‘What fearful people the Nihilists are! When one reads of them, one seems to see Satan let loose! There is some similarity between India and Russia. Perhaps some years hence a Nihilist crop may rise from tens of thousands of sharp conceited lads whom the Government so carefully educatewithout God! They cannot possibly all get the prizes in life which they look for; theywon’tdig,—so will naturally swell the dangerous classes. Such dear lads as we have here will be, we trust, as the salt in the mass. But they may have a difficult work before them.’
‘What fearful people the Nihilists are! When one reads of them, one seems to see Satan let loose! There is some similarity between India and Russia. Perhaps some years hence a Nihilist crop may rise from tens of thousands of sharp conceited lads whom the Government so carefully educatewithout God! They cannot possibly all get the prizes in life which they look for; theywon’tdig,—so will naturally swell the dangerous classes. Such dear lads as we have here will be, we trust, as the salt in the mass. But they may have a difficult work before them.’
Two letters in February to two nieces must not be passed over. In the first we have a glimpse of the dark as well as of the hopeful side:—
‘Feb. 2.—That most unhappy lad, ——, seems to be a thorough hypocrite. Only a day or so after professing himself a true penitent, and kneeling in seeming prayer at my side, he has, we hear, been actually preaching in the bazaar here against the Christians.... The subject is too sad to dwell upon; but it is better that I should let you know at once, as I sent home so hopeful a letter.‘Fancy poor E. Bibi actually paying me a visit here yesterday evening. The delicate creature longed to come. I told her to ask her husband’s leave, and suggested that he had better come with her. She asked me to send my kahar in the morning, and she would send a message by him as to whether her “Sahib” consented or not. The answer was favourable; so I made arrangements to have two dulis at her door after dark, for E., her mother, and her two little girls. I warned our boys to keep out of the chapel, into which I first introduced the Bibis. I went to the harmonium, and sang to it, “Jesus lives,” and two or three verses of the Advent hymn, etc. While we were in the chapel the husband joined us, sat down, and quietly listened. He was very silent, which I think showed good manners.‘We then all proceeded up our long staircase.... I offered tea,but no one drank it; the children ate some pudding, and I presented each of them with one of the dolls which your dear Mother sent out, which I have had dressed.... I think the party were pleased. I wonder what thoughts were passing in the mind of that silent husband. He knows perfectly well what I visit his wife for; for in Batala we do not hide our colours at all. I sometimes think that dear M.[94]dashes right at the enemy almost too boldly; but as she is a supposed descendant of Muhammad, I dare say that her dauntless intrepidity has a good effect. I do not find the women made angry even by what must startle them. Of course one’s manner must be gentle and conciliating, even when meeting the question, “Do you think that Muhammad told lies?” with a simple straightforward, “Yes.”‘I think that not a few Batala women do now believe that our religion is the right one, and that our Blessed Lord is the Saviour of sinners. But this belief may exist for years before there is any desire for Baptism.’
‘Feb. 2.—That most unhappy lad, ——, seems to be a thorough hypocrite. Only a day or so after professing himself a true penitent, and kneeling in seeming prayer at my side, he has, we hear, been actually preaching in the bazaar here against the Christians.... The subject is too sad to dwell upon; but it is better that I should let you know at once, as I sent home so hopeful a letter.
‘Fancy poor E. Bibi actually paying me a visit here yesterday evening. The delicate creature longed to come. I told her to ask her husband’s leave, and suggested that he had better come with her. She asked me to send my kahar in the morning, and she would send a message by him as to whether her “Sahib” consented or not. The answer was favourable; so I made arrangements to have two dulis at her door after dark, for E., her mother, and her two little girls. I warned our boys to keep out of the chapel, into which I first introduced the Bibis. I went to the harmonium, and sang to it, “Jesus lives,” and two or three verses of the Advent hymn, etc. While we were in the chapel the husband joined us, sat down, and quietly listened. He was very silent, which I think showed good manners.
‘We then all proceeded up our long staircase.... I offered tea,but no one drank it; the children ate some pudding, and I presented each of them with one of the dolls which your dear Mother sent out, which I have had dressed.... I think the party were pleased. I wonder what thoughts were passing in the mind of that silent husband. He knows perfectly well what I visit his wife for; for in Batala we do not hide our colours at all. I sometimes think that dear M.[94]dashes right at the enemy almost too boldly; but as she is a supposed descendant of Muhammad, I dare say that her dauntless intrepidity has a good effect. I do not find the women made angry even by what must startle them. Of course one’s manner must be gentle and conciliating, even when meeting the question, “Do you think that Muhammad told lies?” with a simple straightforward, “Yes.”
‘I think that not a few Batala women do now believe that our religion is the right one, and that our Blessed Lord is the Saviour of sinners. But this belief may exist for years before there is any desire for Baptism.’
‘Feb. 6.—One visit which I paid in the former place (Amritsar) would have warmed your heart. In a cottage in the Mission compound, occupied by one of the Bible-women, I found three who doubtless will inherit the blessing promised to all who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. There was dear faithful Begum J., and her daughter, K. (now a Bible-woman). These are the two who, as you may remember, were threatened with a razor by Begum J.’s husband, and fled, and were afterwards baptized. They had come to see another brave Convert, who had been baptized on the previous day.‘A fierce crowd had attacked her, tore the jewels from her ears, beat her on the head, threatened to cut off her nose! How she escaped she cannot tell; she was bewildered. Perhaps some unseen Angel took her by the hand. She reachedsomehowa duli, which was in waiting for her, and was baptized the same day.’
‘Feb. 6.—One visit which I paid in the former place (Amritsar) would have warmed your heart. In a cottage in the Mission compound, occupied by one of the Bible-women, I found three who doubtless will inherit the blessing promised to all who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. There was dear faithful Begum J., and her daughter, K. (now a Bible-woman). These are the two who, as you may remember, were threatened with a razor by Begum J.’s husband, and fled, and were afterwards baptized. They had come to see another brave Convert, who had been baptized on the previous day.
‘A fierce crowd had attacked her, tore the jewels from her ears, beat her on the head, threatened to cut off her nose! How she escaped she cannot tell; she was bewildered. Perhaps some unseen Angel took her by the hand. She reachedsomehowa duli, which was in waiting for her, and was baptized the same day.’
The school was so growing, that by March 1880 a good many of the boys had to sleep on the floor which formerly had been reserved entirely for Europeans. This Miss Tucker did not mind.
Before the end of March she had to bid good-bye to her dharm-nephew, who was starting for England. It musthave given her a strange feeling, thus to see one and another leave for the dear old country, which she so loved, and yet which she had resolved never of her own free will to see again.
The previous day a feast was given in Mr. Baring’s honour, the boys ‘subscribing to buy the little dainties’; and ‘speeches of love and gratitude’ being made. Then, in the early morning, long before dawn, Miss Tucker felt her way down the dark staircase, to see the traveller off. ‘The babies,’ as she called some of the tinier brown boys, were there also; one small orphan looking ‘sad and thoughtful’ over the farewell. Bigger boys also came down, and they waited in the Chapel till the Principal appeared. Shakings of hands were followed by cheers, as Mr. Baring drove away in the dâk-gari,—‘probably with mingled feelings,’ writes Miss Tucker. One is disposed to wonder whatherfeelings were, as she turned back into the palace; alone among her companions; the only European in that Eastern city! Yet no signs of heart-quailing can be seen in the letter to her sister, written on the same day.
In this spring of 1880 came another event of importance,—the ‘Disruption’ of the older Zenana Society, under which Charlotte Tucker had worked as an Honorary Member.
There is no necessity to enter fully here into the causes which led to that disruption. To some of us it may seem to have been, sooner or later, almost inevitable. Until that date the attempt had been made to work on what are sometimes called ‘un-denominational lines,’—which meant that the Missionaries might be either Churchwomen or Dissenters, each teaching according to her own convictions. A difficult programme to carry out, one is disposed to imagine! After a while friction arose in the Governing Body at home. Since by far the larger majority ofworkers in the field belonged to the Anglican Church, it was rightly considered that the Governing Body ought to consist of an equally large majority of Church people; and on this point the split took place. The Society broke into two parts. The one part remained more or less Dissenting; the other part became distinctly and exclusively Church of England. Each Missionary had to make her own decision as to which she would join; and Charlotte Tucker at least had no hesitation in the matter. On the 12th of May she wrote:—
‘Here I am at home again, after my strange little visit to Amritsar; short, but by no means unimportant. All our five ladies have crossed the Rubicon; they have sent in their resignations, with the usual six months’ notice. It remains to be seen whether the new “Church of England Zenana Society” will orcantake them all on! We know not what the state of their funds will be, as they begin on nothing. Our ladies, with Mr. Weitbrecht the Secretary, seemed to have no hesitation as to what course to pursue,—that of resignation.... I am very desirous to know what dear Margaret Elmslie and Emily will do.... How the complicated machinery of the Mission will work during the strange interregnum I know not.... One expects a sort of little—not exactly chaos, but—struggling along in a fog, for the next six months; and then we shall probably see our way clearly.’
