A Lady of England 57

A Lady of England 57

 ‘_March 15._--Now, darling, to answer your objections to my

spending the hot season at Batala.... I doubt that the risk to

health from climate will be at all greater at Batala than

at damp Amritsar. Always remember, love, that at the former

place I am high above the ground, while at the latter I am on

it. This makes an immense difference. The large inner room at

Batala would be cooler than any room here....

 

‘I intend to take my large harmonium to Batala. It may be of

immense use there. I suppose that I shall have charge of all

the music; for I do not believe that either my Bhatija (nephew)

or the Singhas know anything about it. It is of _immense_

importance. Mr. R. told me yesterday that the Rev. C., perhaps

the most valuable convert in all the Panjab (he is a Bengali),

was first brought to Christ by listening to Church music. It

carried his soul away! I wish that I were more competent for

the charge; but I must hope and pray that God may bless my

little attempts to serve Him by music. I am so thankful that

age has not affected my voice; at least, it does not seem to me

to have done so.’

 

The latter fact would tell little. People in advancing years are seldom

able to judge of their own voices. Others, however, speak of the unusual

manner in which Miss Tucker’s voice lasted. It had never been one of much

power or sweetness; but she had always had a sensitive ear, and had sung

well; and to the end she still sang in tune, even when the voice itself

became cracked with age.

 

One other point in the above may be noted. Miss Tucker was throughout

anxious to make the best of her beloved Batala; and undoubtedly this was

a case of ‘making the best.’ If Amritsar was damp, so also must Batala

have been,--at all events, in the seasons of heavy floods, when it was

often impossible to get about, from the state of the roads. There were

times when Anarkalli was all but a veritable island, in the midst of a

kind of lake. This could hardly be regarded as healthy, while it lasted.

 

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

 

_March 28, 1878._

 

‘I am to have my “pen,” about which my dharm-nieces joke a

great deal. Mera Bhatija[78] is going to cut a slice off his

magnificent dining-room, to make a cool retreat for the Auntie.

As a bamboo-screen right across would be very unsightly, if

seen in its bareness, I am going to have mine covered on both

sides. Fancy a screen, twenty feet long and six feet high! I

have been very fortunate in securing a most suitable cloth for

the cover. A bedroom chintz would have looked quite out of

character, but I have bought a native cloth, with an Oriental

pattern, very tapestry-like, old-fashioned conventional flowers

and birds on a blue ground. It is such a pattern as one might

see in a picture, and will not destroy the effect of the

Oriental hall. Every one who saw it at once fixed upon it as

_the_ thing....

 

‘Emily has ordered eight chairs for my rooms,--I had two of

my own,--and your beloved Mother knows that I am splendidly

supplied with cushions; such dainty cushions! I like my rooms

to look rather nice, as young Panjab may get an extra polish,

if admitted to an English lady’s drawing-room.’

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VII

 

A.D. 1878

 

PERSECUTIONS

 

 

Once more Miss Tucker settled down in Batala--for life! She would only

leave the place again for her short and well-earned holidays; and at the

last for her passing away.

 

During many years her home was still to be in the quaint old palace,

described by others as draughty, weird, forlorn, desolate; though she

herself so resolutely looked upon the discomforts of the old building

through rose-tinted glasses. But its dreary aspect was soon to be

changed. The bright faces of Panjabi lads, the merry voices of Panjabi

scholars, were to fill with fresh life those big and empty rooms. ‘The

Baring High School,’ as it was called, had its first existence in the

shape of a small boarding-school at Amritsar, which Mr. Baring decided

to remove to the palace at Batala. About fifteen boys were, in the

beginning, at Anarkalli,--described by A. L. O. E. as ‘our choicest young

Natives, converts or descendants of converts; one is the grandson of a

martyr!’ These boys or their friends paid fees, when they could, which

was not always; and the fees, though perhaps sufficient to cover their

food, were by no means sufficient to cover the cost of a good education.

 

From the spring of 1878 Mr. Baring resided there, as C.M.S. Honorary

Missionary, with control of the Boys’ School, which indeed had been

started mainly at his own expense; while Babu Singha worked under him as

the Master of the School. Miss Tucker, as she stated in her letters, held

no such post as that of Matron. Her position was entirely independent,

being that of Honorary Zenana Missionary. She paid for her own rooms

and her own board in the Palace, and regarded Zenana visiting, and the

writing of small books for Indian readers, as her prime occupations. But

for Charlotte Tucker to live under the same roof with all those boys, and

not to give them loving interest, not to attempt to teach or influence

them, would have been a sheer impossibility.

