A.D. 1884-1885
SOME OF A. L. O. E.’S POSSESSIONS
Some little time before this Mr. Baring had, for various reasons, decided to leave Batala, though not, it seems, to give up his interest in the High School. His departure was fixed for the last day of the year 1883; and Miss Tucker, after her usual cheerful fashion, congratulated herself upon the fact that, at least, the New Year would not begin with a parting.
Much uncertainty had prevailed as to who should be chosen to carry on Mr. Baring’s most important work among the boys; but before the end of December suspense was ended. Another of Miss Tucker’s dharm-nephews, the Rev. Herbert U. Weitbrecht, with his wife and children, would come to live in Anarkalli, and Mr. Weitbrecht would be the Principal. By this time a Mission Bungalow in Batala was finished, and two German ladies, Miss Hoernle and Miss Krapf, came in the course of December to reside in it. Miss Tucker, however, does not yet appear to have thought of changing her quarters. Indeed, the little bungalow was built to contain only two ladies.
On December 27th she wrote home as to arrangements:—
‘The Weitbrechts are to come here on Jan. 15 for about a fortnight. I am to keep house until they come for good about the[375] middle of March; and then my fair niece, Ellie, is to take the reins. She and her two children must go to the Hills in May. All purpose going to England in the following March. As Herbert did not wish to be buying much furniture, when so soon to be on the wing, I felt it the best plan to take some off dear Francis’ hands, and let the Weitbrechts have the use of them. Thus, I find myself the possessor of a very large bed, immensely long table, and a variety of other things too numerous to recount.
‘There is no use in my not wanting possessions,—they will come! I have even a large coffin, which is not the slightest use to me! I did not buy that from Francis!...’
The fact of Miss Tucker including a coffin amongst her possessions requires a word of explanation. About this time the Rev. Robert Clark went to pay a little visit to Batala; and on his first arrival he was shown straight to the room which he would occupy while there. Miss Tucker came running in, and exclaimed—
‘I hope you have not seen it,—have you?’
Mr. Clark naturally inquired what was the thing in question which she wished him not to have seen.
‘I had better tell you all about it,’ she said. ‘A poor woman was dying, and we thought they would take her away and burn her; and we wished to give her Christian burial. So I ordered a coffin to be made. But they were late in making it, and she died before it was ready; and they took her away and burnt her. And then they brought the coffin. It was a very good coffin, and I thought it would be useful; so I told them to put it under the bed in the guest-room! You did not see it, did you?’ Mr. Clark no doubt assured her that he had not yet made the discovery; and she went on eagerly: ‘You must not think I kept it for myself; for I have directed in my will that I should be buried without a coffin, and that my funeral expenses must not exceed five rupees.’
The latter injunction was with a view to lessening funeral expenses among Indian Christians generally,[376] many of them being apt to spend heavily at such times. But the whole story is eminently characteristic. Many people shrink from the very mention of a coffin, because of its associations. Not so Charlotte Tucker! There was to her absolutely no sadness whatever in the thought of death. She looked forward to the day of her departure from earth as to a day of release from bondage, of an upward spring into a new and radiant life. It was a subject to be spoken of cheerily, and with a smile.
What became of the coffin in the end Mr. Clark does not say; but he too speaks, as do others, of her entire fearlessness with regard to death. Once, when talking of it to him, she quoted impressively the words, used long before by her gentle sister, Fanny: ‘Whenever, wherever, however, He will!’
One time, when Mr. Clark was spending a Sunday at Batala with Miss Tucker, she read aloud to him the 31st verse of the 40th chapter of Isaiah, and drew attention to the fact that the verse had in it instruction and comfort for persons of all ages.
‘“They shall mount up with wings as eagles,”—that is something for our young people; they are always soaring and flying. “They shall run, and not be weary,”—that is for our middle-aged people; they run and work on, and never seem to tire. And there is something for us old people too,—“They shall walk and not faint.” We old people cannot fly; we cannot run; but we can walk, and do not faint. And so we all of us renew our strength by waiting on the Lord.’
Mr. Clark, from whom these details have come direct, writes also:—
‘On another occasion, she came walking up to me in her genial, brisk manner, with a book in her hands, as I entered the room, and said, “You will be surprised when I tell you what book I am reading! You know I am a good Churchwoman; and yet I often like to read[377] Spurgeon’s sermons. They are full of apt illustrations, and he never repeats himself. I find them so useful in my writings; and I know hardly any other work which so much helps me.” In her latter years she often read Shakespeare, and recommended it to educated Natives, who were averse to the study of the Bible. The recitations from Shakespeare, at the Prize-giving in the Baring High School in Batala, originated with her; and she thought them very valuable in the formation of character. The Prologues in these Prize-givings were, I think, till last year all written by her.’