‘Here I am at home again, after my strange little visit to Amritsar; short, but by no means unimportant. All our five ladies have crossed the Rubicon; they have sent in their resignations, with the usual six months’ notice. It remains to be seen whether the new “Church of England Zenana Society” will orcantake them all on! We know not what the state of their funds will be, as they begin on nothing. Our ladies, with Mr. Weitbrecht the Secretary, seemed to have no hesitation as to what course to pursue,—that of resignation.... I am very desirous to know what dear Margaret Elmslie and Emily will do.... How the complicated machinery of the Mission will work during the strange interregnum I know not.... One expects a sort of little—not exactly chaos, but—struggling along in a fog, for the next six months; and then we shall probably see our way clearly.’
On the following day she sent in her own resignation. Little more appears about the subject in later letters. As an Honorary Worker her own position was not affected, nor was her income placed in jeopardy; and soon the new ‘Church of England Zenana Society,’ being warmly taken up, was in full working order. Amongst those who joined it were her friends, Mrs. Elmslie and Miss Wauton.
At this time she was becoming very anxious for the return of Mrs. Elmslie, who had been detained in England far longer than was at first intended, by family claims. Sometimes a fear was expressed that Mrs. Elmslie might never return; and no one else could fill her place. Charlotte Tucker did not dream of the happy consummation ahead.Two or three references to her earlier days occur in June and July, as if some cause had sent her thoughts backward.
‘June 4, 1880.—I think, love, that one gets into a kind of social fetters. When we were young we had the worry of a footboy at our heels,—it was thought suitable for our position. (Do you remember dear Fanny’s lovely definition of that word?) When I was in Edinburgh, dear —— was surprised, and I think a little shocked, at “my father’s daughter” going in omnibuses. As if it were any disgrace to my father’s middle-aged daughter to do what her precious princely Sire had done a hundred times! O Laura, when one throws aside these trammels of social position, one feels like a horse taken out of harness, and set free in a nice green meadow. Our honoured Father! what true dignity was his,—but how he shook off the trammels!‘To be mean and miserly is quite another thing. That dishonours our profession. One should be ready to entertain hospitably, and to pay for work done handsomely; there is a free hand and a generous spirit quite consistent with economy.’
‘June 4, 1880.—I think, love, that one gets into a kind of social fetters. When we were young we had the worry of a footboy at our heels,—it was thought suitable for our position. (Do you remember dear Fanny’s lovely definition of that word?) When I was in Edinburgh, dear —— was surprised, and I think a little shocked, at “my father’s daughter” going in omnibuses. As if it were any disgrace to my father’s middle-aged daughter to do what her precious princely Sire had done a hundred times! O Laura, when one throws aside these trammels of social position, one feels like a horse taken out of harness, and set free in a nice green meadow. Our honoured Father! what true dignity was his,—but how he shook off the trammels!
‘To be mean and miserly is quite another thing. That dishonours our profession. One should be ready to entertain hospitably, and to pay for work done handsomely; there is a free hand and a generous spirit quite consistent with economy.’
‘July 13.—Yes, love, we did intensely enjoy those concerts in H. Square. I want you to enjoy more concerts. It is curious how useful I have found my little music in the evening of my days. I sometimes think of dear Mother’s words to me,—“Do not give up your music.”’
‘July 13.—Yes, love, we did intensely enjoy those concerts in H. Square. I want you to enjoy more concerts. It is curious how useful I have found my little music in the evening of my days. I sometimes think of dear Mother’s words to me,—“Do not give up your music.”’
In July, when Miss Tucker was congratulating herself that half the time of Mr. Baring’s absence was over, a letter arrived speaking of lengthened furlough. She was much distressed, fearing harm to the school, and for a while was assailed by fears that perhaps he and also Mrs. Elmslie might never return. Happily these fears were groundless; but plans were afloat for some temporary arrangement while the Principal remained away. Miss Wauton too was at this time taking her well-earned furlough in England, and workers were sorely needed in the Panjab; while new untrained Missionaries on first going out could do little. ‘We want Margaret,’ was the burden of her cry; to which was now added, ‘We want Mr. Baring.’
For herself she had no thought of a furlough. Friends thought of it for her; and she put the idea resolutely aside. Writing to Mrs. Hamilton on September 6, she said: ‘And now for a more important subject, broached in your sweet letter. I do not feel that it would be either wise as regards myself, or right as regards my work, to go home next year. The great fatigue of two journeys, the excitement of meeting loved ones, and the wrench of parting again,—I doubt how my health could stand it. As regards the work—I need not expatiate. It would look as if I thought much of the little that I could do; but little is better than nothing. It seems to me that one of the most useful things about me is that—hitherto—I have stuck pretty close to my Station. If I were a Native Christian, I think that I should be tempted to hate the very word “going home,” and to regard Europe as a trap for my Missionaries. Let them, if possible, have arestfulfeeling in regard to at least one old woman, whom they are ready to love.’
And a few days later to Miss Hamilton, on September 14:—
‘Your sweet Mother threw out a suggestion about my going home next year; but it seems to me, love, that if I did so,—unless circumstances change,—I should deserve to be shot as a deserter. Even if I were to become blind or paralytic, I believe that it would be well to stick to Batala. I am the only apology for a European Missionary here; and, curiously enough, my veryageis an advantage. What might be a great hindrance elsewhere is rather a help here.’
‘Your sweet Mother threw out a suggestion about my going home next year; but it seems to me, love, that if I did so,—unless circumstances change,—I should deserve to be shot as a deserter. Even if I were to become blind or paralytic, I believe that it would be well to stick to Batala. I am the only apology for a European Missionary here; and, curiously enough, my veryageis an advantage. What might be a great hindrance elsewhere is rather a help here.’
In a letter of September 14 occurs a passage about apparent success or non-success in work. She had perhaps comforted herself from time to time with such thoughts as follow.
Speaking about a certain American religious book, which had been lent to her by one who greatly admired it, and about Mr. Bateman’s opinion of the same volume,she observes: ‘What Rowland most objected to was the American affirming that if you take certain means to effect conversions, the result is as sure as harvest following breaking up the ground. As Rowland says, we cannot even break up the ground without God.... Are we to conclude that —— and —— are truer workers than dear —— spending his strength in breaking stones at K., while the sheaves almost drop into the reapers’ arms at D.? Did our Blessed Lord Himself, Who was always sowing golden seed, reap a very large harvest during His Ministry? St. Peter’s first sermon drew in a far greater number than all the disciples of the Blessed Lord before His Resurrection put together.’
It was evident that, although she must have felt her lonely position, she was gradually becoming used to it; even so far as not at all to wish for a strange young lady as a companion. Mrs. Hamilton had made strong representations to the Society at home of the need of a helper at Batala; and the letters given next seem to have been written partly in consequence of this.
As early as the spring of 1880 Miss Tucker could say: ‘I used to think it rather tiresome when business took both my English companions for a few days away; now I am quite serene if I do not see a white face for months.’ And in November of the same year: ‘As to earthly blessings, they abound; the Natives are my real friends. The Lord gives abundant grace, and cheers me with His Presence; and I have such joy in the companionship of my Bible, that I do not miss the society I should otherwise value. Do not send a helper to me, when many other parts of India need it so much more.’
Again, on September 27:—
‘It is very loving in you to be so anxious for me to have a lady-companion. But, unless a Missionary’s wife, one might far from add either to my comfort or usefulness. To put aside the possibility ofher being eloquent,—a late sitter-up,—of a melancholy or nervous temperament, or often ailing,—I really have no spare space for a lady companion. She must share my bath-room, if not my bedroom; and in India this would be very uncomfortable.‘But why, you may say, should there be more room for a married pair than for one maiden lady? The answer is simple enough. If agentlemanwere here, the large family of the Singhas would give up their rooms and move to the Banyans. Wemusthave a gentleman Superintendent.’
