A Lady of England 47
‘Our fear is that the heathen are starving B--n and his three
children to death! One poor lamb is but a few months old.
If I were a man, I would be off to Batala. My friend Mr. H.
has written a strong note to an English official at no great
distance from Batala,--there _not one_ Englishman resides,--and
I feel little doubt that he will bring the strong arm of the
law to protect B--n. But the note will not reach till this
evening. For eight days B--n will have been in the fiery
furnace. How long can he hold out?’
Reports, happily false, of the retractation of the convert came to
distress them at Amritsar; and Mr. Beutel, leaving his wife and mother
dangerously ill, went over to Batala to inquire how matters stood. He
found B--n, though much tried and sorely pressed, still standing firm.
It is melancholy to read of Charlotte Tucker’s eager delight in carrying
the good news to her favourite Maulvi Z.,--of whom at that time she
thought so well and hopefully as an established Christian, and who in
later years was to grieve her most bitterly by himself becoming an
apostate.
Letters at this time show her steadily growing interest in Batala, her
ever-increasing desire for systematic work there.
‘_Sept. 14, 1876._--I have been delaying writing till I could
give you news from Batala,--that place towards which Missionary
eyes longingly turn, as those of the Germans did towards
Strasburg. May Batala be given to us, as Strasburg was to them.’
* * * * *
‘_Sept. 20._--As regards my little Indian tales, I have sent a
good many to Nelson, who has accepted them; and consequently I
suppose intends to publish them. It is very likely that they
have been appearing in the _Family Treasury_.... Sadiq had
just come from Batala, where he had seen B--n. Dear Sadiq! I
think that he must have gone altogether seven or eight times
to Batala. He is a friend worth having. B--n expressed his
willingness to bring his little girls to Amritsar; but his baby
was so very, very ill, that he feared she could not be moved....
The little lamb appeared to be sinking fast. My surprise is
how she has been kept alive so long. The last account was that
the baby was “not fit to be picked off the charpai”;[47] she
seemed dying. Dear little martyred innocent,--dying because her
father gave himself to Christ! B--n intends to bring his two
elder children; but of course nothing can be done while baby is
dying....
‘O Laura, I feel as if these two deaths in Batala marked the
place as _our own_. So much cannot have been suffered in vain.’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
_‘Sept. 26, 1876._
‘Those rogues of sparrows have fairly driven me out of my room
this morning. They make such a chatter. I intend to request
Mr. H. benevolently to shoot a few; just to show the rest that
really they must not expect to be allowed to build, and gossip,
and make themselves disagreeable in every possible way in the
room of a Buzurg Miss Sahiba....
‘It is much cooler. These two last nights I have needed
no pankah, and was able to bear a blanket. I have resumed
wearing a merino vest by day, and it is very comfortable. The
darzi,[48] who squats in the verandah, is busy on a magnificent
dressing-gown, which I have ordered. I brought out flannel from
England, but not a flannel dressing-gown, so I have bought a
rich shawl-pattern, and the flannel will line it, and I shall
look like a Maliká[49] and feel--almost as comfortable as a
sparrow.... It seemed to be a question with the darzi whether the
white flannel was to be inside or outside! The matter appeared
to interest some of the servants. One lives in such a public
way in India. Whatever one gives to be made or mended is made
or mended in the verandah; and the darzi, as he cuts out,
clips, and sews, talks--perhaps with the pankah-wala, perhaps a
stranger, perhaps the munshi (tutor) whose pupil is not quite
ready to take her lesson.... There is no shutting the world out;
and the Indian world is such a curious world.
‘Then people’s characters are so public; no one seems to think
it worth while to wear thick cloaks over them. Everybody seems
to know about everybody else. The very public papers seem
personal. ... O yes, India is a very curious place,--people
curious,--ways curious,--insects curious,--dress curious, etc.
The very Anglo-Saxon character appears in a new and curious
aspect. India is a place to develop an instinct to command,
and to carry things with a high hand. Weakness does almost as
much harm as wickedness. But I feel myself too old to learn the
zabardast[50] way of going on. I am not fitted to grasp reins
of government, and drive a team of twenty-two Indian servants,
syces, pankah-walas, bearer, khitmatgar, ayah, etc., see that
the horses are not cheated of grain, that pankah-walas pull,
that kahars don’t take French leave, etc. etc. I hope that
Florrie[51] will hold the reins, if she and I go off together.’
* * * * *
‘_Oct. 5._--We had a visit from our good Pastor Sadiq
yesterday. I was the one to receive him. You know that I am
not strong in the language yet. I knew that Sadiq was speaking
about sickness, castor-oil, and quinine, and people going
about to look after the sufferers; but I could not get at his
full meaning; and as he was clearly on business, I thought
it better to call in C. to my aid. It was well that I did!
Sadiq’s heart was full of Batala--our Strasburg--where people
are dying of fever, faster than even in Amritsar. Sadiq wanted
a subscription to be made instanter to send off quinine and
castor-oil. The Christian lawyer, R., would go on to-day or
to-morrow, and Sadiq himself would follow on Monday. Talk of
languid, apathetic Hindus! Sadiq, when he takes a thing into
his head, goes at it like a battering-ram....
‘To-day I had what seemed to poor me a long _tête-à-tête_ with
the Pandit from O----, that village which you will remember I
visited with Margaret. O dear! it was a bit of a mental effort.
He is a learned man! I longed for C. to come to my rescue, but
battled with verbs and genders as well as I could.
‘I was determined to do the polite, so I boldly asked the
Pandit to stay to dinner. I could do so, as, oddly enough, I
am now the senior Missionary at Amritsar,[52] though I feel
such a child in the language. Rather to my surprise, the Pandit
accepted my invitation at once. He would not eat with us when
he was here before, nor when at O----, for he is a curious
half-and-half sort of Christian,[53] leading such a lonely life
amongst heathen. The Pandit shared our meal, but only took
vegetables and bread-and-butter.
‘Do you not laugh at the notion of poor Char, sitting at the
head of a table, and entertaining a Pandit, and feeling her
ignorance, and plunging about in a bog of Urdu? I did not,
however, attempt to talk much after C. came in, as she has been
nearly four years in India, and speaks the language well.’
When the next letter was written, on October 14, the Batala plan was
under discussion. Padri Sadiq seems to have first suggested the idea that
Miss Tucker should proceed thither with Miss Swainson, and open a Mission
in the place. Miss Tucker does not appear to have at first viewed the
scheme with any great enthusiasm.
‘Such a merry breakfast we had this morning! Our three dear
ladies, Margaret, Emily, and Florrie, arrived at about 9 A.M.
after nine hours of raft,--very tiring, for it involved much
walking, and it was raining away,--and twelve of dâk-gari.
Margaret looked young and lovely; Florrie much improved.... She
is delighted with the Batala scheme; but Margaret tells me
that it cannot be carried out till December at earliest, and
I have my doubts about its being carried out at all. At any
rate, the difficulties will not have come from _me_. I am quite
willing to go; but of course a new station would involve the
Committee in expenses, and it is not easy to procure a suitable
house, etc., so it is likely enough that Sadiq’s plan will be
disapproved of in high quarters. I quietly wait to see what
direction is taken by “the fiery, cloudy pillar.” ...
‘Last night I had to chaperon to our noisy, bustling station
after dark a young Missionary, who looks to me quite unfledged.
There I met the school-teacher, Miss ----, with her young
sister, yet more unfledged, bound on the same errand.... I
think that the stations at Indian cities are more noisy and
bustling than the worst London ones. It almost shocks my sense
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