Not only in later days, but all through her life from very childhood, she had delighted in Shakespeare, as we have already seen; and she had a very high opinion of the value of Shakespeare in the general education of the Indian mind.
In confirmation of certain words above, spoken by herself, Mr. Clark observes: ‘As regards her religious views, she was sincerely attached to the Church of England, firmly believing that the teaching of the Church of England, as set forth in the Book of Common Prayer and in the Thirty-nine Articles, is in accordance with the Word of God.’ Another also, who knew her well, has said: ‘A warm Churchwoman, she would always be ready to see the best of those with whom she could not agree on many points.’ This undoubtedly was the case,—in practice, if not always in theory. She was, however, greatly opposed to Ritualism, and would be much distressed when she came across aught of the kind in her various visits to different places.
The subject recalls involuntarily certain words uttered by Bishop French of Lahore,—‘our saintly Bishop,’ as Miss Tucker called him. When he was at home some years ago, and staying at Eastbourne, I happened to put to him a question bearing on this matter; and his reply was one not soon to be forgotten. He said: ‘It is no question out there of High Church and Low Church! It is a question simply of[378] Christianity and Heathenism!’ To this wide and comprehensive view Charlotte Tucker could not have fully subscribed. In her letters, from time to time, though not often, the subject crops up, and she expresses her fears strongly as to one individual or another. But it is noteworthy that when, soon after, she meets with the individual himself, her fears are usually quieted; and while conscious of differences on certain points, she is yet able fully to recognise—and to recognise with delight—real devotion of heart and life to the Service of the Master Whom she loved. No more unmistakable token can well exist of true large-heartedness. There was in her no innate love of controversy for its own sake; and though, as might be expected with one of her impulsive temperament, she sometimes expressed her views with energy, she did not love fighting, nor was she a violent partisan. As a general rule, her aim was rather to build up than to pull down.
The years 1884 and 1885 passed in the main quietly, marked by no especial events. Work went steadily on as usual; holidays were short as usual; failure and success fluctuated as usual. Miss Tucker’s loneliest time in Batala was over. Now she not only lived with the family of Mr. and Mrs. Weitbrecht, but two other lady Missionaries were settled in Batala, helping to carry on the work. Not that Charlotte Tucker’s toil was lessened thereby. She had a less heavy weight of responsibility; but so far as actual work was concerned it could never be overtaken,—and it could not have been overtaken by twice or thrice the number of workers. Fresh openings were continually appearing, continually calling for attention.
In the hot weather, indeed, she had a taste of her old manner of life. Then, when other Europeans were compelled one after another to flee to the Hills, Miss Tucker could safely remain on many weeks longer; up to a certain[379] point even enjoying the heat. On the whole, however, things were altered. Not only were other Europeans in Batala most of the year, but a railway had now been completed between Amritsar and Batala, bringing all the Amritsar friends within a very easy distance. It became possible to run over to Batala for a day’s visit; and Miss Tucker grew jealously anxious, lest such visitors should in any wise hinder her work. ‘I have let it be known,’ she wrote, ‘that I do not consider myself off duty till 2 P.M., so that if friends come in the morning they visit the house and not me. I must try to be firm in this, and make no exceptions.’
A certain little incident of this period may be mentioned. With a new Principal, naturally new plans were adopted in the training of the boys; and Miss Tucker did not always at first take kindly to fresh ideas. She was now of an age to prefer the old to the new, simply because it was the old. Dr. Weitbrecht writes:—
‘In 1885, by way of encouraging muscular exercise in the hot weather, I tried the experiment of having the boys taught wrestling by a Native athlete. The Auntie was at first inclined to be a little shocked at the new development, and would not grace the wrestling practice with her presence. One day, as it was going on, Mrs. Weitbrecht went to a window overlooking the arena, and there found Miss Tucker, stretched on the floor, her head out of the low window. In some alarm lest the old lady should have fainted, she offered to raise her, but was only met with the reply, “Hush! I’m looking at the boys.” The ladies soon saw they were discovered, as a handsome young Pathan looked up with a smiling “Salaam.”’
Extracts from the letters of these two years, 1884 and 1885, must unfortunately, for lack of space, be very limited in number.
‘New Year’s Day, 1884.—I had a very sore parting with Mera Bhatija; but on that I will not dwell....