‘It is very loving in you to be so anxious for me to have a lady-companion. But, unless a Missionary’s wife, one might far from add either to my comfort or usefulness. To put aside the possibility ofher being eloquent,—a late sitter-up,—of a melancholy or nervous temperament, or often ailing,—I really have no spare space for a lady companion. She must share my bath-room, if not my bedroom; and in India this would be very uncomfortable.
‘But why, you may say, should there be more room for a married pair than for one maiden lady? The answer is simple enough. If agentlemanwere here, the large family of the Singhas would give up their rooms and move to the Banyans. Wemusthave a gentleman Superintendent.’
Later in the same letter comes a reference to one of the Heroes of her enthusiastic girlhood. Lady Outram and her gallant husband had been intimate friends of the Tucker family; and many a loving message in these later years was sent home by Charlotte Tucker to the former.
‘I have been reading much of the noble Outram’s Memoir to-day. As far as I have gone, I think that the Biographer has done his work well. The Outram of the book is just the Outram who was the admiration of our girlhood,—generous, chivalrous, noble! One feels how much pain that fine spirit would have been saved, had he realised how little it really matters whether good service be appreciated or not by man, if the great Leader accept it,—if all be done as to Him Who never overlooks or misunderstands! To our own Master we stand or fall; let earthly superiors say what they will.’
‘I have been reading much of the noble Outram’s Memoir to-day. As far as I have gone, I think that the Biographer has done his work well. The Outram of the book is just the Outram who was the admiration of our girlhood,—generous, chivalrous, noble! One feels how much pain that fine spirit would have been saved, had he realised how little it really matters whether good service be appreciated or not by man, if the great Leader accept it,—if all be done as to Him Who never overlooks or misunderstands! To our own Master we stand or fall; let earthly superiors say what they will.’
‘Oct. 16.—Dear, excellent —— thinks that my not having a “Revival” in Batala is because I do not study his favourite author. You can hardly have aRevivalunless there has been some life before.... Our work is more like clearing in backwoods,—there are huge trees and boulders cumbering the ground; not just weeds overspreading a garden that once was a little cultivated. Then here women cannot read, and do not choose to learn.... I like Miss Havergal’sKept for the Master’s Useso much. It is beautiful. But I do not feel with her that it is possible on Earth to have ourwillexactlyonewith God’s. Even the Blessed Saviour made a distinction between “My Will” and “Thy Will.” Dear C. T. T., for instance, submitted sweetly to her heavy trials; but it could not be herwill, it was hercross, to lose all her nearest and dearest, and see her father ill for so many years.’
‘Oct. 16.—Dear, excellent —— thinks that my not having a “Revival” in Batala is because I do not study his favourite author. You can hardly have aRevivalunless there has been some life before.... Our work is more like clearing in backwoods,—there are huge trees and boulders cumbering the ground; not just weeds overspreading a garden that once was a little cultivated. Then here women cannot read, and do not choose to learn.... I like Miss Havergal’sKept for the Master’s Useso much. It is beautiful. But I do not feel with her that it is possible on Earth to have ourwillexactlyonewith God’s. Even the Blessed Saviour made a distinction between “My Will” and “Thy Will.” Dear C. T. T., for instance, submitted sweetly to her heavy trials; but it could not be herwill, it was hercross, to lose all her nearest and dearest, and see her father ill for so many years.’
‘Dec. 15, 1880.—Dear Mr. Clark’s return has caused so much joy. The Native Christians have had a loving address to him printed inletters of gold. I fancy that a general feeling is, “Now there is a hand on the reins.” ... Mr. Clark is an experienced and skilful driver. True, he is very weak, but he bringsbrains, and a power of organisation. If he were a prisoner to his room he might be very valuable still.... He was sadly missed....’
‘Dec. 15, 1880.—Dear Mr. Clark’s return has caused so much joy. The Native Christians have had a loving address to him printed inletters of gold. I fancy that a general feeling is, “Now there is a hand on the reins.” ... Mr. Clark is an experienced and skilful driver. True, he is very weak, but he bringsbrains, and a power of organisation. If he were a prisoner to his room he might be very valuable still.... He was sadly missed....’
‘Dec. 17.—Please, love, make no plans for bringing ladies to Batala. It is so awkward to me to have to explain to nice enthusiastic ladies that they cannot come. This is not a place except for elderly or married ladies. If Mera Bhatija would bring out a nice wife, it would give much pleasure; at present plans and propositions only—I must not say burden me—but they do not help me. I do very well as I am; I have had, through God’s goodness, a happy year; and if I were to be ill, I wouldratherbe doctored by our Sikh, and nursed by our Natives. As for visitors, we have hardly any except in the cooler weather; and a little packing then does no harm.’
‘Dec. 17.—Please, love, make no plans for bringing ladies to Batala. It is so awkward to me to have to explain to nice enthusiastic ladies that they cannot come. This is not a place except for elderly or married ladies. If Mera Bhatija would bring out a nice wife, it would give much pleasure; at present plans and propositions only—I must not say burden me—but they do not help me. I do very well as I am; I have had, through God’s goodness, a happy year; and if I were to be ill, I wouldratherbe doctored by our Sikh, and nursed by our Natives. As for visitors, we have hardly any except in the cooler weather; and a little packing then does no harm.’
Of the following extracts to Mrs. E——, only two of which are fully dated, all probably belong to about this period:—
‘July 23.—I saw to-day a sight which perhaps never met your eyes in India, and which I never wish to see again; though it was not without something of melancholy beauty. On Sunday towards dusk I was with some of the boys, and they called out “Locusts!” I looked up into the sky, and saw what my old eyes would have considered harmless clouds high above me; but the young eyes must have detected the motion of countless wings. To-day there was no possibility of mistake. I was in a Zenana, in the full light of day, gazing up at myriads and myriads,—dark against white clouds, light against the blue sky,—passing over Batala. They looked to me like God’s terrible army; so strong; so vigorous; not one amongst the millions appeared to be weary; not one did I see drop down as if faint from long flight. They flew as if they had a purpose; our fair green fields did not appear to tempt the destroyers,—only I saw a comparatively small number in one,—but they were clearly intent on going somewhere else. Alas for the land where they alight! A Native told me that they would probably come back again. How helpless is man against such a foe! We can only ask for mercy, as Pharaoh did.’
‘July 23.—I saw to-day a sight which perhaps never met your eyes in India, and which I never wish to see again; though it was not without something of melancholy beauty. On Sunday towards dusk I was with some of the boys, and they called out “Locusts!” I looked up into the sky, and saw what my old eyes would have considered harmless clouds high above me; but the young eyes must have detected the motion of countless wings. To-day there was no possibility of mistake. I was in a Zenana, in the full light of day, gazing up at myriads and myriads,—dark against white clouds, light against the blue sky,—passing over Batala. They looked to me like God’s terrible army; so strong; so vigorous; not one amongst the millions appeared to be weary; not one did I see drop down as if faint from long flight. They flew as if they had a purpose; our fair green fields did not appear to tempt the destroyers,—only I saw a comparatively small number in one,—but they were clearly intent on going somewhere else. Alas for the land where they alight! A Native told me that they would probably come back again. How helpless is man against such a foe! We can only ask for mercy, as Pharaoh did.’
‘Kangra,Aug. 21.—I paid a visit to Kangra fort yesterday; a grand picturesque place, holding a commanding position. The officerin command had prepared tea and cake for me, and the dear kind soldiers lemonade, so I was treated with much hospitality. They do not often see a lady up there. I have often thought of your dear M.’s words about the soldiers, and her wondering at my feeling shy with them. They are some of the pleasantest people in the world to have to do with.... While I was taking tea with the Commander, the soldiers were concocting a letter to say that they had collectedten rupeesto pay my expenses, and hoped that I would soon come again. I certainly do not want their money, poor dear fellows; and I mean to go again on Monday. Soldiers’ money seems to jump out of their purses of its own accord. In this the Natives are far behind them. Four soldiers—I think in Afghanistan—are uniting to support a little girl at the Amritsar Orphanage. They are charmed with the idea. I had nothing to do with it, except giving the Superintendent’s address. I have over and over again received help for the Mission from English soldiers, and I never ask them for it. Fine fellows!—and to think what they have to suffer!’
