Mr. J. Townsend Trench, Land Agent and Evangelist.

AT the time of the great evangelistic work in Ireland, which followed the Revival of 1859, there were twelve young men of the name of Trench, all more or less related, who preached the Gospel throughout the country, and were known as the twelve apostles.
The subject of our sketch, Mr. J. TOWNSEND TRENCH is the second son of the late William Stewart Trench, the author of “Realities of Irish Life,” and was with his father in most of the scenes described in that book. When young, he was an able oarsman, particularly in a heavy sea. He was once capsized with two men, neither of whom could swim, and was the means of saving their lives by keeping them both afloat until a boat arrived and them up, for which he got the medal of the Royal Humane Society.
In the “Realities of Irish Life,” we find an extraordinary escapade of Mr. Townsend Trench's some years after the event we have recorded. He swam at midnight into a cave off the West Coast of Ireland, armed with a club, to attack some seals. He killed one, and brought it out to the boat where the rest of the party were waiting near Ballinskelligs Bay.
Some twenty-eight years ago, when Mr. Townsend Trench was quite a young man, a religious revival took place in the County Kerry, where he resided. At that time, a man named Fernley, commission boatman, under Captain Kearney White, Commander of the Coastguard Division of Valencia, County Kerry, who was a zealous Christian, spoke to him about his careless life, and urged on him that the life beyond the grave ought to be his first concern. At a prayer-meeting at which Fernley took part, he said that Jesus Christ came down to give pardon and eternal life to bad people. Mr. Trench asked him why he made so wrong a statement, Fernley inquired, “But whom, then, did He come to save?”
Mr. T. ‘‘Oh, good people, of course.”
F. “But God says, ‘There is none good.”
Mr. T. “Oh, that is only quibbling, for you know that one is a deal worse than another.”
F. “But, sir, God says, ‘There is no difference, for all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.’ ”
Mr. T. “Why, man, if that were true, there would be salvation for me.”
F. “And that is the very thing I am trying to tell you all this evening.”
Not long after this, Mr. Trench wrote to his father to tell him that he had learned from the coastguardsman that pardon, life, and peace were to be had freely, and that he had sought and found these blessings. His father wrote back to say, “My dear boy, I rather think you must have found what I have been searching for during the past five and twenty years.” After some time, he too found that peace with God which the world can neither give nor take away and took part in Gospel meetings for many years afterwards.
His brother, likewise, Thomas Weldon Trench, became a very active evangelist, and lost his life in his efforts to assist the suffering soldiers at the time of the Franco-German war.
Having followed the profession of his father, that of land agent, Mr. Trench, of course, found himself on many occasions in troublous waters. He is known to be one of the best shots with a revolver in Ireland. At the same time, we learn, upon inquiry, that he is by no means unpopular. The Irish tenants give him credit for consideration as well as firmness in the discharge of his difficult duties, and if “Paddy at home” is to be believed, he wins the heart of many of the peasantry by his skill and kindness as a doctor.
When the plan of campaign was adopted in Ireland, the estates under Mr. Trench’s management did not altogether escape, particularly at a place called Luggacurran. There it appears that Mr. O’Brien (who is now in gaol) hoisted the campaign flag. The rental of that estate is about £7000 a year. The landlord has expended, since Mr. Trench became agent, £20,000 upon the improvement of that estate, and for the benefit of his tenants, and for this large expenditure, he has made an addition to his rental of only £300 a year. The holdings are mostly large, and the tenants comfortable, paying rents varying from £20 to about £1000 a year. The houses are slated and well appointed, and the landlord offered his tenants an abatement of 20 per cent. But these terms the agitators refused. Mr. Kilbride, one of the leading tenants, who paid a rent of £700 a year, declared that they were able to pay but would not pay, on principle, as the tenants, and not the landlord, must decide what abatement should be given. Thereupon several of the tenants, who had refused the terms offered, were evicted, and this led to Mr. O'Brien declaring that he would go over and drive Lord Lansdowne out of Canada. But, as we all know, the Canadian feeling was entirely with Lord Lansdowne, and the only result of Mr. O’Brien’s visit to Canada was enormously to increase Lord Lansdowne’s popularity.