‘The last day of 1883 was a very sad one to me; but I had some[380] of the little boys in the evening, and amusing them shook me out of my melancholy. I awoke early—as usual—on the New Year’s Day, and sang New Year’s hymns. After that I heard unwonted music below my window. Good Miss Krapf and three of the Singha girls had come to salute the New Year with a holy song. Of course, I went to the city after breakfast.’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘Jan. 21.
‘I am quite glad that my furniture is so simple. Had I had plenty of gimcracks, I might have been a fidgety old maid. As it is, there is no harm in having a nursery instead of a drawing-room. But I have a nice little drawing-room of my own; a screened-off bit of my fine large sleeping-room. I used it for my classes when sweet Margaret was here; for I think that a married couple should not be always having interruptions. This arrangement does nicely in the cool weather; and in the hot weather dear Nellie and her babes will be in the Hills. It will be the old arrangement of Auntie and one choice nephew,—for Herbert is choice, and kind to my Leila’s attached godmother.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Jan. 28, 1884.
‘I feel as if I must have a talk with my Laura to-night; for my spirit feels pensive and my heart tender. The ladies came and took tea with us; and Miss Krapf brought her music. As Herbert wanted to see a photo of St. George and Francie, I took my dear old album into the drawing-room, which it very seldom enters. While the sweet, rich music was going on, I was—yes, sighing over my Album. More than twenty of the faces in it no longer of earth! Sweet Mother, Fanny, Henry, Letitia, Aunt E——,—oh, so many gone before! Then my Laura looked so like what she did in old days. I must not look often over that Album; it is like my youth between two boards. What a changing world!’
‘March 26.—I met with a perfectly mad woman in a Hindu Zenana. She came and sat down beside me. V. and others made me change my seat to another bedstead—the usual seat. I did not at first know why, but was soon aware of the cause. The poor, afflicted woman put her head right down on my lap. She did not seem to be mischievous. It was insanity, not idiotcy.’
[381]
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘April 22, 1884.
‘Among the little matters which vary our regular life at Batala, I may mention almost nightly alarms about robbers. The servants have got into a nervous state.... It is not a comfortable state of affairs.... The Weitbrechts and I have been putting our heads together. I forget which of us suggested the plan which we hope may succeed. I sleep in the front room, opposite to the servants’ house; so a great tumult naturally awakens me, especially as my windows are open for air. The Weitbrechts are more out of the way.
‘Herbert is to lend me his revolver, loaded, and we are to take care that every one knows that I have the formidable weapon; but no one but ourselves is to know that I would on no account hurt any one with it. On the next alarm of robbers, I am to jump up, and—fire—at the trees or the stars. The report will probably awake Herbert, who has a rifle. Now you see the double use of this arrangement. My Ayah may possibly even sleep out-of-doors, if she knows that a yell from her may bring a pistol-shot from her vigilant Miss Sahiba; and robbers, if such there be, will doubtless dread my prowess, not knowing how peculiarly peaceable I am, and that I would prefer being shot myself to shooting another! I am to have a very determined look; and we have all tutored each other not to laugh! Both Herbert and Nellie have some fun in them, but they are to look as grave as judges, as if Miss Sahiba were a dead shot; especially on a very dark night, when there is no moon! Have I not spectacles?’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘April 23.
‘Well, my loved sister, if you read my little note to Leila first, you will be pleased to hear that the night went over serenely. Even my frightened Ayah seems to have slept peacefully under the wing of the Buzurg Miss Sahiba, armed with a revolver! Would not dear Rowland have laughed to see old Auntie learning from Herbert how to cock and fire a pistol! I wonder how Nellie kept her countenance, when one of the servants expressed a hope that Miss Sahiba would give some notice before firing, for fear of a casualty to one of the household; and then wanted to know what would happen if Miss Sahiba killed a thief! Nellie told the inquirer that we English—she was too truthful to say the Miss Sahiba in particular—only[382] aimed at limbs to disable, not at bodies to kill. Nellie knows pretty well that, if I aimed at anything, it would be at the stars.
‘I took care to lock up my dangerous weapon before sunrise, treating my revolver with great respect. Do you remember that, when I was known to be coming out to India as a Missionary, dear, kind H. Boswell wanted to make me a present of his pistol? I declined it, as a very unnecessary part of a Missionary’s outfit; but I could not help remembering H.’s kindness yesterday. Though I never fired Herbert’s revolver, yet the report of it—to speak in Irish style—had a great effect.’