‘Kangra,Aug. 21.—I paid a visit to Kangra fort yesterday; a grand picturesque place, holding a commanding position. The officerin command had prepared tea and cake for me, and the dear kind soldiers lemonade, so I was treated with much hospitality. They do not often see a lady up there. I have often thought of your dear M.’s words about the soldiers, and her wondering at my feeling shy with them. They are some of the pleasantest people in the world to have to do with.... While I was taking tea with the Commander, the soldiers were concocting a letter to say that they had collectedten rupeesto pay my expenses, and hoped that I would soon come again. I certainly do not want their money, poor dear fellows; and I mean to go again on Monday. Soldiers’ money seems to jump out of their purses of its own accord. In this the Natives are far behind them. Four soldiers—I think in Afghanistan—are uniting to support a little girl at the Amritsar Orphanage. They are charmed with the idea. I had nothing to do with it, except giving the Superintendent’s address. I have over and over again received help for the Mission from English soldiers, and I never ask them for it. Fine fellows!—and to think what they have to suffer!’
‘Batala,Oct. 1, 1880.—I was amused to-day at what my kahar called out. I am quite accustomed, as I am borne along in my little duli, to hear my bearers shout, “Posh! posh!” (Hide! hide!), which is absurd enough, as if all must flee from my approach. But to-day was too absurd. I was, according to custom, walking to the city, with my kahars carrying my duli behind. There was a rider in front, mounted on a horse inclined to back. My attentive kahar, careful that the animal should not hurt me, cried out, “Save the horse!”—as if, instead of its kickingme, the danger was that a mild old lady approaching on foot should demolish the unfortunate animal!’
‘Batala,Oct. 1, 1880.—I was amused to-day at what my kahar called out. I am quite accustomed, as I am borne along in my little duli, to hear my bearers shout, “Posh! posh!” (Hide! hide!), which is absurd enough, as if all must flee from my approach. But to-day was too absurd. I was, according to custom, walking to the city, with my kahars carrying my duli behind. There was a rider in front, mounted on a horse inclined to back. My attentive kahar, careful that the animal should not hurt me, cried out, “Save the horse!”—as if, instead of its kickingme, the danger was that a mild old lady approaching on foot should demolish the unfortunate animal!’
‘Batala,Jan. 31, 1881.—As I was engaged yesterday with a party of our boys, I was interrupted by hearing that my poor dear Ayah had been stung—bitten, as the people incorrectly say—by a scorpion. I thought what could be done. I had happily by me some ipecacuanha, sent to me in 1879 by my dear kind sister, Laura, in case of such an emergency, and also pain-killer, which she forwarded to me more recently. Armed with these and a bit of tape, probably her present also, I hastened to the compound, and found my Ayah crying with the violent pain. She had already sucked the poor finger. I tied my tape round it, anointed it with a mixture of ipecacuanha and pain-killer, and gave some of the latter also internally. My Hannah appeared to derive some relief, but had much pain in the night. To-day, however, she is much better. I havenever seen either scorpion or centipede in Batala; but then my long staircase would present a formidable difficulty to such reptiles.’
‘Batala,Jan. 31, 1881.—As I was engaged yesterday with a party of our boys, I was interrupted by hearing that my poor dear Ayah had been stung—bitten, as the people incorrectly say—by a scorpion. I thought what could be done. I had happily by me some ipecacuanha, sent to me in 1879 by my dear kind sister, Laura, in case of such an emergency, and also pain-killer, which she forwarded to me more recently. Armed with these and a bit of tape, probably her present also, I hastened to the compound, and found my Ayah crying with the violent pain. She had already sucked the poor finger. I tied my tape round it, anointed it with a mixture of ipecacuanha and pain-killer, and gave some of the latter also internally. My Hannah appeared to derive some relief, but had much pain in the night. To-day, however, she is much better. I havenever seen either scorpion or centipede in Batala; but then my long staircase would present a formidable difficulty to such reptiles.’
About this time, hearing the boys one day singingThe Vicar of Bray, Miss Tucker wrote fresh words to suit the old tune, and taught them to her young companions. The second verse was curiously characteristic of herself.
‘The rushing torrent bears alongThe straw on its surface thrown, Sir;But the rock in its midst stands firm and strong,Although it stand alone, Sir.Oh, may our steadfast courage soIn danger’s hour be seen, Sir;And let the tide flow,And let the world go,We ‘ll be true to our Faith and our Queen, Sir!’
‘The rushing torrent bears alongThe straw on its surface thrown, Sir;But the rock in its midst stands firm and strong,Although it stand alone, Sir.Oh, may our steadfast courage soIn danger’s hour be seen, Sir;And let the tide flow,And let the world go,We ‘ll be true to our Faith and our Queen, Sir!’
‘The rushing torrent bears alongThe straw on its surface thrown, Sir;But the rock in its midst stands firm and strong,Although it stand alone, Sir.Oh, may our steadfast courage soIn danger’s hour be seen, Sir;And let the tide flow,And let the world go,We ‘ll be true to our Faith and our Queen, Sir!’
‘The rushing torrent bears along
The straw on its surface thrown, Sir;
But the rock in its midst stands firm and strong,
Although it stand alone, Sir.
Oh, may our steadfast courage so
In danger’s hour be seen, Sir;
And let the tide flow,
And let the world go,
We ‘ll be true to our Faith and our Queen, Sir!’
The greater part of 1881 passed much as 1880 had passed; Miss Tucker continuing to live in the old palace, busy and happy among her Indian friends, and cheery with the boys, having no second European within easy reach. But in the spring came an unexpected joy. News arrived that her dharm-nephew, the Rev. Francis Baring, was engaged to be married to her dearly-loved friend, Mrs. Elmslie, and that the two might be expected in Batala before the close of the year. Could Charlotte Tucker have had the shaping of events for herself, for her friends, and for Batala, one can well imagine that this is precisely what she would have chosen to take place. In the opening of the year, however, she had no idea of what would soon come.
‘Jan. 5, 1881.—In looking over my records of 1880, I find that in the nine, or rather eight months, of Mera Bhatija’s absence,—as I was away myself for a month,—I have given nearer seven hundred than six hundred teas to boys or young men. The expense is trifling; it seems as if a couple of pounds of tea lasted for ever; but all these little marks in my book represent a good deal of innocent enjoyment, not, I hope, unmixed with profit. All the boys, save two lately come, have again and again sat at my table, chatted or played with me.’
‘Jan. 5, 1881.—In looking over my records of 1880, I find that in the nine, or rather eight months, of Mera Bhatija’s absence,—as I was away myself for a month,—I have given nearer seven hundred than six hundred teas to boys or young men. The expense is trifling; it seems as if a couple of pounds of tea lasted for ever; but all these little marks in my book represent a good deal of innocent enjoyment, not, I hope, unmixed with profit. All the boys, save two lately come, have again and again sat at my table, chatted or played with me.’
‘Jan. 11.—I was with a poor weeping Bibi yesterday. Her heart was very heavy. She told me that her husband had forsaken her; he has gone away and married another. When I asked her in the presence of her companions who Christ is, she replied, “God’sSon.” “Why did He come from Heaven?” “To save us.” I wish that this forlorn one would throw herself on His love, and come into the Church. I read God’s Word to another Bibi to-day, who is in the same position,—desolate, forsaken, ready to listen. A third case is somewhat similar. You would think it comparatively easy for these forsaken ones to come out; but even to them the difficulties are immense. Where the husband is tolerably kind, the difficulty is next to insuperable; for marriage by Muhammadan law,—and I have lately been shocked to hear, by English law also,—isdissolvedby Baptism. This is dead against St. Paul’s directions as to the duty of believing wives towards unbelieving husbands; and you can imagine how it complicates the difficulties of Zenana visitors!... If one would express in one word the Missionary’s worst perplexity, I think that I would put down the word “marriage.”’
‘Jan. 11.—I was with a poor weeping Bibi yesterday. Her heart was very heavy. She told me that her husband had forsaken her; he has gone away and married another. When I asked her in the presence of her companions who Christ is, she replied, “God’sSon.” “Why did He come from Heaven?” “To save us.” I wish that this forlorn one would throw herself on His love, and come into the Church. I read God’s Word to another Bibi to-day, who is in the same position,—desolate, forsaken, ready to listen. A third case is somewhat similar. You would think it comparatively easy for these forsaken ones to come out; but even to them the difficulties are immense. Where the husband is tolerably kind, the difficulty is next to insuperable; for marriage by Muhammadan law,—and I have lately been shocked to hear, by English law also,—isdissolvedby Baptism. This is dead against St. Paul’s directions as to the duty of believing wives towards unbelieving husbands; and you can imagine how it complicates the difficulties of Zenana visitors!... If one would express in one word the Missionary’s worst perplexity, I think that I would put down the word “marriage.”’
