends asked the cause of his uneasiness, when he replied: ‘I feel as sure of being for ever with my Saviour as I am of lying on this bed, but I know not how I can look Him in the face, when I think of how little I have done for Him.’ As he lay in weakness he dreamed that he stood lonely and miserable outside the New Jerusalem, and gazing wistfully at the closed gateway. He sees company after company -- patriarchs, prophets, apostles, reformers -- finding an abundant entrance into the joy of their Lord, while he, forlorn and wretched, seems excluded. At length a solitary pilgrim comes up. It is Manasseh, behind whom he creeps. Amid rapturous melody he moves on through the opening gateway. The glory of heaven flashes in his face, and with the sound in his ears of the gate closing behind him, he awakes to find it a dream. It is the lifelong sense of his utter unworthiness asserting itself strongly in this vision of the night.

The hour of his departure is at hand. On the 7th January, 1774, Calder notes in his Diary: ‘Heard today with sorrow that my very dear and worthy brother, Mr. Hector M’Phail, was extremely low and weak in body, and not likely to live any time. Happy, unconceivably happy, will that change be to him, whatever time it comes. But oh, what a loss to his flock, his family, the Church, and to me!’ On Sabbath, the 23rd of January he entered into the rest eternal. Amid great lamentation his remains were carried to the churchyard of Cullicudden, in the upper end of Resolis. On the freestone flag that covers his grave is still legible the inscription: ‘Here lies the body of the holy man of God, and faithful servant of Jesus Christ, Mr. Hector M’Phail, minister of the Gospel in this parish, who died 23rd January, 1774, aged 58 years.’

There is ample testimony extant as to the distinguished place occupied by M’Phail in the golden age of the religion of the Highlands. Calder’s Diary, already referred to, gives us interesting glimpses of the rare ability with which he preached the gospel at communion seasons. After M’Phail’s death he writes: ‘Received the mournful news of the much-to-be-lamented death of the most eminently pious, zealous, active, laborious minister of Christ I ever saw, and the most lovely image of his adorable Lord and Master that ever I was acquainted with. Alas, a brave standard-bearer, a great prince in Israel is fallen in Israel…. He was exceeding high in the sphere of grace below, and now he is exceeding high in the regions of glory. He will have many a jewel to adorn his pastoral crown, and to rejoice his honest heart.’

An eminent teacher of high mental endowments and great Christian experience, who knew M’Phail well, poured out the grief of his bereaved heart in a Gaelic elegy of 228 lines. It gives expression to the deep and widespread sorrow that pervaded the Church in the North. It tells of the fiery furnace of soul-anguish in which the deceased evangelist was prepared to be the means of dealing with distressed consciences, and comforting the broken-hearted. ‘Of unsurpassed pulpit power, he was unceasingly anxious to benefit every soul that came within his reach. Distinguished by uncommon faithfulness in every department of his office, he was valiant for truth in Presbytery, Synod and General Assembly. How bright his crown!’ (‘Met. Reliques’).

Two of M’Phail’s sons entered the ministry. James died, minister of Daviot, near Inverness, in 1839. William was for many years the eminent and widely-respected minister of the Scotch Church in Amsterdam.