‘May 3.—O yes, my Laura, love your K.[115] The Native is affectionate. Indians are not usually considered grateful; perhaps they are not grateful for benefits bestowed through general benevolence or a sense of duty; but my impression is that they readily respond to affection. This is one of the great secrets of ——‘s power.... I was rather amused yesterday, when I was describing Philemon’s funeral to the dear Pandit of O—— (K. S.), and had said that we went singing towards the grave. “I will not sing at your funeral,” said he. And then he told me how he had tried to sing at dear Margaret’s—but it was quite a failure; he could not sing, his heart was much troubled. The Pandit is a lovable man; and he loves.’
‘May 8, 1884. (Her Birthday.)
‘When I came down in the morning before 6 A.M. I found in letters of gold on a purple ground over the large front door, “God save our beloved Miss Sahiba.” I told dear Babu Singha when we met, as I walked on towards the city, that I liked the “our.” He observed that “buzurg” seemed to put me farther away from them. I quite agreed. I like “our,” which makes me seem like the boys’ property....
‘I was surprised in a Zenana to-day by a request for some old article of my clothes for a baby. “I will give you some new cloth,” said I; for I make exceptions to my rule of not giving presents to Natives in Zenanas, in favour of new babies and brides. But the grandfather did not want new cloth at all. He insisted on something old. So I humoured him, and looked out on my return home for something that I had worn....
‘How much I have to be thankful for, my Laura! I begin my Tenth September with a quiet, peaceful feeling. “Oh, how kindly hast Thou led me, Heavenly Father, day by day.” But the best is[383] to come. “Light after darkness—” Not that my present position is darkness; but there is often weariness, of course.’
‘May 15.—I can so well enter into the “thought and anxiety” caused by ——. His mind is probably in an effervescing state; but we must trust and pray that, after the froth works down, something precious may remain. Young India is at present in a peculiar state; and —— does not stand alone in his dangerous love for oratory. You must expect, love, to see some of the weaknesses of the Native character even in those on whom our Blessed Religion has made an impression. With the English—Truth, Honour, and a sense of Duty are often found even in those not very religious, and it shocks and disappoints one to find the want of this kind of moral foundation in some Natives, whose piety one cannot doubt!! “I must do my duty,”—“Honour bright!”—are expressions that in this land need to be taught.
‘The Native character is a study. We can hardly disconnect pious feeling from purity and conscientiousness. One must make great allowance for those brought up in a tainted atmosphere. Do not be easily discouraged, love. India does turn out some really fine fellows; but a school like this is greatly needed, to begin moral tuition early. We want our flowers to have stalks and leaves, and not to spread out their petals so close to the earth as to be defiled by its dust. Let —— expand his eloquence in trying to draw ryots[116] to Christ. Close contact with really hard evangelistic work, if persevered in, would probably do much to sober his mind. Let him be persuaded that the Baptism of one true Convert, however ignorant and poor, is a far higher honour than the plaudits of an English audience.’
‘July 3, 1884.—I have had two comical though not very pleasant incidents.
‘I sent dear Mrs. Singha as a present what I believed to be a bottle of lemon syrup, delicious in hot weather.... When next I went to the Banyans, Mrs. Singha told me that I had sent her a bottle of brandy! I was astonished,—I, who am virtually a teetotaller! I could hardly believe it. She produced the bottle; and, sure enough, it was full of brandy. What a villain of a grocer must have sold it, thought I, smuggling brandy in this way.... “This is sure to be trashy brandy,” thought I, “which I should not dare to give in a case of illness.” So, in my indignation, I poured it all[384] out on the grass. I also thought that I would write to good Babu —— at Lahore, who had bought the bottle for me, to tell him of the wicked cheat played on him. Most fortunately, I first mentioned the matter to Herbert. “Do you not remember,” said he, “that when we wanted a large bottle, you emptied your brandy into a small one?” I had perfectly forgotten the fact. O stupid, most stupid, old Auntie! And I had emptied my bottle on the grass!
‘The next incident was also a provoking one. You know that I have had boils. Well, Herbert said ... that the best way to stop a boil was, at the very first threatening, to put caustic to the place. So I bought a bit of caustic, knowing as much about it as I do of Hebrew.... Just before starting for afternoon Wednesday Service in the city, I thought that I had the slightest possible sensation of a boil on my nose. “Not a pretty place to have a boil on,” thought I; so I took out my wee grey stone, dipped it in water, and applied it. It did not burn at all, so I applied it again. Then, seeing a black spot, hardly visible except through spectacles, off I went to Service.