‘Feb. 5, 1881.—I went to a wedding yesterday, one of the silly child-marrying affairs, with which the Hindus delight to ruin themselves and run into debt. Poor —— quite agreed with me that it is very foolish; but he and his relatives cannot resist dastur,[95]so both my kahars receive next to nothing for five months, to work out their debt to me. I had to do rather a difficult thing for an old lady, in order to get to the wedding-party, climb a real ladder—not very good—of eight rounds. I am not as agile as I used to be, and had to go up and up, and then down and down, very slowly and cautiously. To parody Byron’s lines—‘“The feat performed I—boots it well or ill,Since not to tumble down is something still....”
‘Feb. 5, 1881.—I went to a wedding yesterday, one of the silly child-marrying affairs, with which the Hindus delight to ruin themselves and run into debt. Poor —— quite agreed with me that it is very foolish; but he and his relatives cannot resist dastur,[95]so both my kahars receive next to nothing for five months, to work out their debt to me. I had to do rather a difficult thing for an old lady, in order to get to the wedding-party, climb a real ladder—not very good—of eight rounds. I am not as agile as I used to be, and had to go up and up, and then down and down, very slowly and cautiously. To parody Byron’s lines—
‘“The feat performed I—boots it well or ill,Since not to tumble down is something still....”
‘“The feat performed I—boots it well or ill,Since not to tumble down is something still....”
‘“The feat performed I—boots it well or ill,Since not to tumble down is something still....”
‘“The feat performed I—boots it well or ill,
Since not to tumble down is something still....”
‘May 10.‘I thought that my birthday would pass over very quietly and silently, as it fell on a Sunday.... But my Native friends would not let me go without my birthday tamasha, merely delaying it till the Monday. I could not regret it, for certainly it was one of the most gratifying evenings that I have ever enjoyed. We had our feast, given by the Singhas, on the top of their house, with the glorious dark-blue sky as our ceiling, and our lamp the beautiful moon.... I was presented with a Batala scarf or chaddah, for which my dear boys had subscribed. A wonderful chaddah it is, with borders of red and gold. I thought by moonlight that the colour was grey.... In the morning I saw the exceedingly gaygreen, of which I enclose a thread.... It is precious to me, as a token of affection.‘The Native Christians not unfrequently subscribe to give a parting gift to a Missionary whom they love, when starting for England; but I suppose they thought that, in my case, if they waited for that they would never give me anything, and that it was no harm to present me with something fornotgoing away! Mr. K. was rather astonished at the wild bhajans, which he declares are all on one note—but that is a mistake—but he says that they helped to cure his earache; a very curious and novel effect, which I never knew before to belong to a bhajan!...‘I think, love, that these little particulars will amuse you. I write playfully, but the real undermost feeling in my heart is that of humble gratitude to Him from Whom all blessings flow,—the love of true and God-fearing hearts being one of the most precious of those blessings.’
‘May 10.
‘I thought that my birthday would pass over very quietly and silently, as it fell on a Sunday.... But my Native friends would not let me go without my birthday tamasha, merely delaying it till the Monday. I could not regret it, for certainly it was one of the most gratifying evenings that I have ever enjoyed. We had our feast, given by the Singhas, on the top of their house, with the glorious dark-blue sky as our ceiling, and our lamp the beautiful moon.... I was presented with a Batala scarf or chaddah, for which my dear boys had subscribed. A wonderful chaddah it is, with borders of red and gold. I thought by moonlight that the colour was grey.... In the morning I saw the exceedingly gaygreen, of which I enclose a thread.... It is precious to me, as a token of affection.
‘The Native Christians not unfrequently subscribe to give a parting gift to a Missionary whom they love, when starting for England; but I suppose they thought that, in my case, if they waited for that they would never give me anything, and that it was no harm to present me with something fornotgoing away! Mr. K. was rather astonished at the wild bhajans, which he declares are all on one note—but that is a mistake—but he says that they helped to cure his earache; a very curious and novel effect, which I never knew before to belong to a bhajan!...
‘I think, love, that these little particulars will amuse you. I write playfully, but the real undermost feeling in my heart is that of humble gratitude to Him from Whom all blessings flow,—the love of true and God-fearing hearts being one of the most precious of those blessings.’
TO MRS. J. BOSWELL.‘March 17, 1881.‘The Hindus appear to be particularly silly at this time of the year. They throw about coloured water, so as to make almost all the white dresses of their companions look dirty and disreputable. My poor —— came particularly badly off, for he not only had three times his raiment dirtied, but his hand rather severely hurt. Said I to him, “Do you think such a religion is from God?” “It is devilish,” he frankly assented. “A devilish religion; a devilish deed.” “Why do you not leave it?” The poor fellow was silent. It is not faith in his nonsensical religion that holds him back, but love of social ties and surroundings.’
TO MRS. J. BOSWELL.
‘March 17, 1881.
‘The Hindus appear to be particularly silly at this time of the year. They throw about coloured water, so as to make almost all the white dresses of their companions look dirty and disreputable. My poor —— came particularly badly off, for he not only had three times his raiment dirtied, but his hand rather severely hurt. Said I to him, “Do you think such a religion is from God?” “It is devilish,” he frankly assented. “A devilish religion; a devilish deed.” “Why do you not leave it?” The poor fellow was silent. It is not faith in his nonsensical religion that holds him back, but love of social ties and surroundings.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘April 13.‘Our good pastor Sadiq and I had a long talk together to-day. We two almost, as it were, form a little party by ourselves; we are regular old-fashioned Panjabis, something like Saxons after the Norman Conquest. Sadiq highly approves of this school, because we don’t Anglicise the boys.... But the Anglicising tide runs too fast for Sadiq and me. We get spoilt by Batala, where there are no Europeans or Eurasians.... This is a grand transition time in India; and the Conservatism, which I drank in at old No. 3, remains in me like an instinct now. I would keep everything unchanged that is not wrong or foolish—and there is such a fearful amount of things thatarewrong and foolish, that one might think that to get rid of them would give all occupation sufficient. But I know that I am old-fashioned, and live too much in one groove to be able to judge correctly.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘April 13.
‘Our good pastor Sadiq and I had a long talk together to-day. We two almost, as it were, form a little party by ourselves; we are regular old-fashioned Panjabis, something like Saxons after the Norman Conquest. Sadiq highly approves of this school, because we don’t Anglicise the boys.... But the Anglicising tide runs too fast for Sadiq and me. We get spoilt by Batala, where there are no Europeans or Eurasians.... This is a grand transition time in India; and the Conservatism, which I drank in at old No. 3, remains in me like an instinct now. I would keep everything unchanged that is not wrong or foolish—and there is such a fearful amount of things thatarewrong and foolish, that one might think that to get rid of them would give all occupation sufficient. But I know that I am old-fashioned, and live too much in one groove to be able to judge correctly.’
TO MRS. E——‘July 29, 1881.‘You have perhaps heard that I am to have a charming lady to be with me; for my adopted nephew, the Rev. F. H. Baring, is bringing out a lovely bride, one whom I know well, and whom I have been accustomed to call my Queen-Lily, because she is so tall and fair. I expect her to do Mission-work much better than I can; and will not our boys love her! They seem to have made up their minds that she is to be their mother; so she will have a fine large family to look after, thirty-seven boys, or more; some of them really not boys, but men. Rowland Bateman is to perform, or rather, I believe, has performed, the marriage service for his friend. We expect to have grand rejoicings here on the arrival of the happy pair. It was a feast to see the way in which the news of their Principal’s engagement was received by his boys.... There was such clapping and delight, that you might have thought all the boys were going to be married themselves!’
TO MRS. E——
‘July 29, 1881.