We have recently been in Ireland, and, although we have made considerable inquiry, we have not heard Mr. Trench spoken of as a harsh agent. On the contrary, we have heard that he is sometimes regarded by the landlords as somewhat too lenient and inclined to side with the tenants. He never has been fired at, has never received a threatening letter, or even an insult. He never has had police protection, and to this hour, rides his bicycle by day or night through Luggacurran, the scene of Mr. O'Brien’s most violent agitation, as well as in all other parts of the country, particularly in County Kerry, where he principally resides.
In the midst of this strange career and occupation, Mr. Trench is an active evangelist. Gifted with a strong voice, a clear head and excellent health, he preaches where invited, in barns, churches, or the open air.
Mr. Trench seems to be, strange to say, on excellent terms with the priests and their flocks. We heard recently a characteristic story about him, and a priest in the County Wicklow for whom he is said to have entertained the greatest friendship. It appears that the priest had hurt his leg in getting off a car. Mr. Trench said he thought he could cure him. “God bless you, sir,” said the priest; “I wish you would do so. I have suffered a great deal with it for a good while past.”
Mr. T. “Well, let me see the leg.”
Priest. ‘‘Here it is—very sore, and very painful.”
Mr. T. “I will call on you at six this evening with an ointment.”
He did so, applied the ointment with bandages steeped in cold water, and in a few days the leg was perfectly cured.
“My dear Trench,” said the priest afterwards, “I pray for you every morning of my life.” To which Mr. Trench replied, “I am very grateful, for I believe God will hear your prayers; and I believe that we shall meet in Heaven.”
Ireland is a strange but, in our opinion, a noble country, and her people, a noble people. The great Daniel O'Connell stated many times in the House of Commons that she had ‘‘the finest pisantry in the world” (as he called them), for proof of which, without going to the army and navy, we have only to look nearer home, and Her Majesty has not in all her dominions a finer body of men than the Royal Irish Constabulary—of whom two-thirds are Roman Catholics, and the great majority of whom are taken from the Irish peasantry, and are sons of Irish farmers. We cannot but feel that if the resources of this noble country were developed, and that if this generous people had received more of that love from those in authority which God commands, and had a greater acquaintance with the riches of God’s Word, there would be much less material poverty, and much less social disaffection, than prevail in the Ireland of 1887.
Mr. Townsend Trench has sent us the following letter, dated December 12:-—
Passing through London, I went to see Mr. Denham Smith, and found him lying on a comfortable little couch in the room adjoining his bed-room. He looked very weak, but otherwise very much as heretofore, and kissed me most affectionately, and with his arm round my neck spoke so lovingly. I asked him to remember me most tenderly to my father, my brother, and others whom I named, and whom he would very soon see.
He said:—Yes, yes, dear fellow, what a meeting it will be. God fills me now with the thought that He was in Christ—in Christ—reconciling the world unto Himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them. I was deep down in the mire when God said to me; ‘‘Now take all your failures, all your sins, and place them to the account of my dear Son. I will not impute them to you.” I soon shall be on the shoreless continent of glory, and then I shall understand the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. I have preached it, oh! so poorly. I have lived in it, and now I am going to occupy it, for He has gone to prepare a place for me. My life and work for Him are not what I rest on now, but on His blood. You know He is clothed in a vesture dipped in blood. But then people cannot understand that. I often think of the infatuated religious men who do not know Christ. They have plenty of religion, but no Christ. Now, do you understand about the cloak that was over the tabernacle? Those outside could see no beauty in it, but those inside, saw the glory of the Lord.
And that dear fellow Gilbart [his son]. His love to me is wonderful. Three times every day he comes to see me, and he brought me so tenderly from the Isle of Wight; and then he had an ambulance to bring me here. He called it bringing me home, but this is not home. I am going home.
But be sure to preach the Gospel all you can, for only that is wisdom; the world thinks it folly, but on a deathbed, it is wisdom. Now I rejoice more than ever in it. Do you remember those happy days long ago in Ireland when first we knew the power of the Gospel—those wondrous days? They began at Kingstown. And now one word of prayer. God bless you. Good-bye. It won’t be long till we meet again. 
“The Christian” Dec. 16, 1887