‘On returning home, to prepare to go out to Miss Hoernle’s, how surprised—I may say almost shocked—was I, on looking in my glass! A big black smutch on my nose; another on my chin; and another on my thumb. Washing was of no avail; salts of lemon none; chloride of lime none; soap useless! I could not help laughing, I was such a figure; and my Ayah laughed too. I determined to give it to Herbert roundly for putting me up to make such a fright of myself.... As soon as I could get hold of my naughty nephew, who was playing at lawn tennis as happily as if nothing had happened, I scolded him in Miss Hoernle’s presence as hard as I could,—considering that both of us were laughing. At last my wrath blazed into verse:—
‘“You told me it would make me smart,—
The fear of pain was slight;
You have not made me smart at all,—
You’ve made me just a fright!”’
‘July 10.—You will like to know that I have managed almost entirely to get rid of those spots, which made me think of Lady Macbeth, and gave me rather a dislike to the use of caustic; for one does not like to appear as if one never washed either face or hands.’
In November another sorrow came; the death of Miss[385] Tucker’s nephew in Canada, Charles Tucker, whom she had visited before starting for India. He was one of her ‘Robins’ of earlier days; and she felt the loss much.
It was in the course of 1884 that Miss Tucker related to her sister a certain Christian Pandit’s dream. His wife had long been dangerously ill, and the husband had tenderly nursed her. No other Christians lived in the village except these two; and no one but the husband had been near the dying woman for many days.
‘I think it was the day before the sufferer’s departure,’ wrote Miss Tucker, ‘that the Pandit fell asleep; but as he said, “In sleep I was praying.” He dreamt that he heard a voice say, “I will take her; she suffers so much!” Another Voice, which he thinks was a Divine one, said, “Wait!” On waking, the Pandit went to his wife. She told him that Jesus Christ had stood by her, and laid His Hand on her head. “How did you know Him?” asked the husband. “His Side was red!” Whether the appearance was a dream or not, it gave comfort. The sufferer departed at last in peace.’
There is no necessity for any one to believe this, on the part of either husband or wife, to have been more than a natural dream—a reflex of the state of mind and thought previously. At the same time, it is undoubtedly possible that help or comfort, whichever was required, might be sent through the medium of a dream. Several remarkable instances of dreams are mentioned from time to time by Miss Tucker in her letters,—occasionally vivid enough to decide a Muhammadan on the great step of becoming a Christian. There is many a simple and natural means by and through which God speaks to the heart; and dreams may sometimes be one of those means,—especially in ‘Early Church days.’
One other instance of the kind can be mentioned here, while the subject is to the fore. In Charlotte Tucker’s Journal, some few years later, occurs the following[386] singular little entry, when she is describing a visit to a certain village:—
‘Aug. 16.—J. R. told me dream of Christ, which he had had three or four years ago. Indignantly repudiated idea that my pictures were like Him Who was so much more beautiful. I read part of description of Christ in Rev. i.; but the old man, with simple truthfulness, said that that was for the superior person who had written. He was a poor man; he had only seen the white dress and beautiful shining Face. I asked if he had seen it distinctly. “Do I see you who are before me?” he replied. “So I saw Him.” His nephew certified to J. R. having told him of this dream soon after having it.’
It is very probable that the old man might have been dwelling on the thought of Christ, consciously or unconsciously endeavouring to picture the Divine Form to himself; and the dream may have been a perfectly natural consequence of his own cogitations. But to say that a thing is or may be natural is not to say that it can have been in no sense Divinely sent, or that it might not bring quickened realisation with it.
The New Year’s Day of 1885 was not altogether cheerful, despite courageous efforts made, and parties of Indians: children in the afternoon, seniors in the evening. Two unfortunate Hindus were accidentally drowned in one of the large Batala tanks; happily not that tank which lay close to the palace, wherein the schoolboys were wont to disport themselves. This naturally threw a shadow over the proceedings of the day.
Early in the year came a letter from the Bishop of Lahore to Miss Tucker:—
‘Jan. 10.
‘Dear Friend and Sister in Christ,—May I venture to ask if in the little room you may assign me kindly, during my short visit to Batala, a little cot may be placed for a brother of mine from New Zealand (a brother in Christ also), who is always pleased to chum with me, as he does at Bishopstow also, our house being full?
[387]
‘I am sorry to say my visit must be limited to a sojourn with you from Friday, 30th January, to Tuesday, February 3, as the Ajnala work hedges me in behind, and Lahore and Amritsar Confirmations before. May I ask your special prayers, lest this rather overpowering crush of work may not impair strength of mind or tone of spirit, both of which I have a little reason to dread at this season? It is a comfort to know and to be assured that our Faithful Lord will “stablish and keep us from evil.” May His peace, and love with faith, be our portion; and then in the storm we may sing our watchword, “All well.”—I am, yours, with ever affectionate and grateful regards,
‘Thomas V. Lahore.