‘You have perhaps heard that I am to have a charming lady to be with me; for my adopted nephew, the Rev. F. H. Baring, is bringing out a lovely bride, one whom I know well, and whom I have been accustomed to call my Queen-Lily, because she is so tall and fair. I expect her to do Mission-work much better than I can; and will not our boys love her! They seem to have made up their minds that she is to be their mother; so she will have a fine large family to look after, thirty-seven boys, or more; some of them really not boys, but men. Rowland Bateman is to perform, or rather, I believe, has performed, the marriage service for his friend. We expect to have grand rejoicings here on the arrival of the happy pair. It was a feast to see the way in which the news of their Principal’s engagement was received by his boys.... There was such clapping and delight, that you might have thought all the boys were going to be married themselves!’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘Sept. 4, 1881.‘I visited to-day a poor mother who has lost a fine little boy. I seated myself amongst the mourners, and talked with the mother. What she said gave me a gleam of hope regarding the child of ten. He had till lately attended our Mission School, so of course had received religious instruction. He had the opportunity also of learning something in the Zenana, and knew Christian Hymns. His illness wasveryshort; and what he said no one could understand; but, as his mother assured me more than once, “he smiled twice.” This seems but a sunbeam to build upon; yet as I have never known or heard of Muhammadans or Heathen smiling when about to die,—the death-smile seems exclusively Christian!—I cannot but hope that the dear little fellowhadlooked to the Saviour. I told the mother of the hope in my mind, and spoke to the weeping little brother also.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Sept. 4, 1881.
‘I visited to-day a poor mother who has lost a fine little boy. I seated myself amongst the mourners, and talked with the mother. What she said gave me a gleam of hope regarding the child of ten. He had till lately attended our Mission School, so of course had received religious instruction. He had the opportunity also of learning something in the Zenana, and knew Christian Hymns. His illness wasveryshort; and what he said no one could understand; but, as his mother assured me more than once, “he smiled twice.” This seems but a sunbeam to build upon; yet as I have never known or heard of Muhammadans or Heathen smiling when about to die,—the death-smile seems exclusively Christian!—I cannot but hope that the dear little fellowhadlooked to the Saviour. I told the mother of the hope in my mind, and spoke to the weeping little brother also.’
‘Oct. 3.—It is a real pleasure to look forward to, that of welcoming the Barings back, and placing the reins in younger and stronger hands than my own. Not a giving up of work, please God, but a lightening of responsibility. How often we say or think, “Oh, we’ll leave that till the Padri Sahib comes.” He is to do the thinking and ordering and arrangement in his little bishopric. As for sweet, lovely Margaret, I expect to see her gentle influence bearing on allsides. We are not likely to disagree, unless it be on the subject of who is to sing first, and who is to take the coveted second part.’
‘Oct. 3.—It is a real pleasure to look forward to, that of welcoming the Barings back, and placing the reins in younger and stronger hands than my own. Not a giving up of work, please God, but a lightening of responsibility. How often we say or think, “Oh, we’ll leave that till the Padri Sahib comes.” He is to do the thinking and ordering and arrangement in his little bishopric. As for sweet, lovely Margaret, I expect to see her gentle influence bearing on allsides. We are not likely to disagree, unless it be on the subject of who is to sing first, and who is to take the coveted second part.’
‘Peshawar,Oct. 18, 1881.—A large military station like Peshawar is rather a contrast to Batala. But, poor India! Where one sees less of the enemy attacking in one direction, we find him advancing in another. Over the Hindus and Muhammadans he throws the chains of Superstition, Idolatry, Self-righteousness,—he makes them choose a murderer instead of the Prince of Life. For the Europeans he has coldness, deadness, infidelity! I noticed at Church that butone manstayed to Holy Communion.’
‘Peshawar,Oct. 18, 1881.—A large military station like Peshawar is rather a contrast to Batala. But, poor India! Where one sees less of the enemy attacking in one direction, we find him advancing in another. Over the Hindus and Muhammadans he throws the chains of Superstition, Idolatry, Self-righteousness,—he makes them choose a murderer instead of the Prince of Life. For the Europeans he has coldness, deadness, infidelity! I noticed at Church that butone manstayed to Holy Communion.’
‘Nov. 7.—I am so much stronger after my visit to Peshawar,—quite a different being. It must be a comfort to Babu Singha, who thought me ageing with wonderful rapidity. But at Peshawar I took a backward spring. I was more than six hours to-day on an expedition to the village of Urduhi, going in my duli; and I was very little tired,—quite ready for HenryVIII.and his six wives in the afternoon, and for Agamemnon and Achilles in the evening. It is amusing to go back to the old stories one read in one’s childhood.’
‘Nov. 7.—I am so much stronger after my visit to Peshawar,—quite a different being. It must be a comfort to Babu Singha, who thought me ageing with wonderful rapidity. But at Peshawar I took a backward spring. I was more than six hours to-day on an expedition to the village of Urduhi, going in my duli; and I was very little tired,—quite ready for HenryVIII.and his six wives in the afternoon, and for Agamemnon and Achilles in the evening. It is amusing to go back to the old stories one read in one’s childhood.’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.‘Nov. 22, 1881.‘The visit of the two Bishops,[96]Mr. Clark, and the Chaplain, Mr. Deedes, went off beautifully. Everybody seemed pleased with Batala; and the Bishop of Calcutta wrote such handsome things in the school-book, that I am sure dear Babu Singha was gratified. The Bishop of Calcutta is a striking-looking man; tall, with a simple, unaffected dignity.... He gives one the impression of both physical and intellectual strength, combined with true piety. As the vigorous, energetic practical man, he forms an interesting contrast to the fragile-looking, saintly Bishop of Lahore. Then Mr. Clark has a calm charm of his own,—described by a lad as “looking like an angel, with his beautiful white beard.” ...‘Of course we had a feast. Then followed brief recitations from Shakespeare, and choruses. To-day the school was examined in Scripture, and pleased the Bishop. We had Divine Service, and an interesting, forcible sermon, well translated, sentence by sentence, by Mr. Clark. The Bishop of Calcutta afterwards went over the place, examining the boys’ beds, etc., struck at Native lads having such clean sheets, and at hearing that they were changed weekly. He kindly visited our poor sick M., who is much better, thank God,though still—after six weeks—confined to bed. I gave my guests plenty to eat; and my bottle of wine held out bravely, two of the gentlemen preferring tea, while the wine-drinkers were very moderate. I had to manage a little to make my furniture suffice for four guests. There was a little borrowing, but not much. I put two of your sweet mother’s lovely tidies, quite fresh, over chair and sofa, to look elegant. I wore the pretty cap, trimmed with blue, and my graceful grey dress, both gifts from No. 31.[97]‘The Bishop of Calcutta, before leaving, kindly put into my hand a note for 100 rupees. I asked him to what purpose I should apply it; he replied to whatever purpose I liked; so I at once decided on our City Mission School, our BatalaPlough, which has almost come to the end of its means, and must on no account be suffered to drop through. I was very glad of the seasonable supply.‘Now all the boys’ thoughts are turned to the reception of the dear Barings. The Natives take the whole affair into their own hands, I merely helping by paying for the refreshments. I see a wooden arch in course of erection, and hundreds—perhaps a thousand—little earthen lamps cumbering our hall. Perhaps the Bishops wondered what all those funny little concerns could be for. There are to be fireworks too; but I have nothing to do with either illumination or fireworks.’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘Nov. 22, 1881.
‘The visit of the two Bishops,[96]Mr. Clark, and the Chaplain, Mr. Deedes, went off beautifully. Everybody seemed pleased with Batala; and the Bishop of Calcutta wrote such handsome things in the school-book, that I am sure dear Babu Singha was gratified. The Bishop of Calcutta is a striking-looking man; tall, with a simple, unaffected dignity.... He gives one the impression of both physical and intellectual strength, combined with true piety. As the vigorous, energetic practical man, he forms an interesting contrast to the fragile-looking, saintly Bishop of Lahore. Then Mr. Clark has a calm charm of his own,—described by a lad as “looking like an angel, with his beautiful white beard.” ...
‘Of course we had a feast. Then followed brief recitations from Shakespeare, and choruses. To-day the school was examined in Scripture, and pleased the Bishop. We had Divine Service, and an interesting, forcible sermon, well translated, sentence by sentence, by Mr. Clark. The Bishop of Calcutta afterwards went over the place, examining the boys’ beds, etc., struck at Native lads having such clean sheets, and at hearing that they were changed weekly. He kindly visited our poor sick M., who is much better, thank God,though still—after six weeks—confined to bed. I gave my guests plenty to eat; and my bottle of wine held out bravely, two of the gentlemen preferring tea, while the wine-drinkers were very moderate. I had to manage a little to make my furniture suffice for four guests. There was a little borrowing, but not much. I put two of your sweet mother’s lovely tidies, quite fresh, over chair and sofa, to look elegant. I wore the pretty cap, trimmed with blue, and my graceful grey dress, both gifts from No. 31.[97]
‘The Bishop of Calcutta, before leaving, kindly put into my hand a note for 100 rupees. I asked him to what purpose I should apply it; he replied to whatever purpose I liked; so I at once decided on our City Mission School, our BatalaPlough, which has almost come to the end of its means, and must on no account be suffered to drop through. I was very glad of the seasonable supply.
‘Now all the boys’ thoughts are turned to the reception of the dear Barings. The Natives take the whole affair into their own hands, I merely helping by paying for the refreshments. I see a wooden arch in course of erection, and hundreds—perhaps a thousand—little earthen lamps cumbering our hall. Perhaps the Bishops wondered what all those funny little concerns could be for. There are to be fireworks too; but I have nothing to do with either illumination or fireworks.’
Before the end of November Mr. and Mrs. Baring arrived, to be received lovingly by Charlotte Tucker, and enthusiastically, not by the boys alone, or even by the Christians alone, but by many of the people of Batala. On the 9th of December a letter went from Mrs. Baring home:—
‘My dear Mrs. Hamilton,—I have but few uninterrupted minutes, but long to send you at least a few lines, to assure you that your beloved sister is well. She gave us a most delightful welcome; and a very great joy it is to be with her. I thought her looking extremely white and thin, although not lacking in her wonted energy, when we first came. Now I think she is looking a little better; and we shall tenderly watch over her, and cherish her, so far as she will allow us; but I assure you it is very hard work to persuade her to reduce her work, or to increase her nourishment. I see that my best plan is quietly to put things in her way that may be strengthening, but notto trouble her bypressing; and to ensure soups, puddings, etc., being all thoroughly nutritious, so that the amount she does take may all do her real good. And as to the work, I hope she will gradually let me have part of it, leaving herself more time for writing.‘You will be pleased to see how the people love and honour her. The tahsildar[98]came one day to see us; and reverently bowing his head before her, he asked her to lay her hand upon it, and pray for him,—which she did, most earnestly asking that Heavenly light might be poured into his soul. I think she is very wise in her dealings with the Christians, but is apt to over-estimate some of the heathen,—and to cast precious “pearls before swine,” at too great an expense of her own time and strength. However, I am perhaps mistaken about this. We must pray thatallher loving efforts may be abundantly blessed, and that she may be allowed the joy of seeing some fruit of her city labours. Among the boys she has beenmuchblessed. I hope to write often, if you will kindly excuse my notes being hurried. Much love to dear Leila. Kindest remembrances to Mr. Hamilton.— Ever yours lovingly,Margaret.’
‘My dear Mrs. Hamilton,—I have but few uninterrupted minutes, but long to send you at least a few lines, to assure you that your beloved sister is well. She gave us a most delightful welcome; and a very great joy it is to be with her. I thought her looking extremely white and thin, although not lacking in her wonted energy, when we first came. Now I think she is looking a little better; and we shall tenderly watch over her, and cherish her, so far as she will allow us; but I assure you it is very hard work to persuade her to reduce her work, or to increase her nourishment. I see that my best plan is quietly to put things in her way that may be strengthening, but notto trouble her bypressing; and to ensure soups, puddings, etc., being all thoroughly nutritious, so that the amount she does take may all do her real good. And as to the work, I hope she will gradually let me have part of it, leaving herself more time for writing.
‘You will be pleased to see how the people love and honour her. The tahsildar[98]came one day to see us; and reverently bowing his head before her, he asked her to lay her hand upon it, and pray for him,—which she did, most earnestly asking that Heavenly light might be poured into his soul. I think she is very wise in her dealings with the Christians, but is apt to over-estimate some of the heathen,—and to cast precious “pearls before swine,” at too great an expense of her own time and strength. However, I am perhaps mistaken about this. We must pray thatallher loving efforts may be abundantly blessed, and that she may be allowed the joy of seeing some fruit of her city labours. Among the boys she has beenmuchblessed. I hope to write often, if you will kindly excuse my notes being hurried. Much love to dear Leila. Kindest remembrances to Mr. Hamilton.— Ever yours lovingly,
Margaret.’
One little touch of depression had appeared a few weeks earlier, in a letter written before the visit of the Bishops, wherein Miss Tucker alluded to a slight sketch or account of herself which had been inserted in a Missionary periodical. The tone of sadness was probably due to those long city labours, spoken of by Mrs. Baring, so few results of which could then be detected.
‘Nov. 16, 1881.— ... Last Sunday was my sixthIndianbirthday; it fell on a Sunday, like my natural one. In 1880 I felt joyous on my Indian birthday. Somehow or other I had quite a different sensation this year. I felt so dissatisfied with myself,—my work seemed all sowing, and never reaping! Oh, what a false impression the —— gives of me! And Miss —— never published my refutation.... Do you remember the noble lines in “Camoens”—‘“Praise misappliedIs to the generous mind not callous grownA burning cautery.”‘I do not mean that I am burnt; but I feel like one breathing an unwholesome, sickly odour. Here is the Bishop of Calcutta wantingto see me; he has probably been reading some painted description, and imagines me a highly capable and successful Missionary. O dear! O dear! If Miss —— had only published my honest, blunt letter!’
‘Nov. 16, 1881.— ... Last Sunday was my sixthIndianbirthday; it fell on a Sunday, like my natural one. In 1880 I felt joyous on my Indian birthday. Somehow or other I had quite a different sensation this year. I felt so dissatisfied with myself,—my work seemed all sowing, and never reaping! Oh, what a false impression the —— gives of me! And Miss —— never published my refutation.... Do you remember the noble lines in “Camoens”—
‘“Praise misappliedIs to the generous mind not callous grownA burning cautery.”
‘“Praise misappliedIs to the generous mind not callous grownA burning cautery.”
‘“Praise misappliedIs to the generous mind not callous grownA burning cautery.”
‘“Praise misapplied
Is to the generous mind not callous grown
A burning cautery.”
‘I do not mean that I am burnt; but I feel like one breathing an unwholesome, sickly odour. Here is the Bishop of Calcutta wantingto see me; he has probably been reading some painted description, and imagines me a highly capable and successful Missionary. O dear! O dear! If Miss —— had only published my honest, blunt letter!’
For once in this little fit of down-heartedness, she seems to have somewhat lost her usual balanced view of the comparative unimportance of seemingly successful ‘results.’ But if in all these years of toil Charlotte Tucker had never known depression, she would have been more than human. Even her brave and dauntless spirit had occasionally to pass under a cloud; more often, as years passed on, and strength decayed. This time it had been a very slight one; and the coming of her two dear friends had brought bright sunshine into her life.
Early in the next year another letter went to Mrs. Hamilton from the bride:—
‘Jan. 21, 1882.‘Dearest Mrs. Hamilton,—I often want to have a chat with you,—sooften! But now how impossible it is to go to the bright, home-like drawing-room at Leinster Square to have it! I must therefore just be content with pen and ink.‘Your own beloved one writes so regularly that you hear all Batala news; but you do not, I fancy, hear much about her own dear self. She had certainly overdone before we came, and naturally, after six years of such continuous effort, in a climate such as this, she looks aged; but she is really just as full of brightness as ever, and her spirit is unflagging in its loving efforts for all around her. It is indeed a privilege and joy to have her here. Just at present she has a troublesome cold, caught by going out in the foggy morning of last week; but I trust it will soon yield to remedies. She is cosily resting in an arm-chair by the log-fire beside me, and has allowed me to take a little care of her to-day. The Native doctor comes every day to see the boys; so if anything is wrong with her we have him upstairs, to have a chat and prescribe. He is a very superior man, and she has great confidence in him.‘She will have told you of the possibility of a Mrs. R. coming out to join us as a Medical Bible-woman.... Not only would she be very useful in the Zenanas, and in taking care of the little boys,but also in taking a look-out for our dear one when we are absent.... My husband thinks of adding a room and dressing-room to The Aloes for Mrs. R. if she comes; so she would be quite near us.... Dinner is announced, so I must say farewell. The dear Auntie kindly consents to let a little low table be drawn close to the fire in the drawing-room for her to-day, as the dining-room is very cold in this weather....
‘Jan. 21, 1882.