‘Affectionate good wishes to your whole party.
‘This will, alas! break up my itinerating plan; not for ever, I trust.’
A fortnight later Miss Tucker wrote to her sister, on January 24:—
‘You will have seen in the paper that our good Bishop has lost his daughter. I wrote to him a little note of sympathy which he was not to answer; but he did reply in his own gracious, characteristic style. We expect the Bishop here next week for a Confirmation; and he has asked leave to bring a Christian brother from New Zealand. Whether the brother be an emigrant or one of the aborigines, we know not. We are prepared for either.’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘Feb. 4, 1885.
‘The interesting Confirmation took place on Saturday, ... after which we partook of the Holy Communion. I think Herbert said that there were 41 Communicants. We never had so many before in our chapel. The dear, saintly Bishop left on Tuesday morning.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘March 28, 1885.
‘You should have seen Ellie and me down on the floor to-day, pinning down the dusters for the chess-board. It so happens that there is an unusual influx of Native Christian visitors at present—R. R., his winsome lady and two daughters, J.’s mother, and S., a fledged bird, and these with the numerous Singhas and the Native Pastor will make quite a gathering. I rather expect to play badly;[388] but the great thing is to be quick and dashing, and to move as many pieces as possible; and not to be disturbed by the bursts of laughter likely to follow any check given or piece taken. Would you not like to be present,—near me?
‘Well, as I rather expected, I was beaten, though I had the best of the game at first. I never heard such noisy pieces of chess as the dear brown boys were, when they were first marshalled on the board, and had to don their crowns, regal or mural, their mitres and their horses’ heads. Our Afghan hero, C. C., was a knight, and enjoyed himself very much. I think that there was only one piece, or at most two, that was not moved.’
‘April 23, 1885.—My nephew Herbert ... is absent again on Mission work. He has heard that there is a spirit of earnest inquiry amongst a number of poor low-caste village folk, I think about ten or eleven miles from Batala. He has gone to look personally into the matter; and if he finds that these lowly peasants are really seeking after God, we will try to make some arrangement for their instruction. Herbert will see if it be advisable for an English lady and Native Bible-woman to go for a short time, and to fix some suitable agent (Native) to reside amongst the poor people, and start a school. Of course, this involves expense; but if corn at last be springing up, it must not be neglected. It is such a comfort to have one, wise, good, and active, like dear Herbert, to look after such matters....
‘If you happen to meet with dear Mrs. W——, please tell her that her Cross gleams in my room every night. Her pretty straw basket is so much admired in the zenanas....
‘Our Church-building is growing rapidly under Herbert’s auspices. The “Mission Plough” too surprises me by its growth. I hear that there are 105 boys there now. But we have not a sufficiently strong staff of teachers. The Inspector (Government) was pleased with the school, but said that we should have a stronger staff. We know that too.’
‘May 8.—I saw Miss B. a few days ago. She saw you in London, and thought that we resembled each other. “But I hope that my sister looks much younger than I do,” said I. “Does she look twenty years younger?” To my satisfaction, Miss B. agreed that you did. So my Laura keeps her looks, though not feeling so strong as I should wish her to do.’
‘June 22, 1885. ... I must amuse —— with the following perfectly authentic anecdote. There was a nice young couple, as nice[389] as Fred and Maud perhaps, and they had a nice little baby. One day the inexperienced Mamma banged the baby’s head. Accidents will happen, you know, in the best-regulated families. The young mother was conscientious; she felt that she ought to confess the banging to the father of the child. With tearful eyes she went to her husband, and owned that she had banged her baby’s head. Then the husband, gaining courage from the brave woman’s truthfulness, confessed that he had done the very same! he had banged the baby’s head, but had not liked to own it. The baby does not appear to have been the worse for the two bangs; perhaps they were on opposite sides of the little head, and counteracted each other. Still—fathers and mothers had better not try the experiment of how much banging a baby will bear. Don’t you think so, darling?’
‘July 13.—I was interested in hearing what was said to E. by the lad last baptized.... “I have nearly got through my temptations,” said he. Of course, I cannot give his exact words, which were in Urdu; but their drift. The lad thought that forty days of temptation succeed a convert’s Baptism, and said, “I have only eleven left.” ... “But do you think that you will never be tempted afterwards?” asked E. Poor B. did not think that, but he thought that the first forty days were the worst; and perhaps he is right.’
‘Nov. 13, 1885.—I think that it will amuse you and my dear god-daughter, if I tell you of my first attempt regularly to make a marriage, and what were the consequences thereof.
‘I had been told by the experienced Native Christian, whom I will call M., the proper way to carry on a negotiation. He told me long ago that a “Buzurg” (elder) should ask the parents for the maid. There being a union which we Missionaries thought suitable and desirable, ... I, the most buzurg of all our circle, at the desire of the fine young suitor,—whom I will call B.,—went in my duli to M.’s house, to ask his lovely daughter in marriage for my client. I managed to have both parents present, and sent the maiden away. It would have been a great breach of etiquette for her to have heard me.
‘I felt that I was doing all in proper Oriental style. The parents listened; we talked over the advantages of the union; and M. and his wife were to give me their reply on the following day.
‘But Orientals take their time. I heard nothing on the following day; so on the third I sent my salaam to M. and desired to see him. He came, smiled, was highly agreeable, said that he was willing, but must consult his brother, etc.
[390]
‘I thought that some one else should be consulted; namely, the young lady. I was going to Amritsar ... so I resolved to have a private interview with the maiden, whose future was to be decided upon. The lovely—let’s call her X.—had returned to ——; so there I sought her, and had a tête-à-tête. I wanted to know whether she cared for B., whom she had had many opportunities of seeing from her childhood.... We had almost taken it for granted that X. must care for him.
‘Hitherto all had gone pretty smoothly. I had even thought what presents I should give, and the Weitbrechts and I had talked over the day for the wedding. But an unexpected obstacle arose. X. could make no objection to B.; I do not think that she has a thought for any other suitor; but she does not want to marry at all! “I want to read,” she said. “I wish to remain like you!”
‘This opened our eyes to a peril in the infant Church, of which you probably never would dream. Ellie and I set to counting up young maidens who are of a suitable age to become brides,—well-educated, nice girls,—and came to the conclusion that a kind of fashion is setting in not to marry. The Native delights in imitating the European. The girls see that most female Missionaries, whom they love and honour, are unmarried. They enjoy freedom.... Christian women are at a premium. Widows are eagerly sought as Bible-women....
‘Of course, I would never wish X. to marry one she does not care for. I have told her father that the matter is at an end. But he looks grave enough, and sees the peril to our Infant Church as clearly as we do. If our nice maidens scorn to marry, where are our fine, well-educated men to find Christian wives? How are girls—except in very rare cases—to work in zenanas without the care of a husband? It would be thought improper, hardly safe.
‘“The consequences are” that I have written a little book in honour of the holy estate of Matrimony; which—the new book—has had Ellie’s approval, and I am sending it to Herbert for his. What we want in India are good wives and mothers. No science or literature can make up for the lack of such.’
It was in the summer of this year that Miss Tucker mentioned in one letter a curious little scene at the railway station. She had gone there to meet a friend, who failed to arrive. Two young Native Christians happening to be present, and also a young English officer of her acquaintance,[391] she brought them together with a kind of half introduction. When she had left the station, the officer began talking to the two, asking lightly why they had left their own religion for another. ‘It’s all the same,’ he said. ‘Muhammadans, Hindus, Christians, all know that there is One God.’ This far from brilliant remark received an answer which it well deserved. ‘If so,’ one of the Indians replied, ‘what difference is there between you, us, and the Devil?’ The train moved on, carrying the speaker away; and no more could be said. But more might have weakened the force of the retort.
A few slight memoranda, contributed by two Native Christians, come next. The first are sent by Dr. I. U. Nasir, formerly one of the boys in the Baring High School, already quoted in an earlier chapter. He speaks of himself as an adopted ‘son’ of Miss Tucker’s, not, like others a ‘nephew.’ The second set of extracts, which I give last, not because they are of inferior interest, but because I wish to accentuate one suggestion, by letting it end the chapter, are from the Rev. Mian Sadiq, at one time Indian clergyman in Amritsar, and later the same in Batala.
I.
‘Of all the India’s sons, especially those with whom she had to deal at Batala, it was my privilege to be called her “son.” She was an “Aunt” to a good many Missionaries, but only did she allow me to call her “Mother”; and she did love me as a true mother....
‘The one thing most noticeable about her was that she was so self-denying and humble, considerate for others’ feelings, and tender-hearted. She would tend the sick with such motherly care; and if the disease was a dangerous one, or infectious, she would insist on sitting by the bedside, and not allow others to run the risk of contracting the disease. On one occasion a poor, dirty convert was suffering from fever, and had no clothes. Miss Tucker gave him her bedding for the night, and spent the winter night herself sitting before a fire. Above all she hated “I’s.” I remember only one occasion when she desired us to do something for her. She had regular morning[392] and evening walks in the fields; but getting a little tired sometimes of waiting till the Church bell sounded, she wished a small terrace to be raised, just sufficient to seat her. A small rude platform was raised for her by the side of a babūl tree. She may have selected that particular spot, because it gave a very picturesque view of the “stately palace,” with the “tank with lilies blowing” in the foreground,—now turned into an artificial canal.