‘Dearest Mrs. Hamilton,—I often want to have a chat with you,—sooften! But now how impossible it is to go to the bright, home-like drawing-room at Leinster Square to have it! I must therefore just be content with pen and ink.
‘Your own beloved one writes so regularly that you hear all Batala news; but you do not, I fancy, hear much about her own dear self. She had certainly overdone before we came, and naturally, after six years of such continuous effort, in a climate such as this, she looks aged; but she is really just as full of brightness as ever, and her spirit is unflagging in its loving efforts for all around her. It is indeed a privilege and joy to have her here. Just at present she has a troublesome cold, caught by going out in the foggy morning of last week; but I trust it will soon yield to remedies. She is cosily resting in an arm-chair by the log-fire beside me, and has allowed me to take a little care of her to-day. The Native doctor comes every day to see the boys; so if anything is wrong with her we have him upstairs, to have a chat and prescribe. He is a very superior man, and she has great confidence in him.
‘She will have told you of the possibility of a Mrs. R. coming out to join us as a Medical Bible-woman.... Not only would she be very useful in the Zenanas, and in taking care of the little boys,but also in taking a look-out for our dear one when we are absent.... My husband thinks of adding a room and dressing-room to The Aloes for Mrs. R. if she comes; so she would be quite near us.... Dinner is announced, so I must say farewell. The dear Auntie kindly consents to let a little low table be drawn close to the fire in the drawing-room for her to-day, as the dining-room is very cold in this weather....
C. M. T. TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘Jan. 23, 1882.‘It was rather naughty in Margaret to tell you that I had a cold; I did not know that she would be such a blab! However, she is not an easy person to be angry with. I think that dear kind Doctor, B. D., is quite pleased with me. He thinks that I have done more in the way of getting well in twenty-four hours than I should have done in a week had I been a Zenana lady, because I should not have obeyed him. The Natives are so very lazy about anything in illness which involves any trouble.... Dear Margaret and Francis take great care of me,—coddle me!’ (Then comes a pleased reference to the thought of the Medical Bible-woman for the next cold weather.) ‘It was such an utterly unexpected thing.... It is so nice to meet with a servant of a true Missionary spirit. Of course she will need taking care of herself. I told Francis that he should calculate on herpankahcosting £5 a year. I do not need as much fanning as some Europeans do; but I count my pankah as that expense; and it would be folly to grudge it. You see, in the Panjab, if you wish to sleep at night, you must have a pankah in the hot weather even at midnight, unless you can sleep in the open air,—which I find impracticable in a boys’ school; and I do not see how good Mrs. R. could manage it....‘Aunt L.’s book is very amusing, even to a grown-up person; there is such vigour in the attitudes, and the colouring is just suited for Orientals. I think of taking it with me when I pay my long-promised visit to Clarkabad. I hope to invade the heathen there and not confine myself—please God—to the Christian village. I feel a special interest in Clarkabad, on account of my dear Rowland. The lovely little gem of a church, partly the work of his own hands, gives a charm to the spot. Now the presence of the excellent Beutels will add to it.‘I expect to find some of the flock very troublesome folk; but that is what Missionaries must expect. These big brown families havetheir prodigals and sloths and backsliders. What is to be expected from those who have had so little light for generation after generation? We should hail every symptom of improvement. The European idea of a Missionary standing under a tree, preaching,—and numbers listening, understanding, and welcoming the Word of Life,—is often a fancy picture, or gives a most imperfect view of the truth. The seeking towinsouls is but one part of the real work.‘Only think what a regular workshop of thought has been going on in the heads of such men as —— and ——.A.is weak; how is he to be shielded from temptation?B.is a stupid, lazy fellow; how is he to be made to work? What is to be done aboutC.‘s heathen wife? Are notD.‘s children growing up like weeds? Can we manage to find employment forE.or a Christian wife forF.? It is this “care of the Churches” which was a burden to St. Paul, and I suppose has been a burden to most of his most earnest successors. It is not a thing to tell in a Report, or to draw out enthusiasm in a Missionary meeting. But we know, darling, that if a farmer went over a huge field, simply scattering grain, perhaps on ground even unploughed, and then went home, quite sure that all would go right, that he had only to go on for ever sowing and a harvest would certainly rise, he would hardly be likely to garner a crop....Onesuch matured, ripened Convert as —— is worth a hundred of those whose conduct shows that they hardly deserve the name of Christians.’
C. M. T. TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Jan. 23, 1882.
‘It was rather naughty in Margaret to tell you that I had a cold; I did not know that she would be such a blab! However, she is not an easy person to be angry with. I think that dear kind Doctor, B. D., is quite pleased with me. He thinks that I have done more in the way of getting well in twenty-four hours than I should have done in a week had I been a Zenana lady, because I should not have obeyed him. The Natives are so very lazy about anything in illness which involves any trouble.... Dear Margaret and Francis take great care of me,—coddle me!’ (Then comes a pleased reference to the thought of the Medical Bible-woman for the next cold weather.) ‘It was such an utterly unexpected thing.... It is so nice to meet with a servant of a true Missionary spirit. Of course she will need taking care of herself. I told Francis that he should calculate on herpankahcosting £5 a year. I do not need as much fanning as some Europeans do; but I count my pankah as that expense; and it would be folly to grudge it. You see, in the Panjab, if you wish to sleep at night, you must have a pankah in the hot weather even at midnight, unless you can sleep in the open air,—which I find impracticable in a boys’ school; and I do not see how good Mrs. R. could manage it....
‘Aunt L.’s book is very amusing, even to a grown-up person; there is such vigour in the attitudes, and the colouring is just suited for Orientals. I think of taking it with me when I pay my long-promised visit to Clarkabad. I hope to invade the heathen there and not confine myself—please God—to the Christian village. I feel a special interest in Clarkabad, on account of my dear Rowland. The lovely little gem of a church, partly the work of his own hands, gives a charm to the spot. Now the presence of the excellent Beutels will add to it.
‘I expect to find some of the flock very troublesome folk; but that is what Missionaries must expect. These big brown families havetheir prodigals and sloths and backsliders. What is to be expected from those who have had so little light for generation after generation? We should hail every symptom of improvement. The European idea of a Missionary standing under a tree, preaching,—and numbers listening, understanding, and welcoming the Word of Life,—is often a fancy picture, or gives a most imperfect view of the truth. The seeking towinsouls is but one part of the real work.
‘Only think what a regular workshop of thought has been going on in the heads of such men as —— and ——.A.is weak; how is he to be shielded from temptation?B.is a stupid, lazy fellow; how is he to be made to work? What is to be done aboutC.‘s heathen wife? Are notD.‘s children growing up like weeds? Can we manage to find employment forE.or a Christian wife forF.? It is this “care of the Churches” which was a burden to St. Paul, and I suppose has been a burden to most of his most earnest successors. It is not a thing to tell in a Report, or to draw out enthusiasm in a Missionary meeting. But we know, darling, that if a farmer went over a huge field, simply scattering grain, perhaps on ground even unploughed, and then went home, quite sure that all would go right, that he had only to go on for ever sowing and a harvest would certainly rise, he would hardly be likely to garner a crop....Onesuch matured, ripened Convert as —— is worth a hundred of those whose conduct shows that they hardly deserve the name of Christians.’
In the course of this January she wrote lovingly to her sister: ‘It touched my heart that you should have had “grief” in your dreams about parting again with your Char! The wrench of saying “Farewell” is what one cannot help shrinking from.’
But despite the pain of long separation from those whom she most loved, and despite many cares and anxieties this year in her work, Miss Tucker still kept her health. Mrs. Baring, writing early in February, could say: ‘I am so very glad to be able to assure you that your precious sister is much better, really looking well; though perhaps not quite so strong as in the days when she could easily outstrip me in a walk, or work from 4A.M.to 10P.M.without feeling very tired.’ Few women at their strongest could emulate such a day’s work, and notfeel ‘very tired’ at the end. It is hardly surprising that at the age of sixty she should not continue ‘quiteso strong.’
Money for the proposed Church had been flowing in; yet still it was not begun. ‘We have been, I think,’ Miss Tucker wrote, ‘for nearly two and a half years trying to buy a good site, but the Natives will not sell one to us. We cannot build on air. We have the money—and the will to buy—but we must wait God’s time.’ A little hospital also was planned, but the same difficulties presented themselves as to a suitable site, and delays were unavoidable.
Here comes a melancholy little touch of the sad side of Missionary work—that side which must inevitably exist in everything belonging to this world:—