‘Her reticence regarding her own life and work was extreme. This much I remember from her occasional talks, incidentally dropped from her: that she was eight years old when she read Shakespeare; she was eleven when she began to compose; and at twenty-one she sent her first book to press.[117] She wrote to me once how much she exulted over her first printed composition....
‘At that advanced age how much she could accomplish in a single day was a wonder to everybody. Her vast correspondence, reading of books and papers, her literary compositions, her school classes, Bible-meetings, various interviews, were so gracefully and naturally managed. Still, all these were held in the background, and jealously guarded against encroaching upon her Missionary work....
‘She was reading the sermon (Spurgeon’s) on Christ’s first miracle at Cana. She read there that our duty was to fill the jars to the brim; and it was Christ’s work to turn them into wine. This led to the self-examining question, “Am I filling the jars to the brim? Can I not work a little more for Christ than I have hitherto done?” This gave her strength in her feebleness; and from that day she spent an hour more in the zenanas than she used to do. Considering the various discouragements she met in her Missionary work, it was no small matter to take this step,—and this too at a time when it was an effort to walk, not to speak of ascending perpendicular flights of stairs in the zenanas....
‘The one thing which was not liked by some people about her was that she had an extreme disgust of Natives taking to English dress, which she invariably designated “ugly.” She regretted on several occasions that her age and habits did not allow of her adopting the “graceful dopatta” (head cover) in preference to her hat....
‘Her ideas about the burial system were very definite. She would take up the thread of St. Paul’s argument, and compare the human body to a seed of grain, which should be simply buried under the earth, and not shut up in a box and placed in the ground. She several times expressed her desire to be simply wrapped up in a clean[393] sheet and carried by her boys to the cemetery when her turn came, and then laid in the grave as one naturally sleeping.’
II.
‘During Mr. Baring’s absence in England in 1881, one cold night Miss Tucker noticed in the Chapel a man shivering with cold. He was one of the non-Christian servants of the school. After Service she called him, and asked him if he had more clothes. The man said “No.” He was shivering, as he had fever. She told him to wait, and ran upstairs. She came back in a minute with a beautiful rug. She told the man she could not give it to him, as it was a present from her sister, but she would lend it to him for the night, and would buy a country blanket for him the next day. I asked her what she was going to do herself. She said she would keep a fire in her bedroom, and that would keep her warm.
‘I saw her many times picking up pieces of broken glass or bottles. She said poor people who walk barefoot get hurt by these. She has known cases in which men suffered for weeks from wounds received from these.
‘She was not kind to men only, but to animals. One summer morning, as she was coming from the city, after doing her work in the Zenanas, she saw a poor donkey with a sore back, troubled by a crow. She came home, took a piece of cloth, went to the place where she saw the donkey, tied the cloth, and came back and took her breakfast....
‘Her example has done a great deal in removing caste feelings among Christians. Batala was a place for feasts. In these feasts all Christians were invited. She generally sat with low-caste Converts, and ate with them....
‘Once for sending a girl to an orphanage she sent for a prospectus of the school. In it two warm dresses were put down in the list of clothes. ‘It is very unreasonable,’ she said, ‘to require two warm dresses.’ She had herself only one, and that she had been using for the last nine years. Her poem, “What a Missionary Miss Sahiba should be,” is an embodiment of what she was.’
One more short sentence from the same source is worthy of particular attention: ‘When ill, Miss Tucker did not like to inform her friends of it, lest her friends should leave their work and come to nurse her. She often expressed a wish that there were Mission Nurses, who could attend[394] to the sick Missionaries. Without these, when one got ill, others were taken from their work to nurse her.’
In an earlier chapter it was suggested that some ladies, wishing to find a vocation, might offer themselves as Honorary helpers to the more regular Missionaries in certain lines, among which Nursing was included. Here it seems that the same thought had distinctly occurred to the mind of Charlotte Tucker. Why should not a little Band of Honorary Nurses for India be organised,—Nurses, trained and capable, holding themselves ready to go wherever their services may be required by any sick Missionary, so that the steady work of other Missionaries should not be unnecessarily interrupted by the illness of one of their number? The idea is at least worth consideration, since apparently it would have met with the approval of A. L. O. E.