 

Another Boys’ School had been started in Batala, which must not be

confounded with the above. The Baring High School was--and is--distinctly

for the education of Indian Christian boys. The Mission School, known

later as ‘The Plough,’--Miss Tucker recognising strongly that this early

stage of work in Batala could only be compared to a farmer’s ploughing

of his fields,--was for Indian boys, not yet Christian. They received

Christian teaching; and when a boy in the Plough School became a convert,

he was passed on usually to the High School. The very starting of this

‘Plough School’ was due to Miss Tucker’s liberality. Out of her own purse

she generously paid the main part of its expenses.

 

We must turn again to her letters, with all their curiously fresh,

_young_ eagerness and enjoyment, to realise what her life was at this

time. Charlotte Tucker might call herself ‘old,’--she was very fond of

doing so on every possible occasion; but certainly none of the weight of

age had as yet descended upon her spirits.

 

TO SIR W. HILL.[79]

 

‘BATALA, _April 13, 1878_.

 

‘We hope next Sunday to have a Baptism in our lovely little

lake; and we have been practising baptismal hymns to sing on

the joyful occasion. We had some anxiety about our young

convert.... He went to Amritsar on business; and at the time when

we expected his return he did not come back.

 

‘What could have happened? Had the dear youth been seized by

his Muhammadan relations? Such things do happen; the danger is

a very real one. It is often no easy matter to confess Christ

in India. Mr. B., who was here, wrote off a note to a Christian

Maulvi in Amritsar to search for the lad. He did so, and found

him, and brought him here in safety last night; but not before

---- had had a painful time of it in Amritsar.

 

‘I looked with interest on that Christian Maulvi, as he sat in

our drawing-room, conversing with the English Missionaries....

_He_ has known well enough to what dangers a convert may be

exposed; for he has experienced them.... He was the first of

his family to take up the Cross. His Muhammadan neighbours

formed the fiendish design of _burning him alive in his house_.

They piled up his clothes, etc., in an under room. He was

sleeping above. The Muhammadans set fire to the pile; and the

clothes, etc., were quickly consumed; but the fire did not,

as was intended, set the whole house in a blaze. The ceiling

was charred; that was all; and the Christian slept unharmed,

watched over by the Eye that never slumbers nor sleeps.’

 

About this time A. L. O. E. wrote home to another quarter:--

 

‘Yesterday a letter arrived from the schoolmaster of O---- with

tidings that a lad of fifteen has had the courage to declare

to his friends his desire to become a Christian. The natural

result of such a declaration has followed,--the young confessor

has been beaten. It is no small matter to stand up thus openly

for Christ in a heathen village. The lad may have to endure

much. I have seen one who was made to stand in boiling oil by

his own father, to hinder him from going to the Christians.

Whether the O---- boy’s conversion has been the result of the

Good Friday expedition we know not; but whether it be so or

not, the lad claims our sympathy and interest. We shall try

to bring him here, to the Batala Boarding-School, where he

may at least receive food and protection. “It is a refuge,”

said our Christian Maulvi to me yesterday, glancing up at the

goodly building raised by the Maharajah Shere Singh, who little

dreamed that he was preparing in it a home for a Christian

Natives’ Boarding-School, and also for the ladies of a Zenana

Mission. I am at present the sole English Agent of the latter

Society here.’

 

TO MRS. E----.

 

‘_May 10, 1878._

 

‘You may like to hear a little more about our School of young

Panjabis, as it is rather a curiosity.

 

‘My nephew, Mr. Baring, has succeeded in making these young

Natives like not only cricket, but gardening. We are to have

a Horticultural Exhibition in August, when prizes are to be

given for the best flowers and fruit. Considering that the

gardens are all on ground _redeemed from the lake this year_,

it will hardly be expected that the show will equal one in the

Botanical Gardens. But oh, you should see our glorious pink

water-lilies! They grow wild in the water, and would be a sight

anywhere.

 

‘I want the boys also to take to intellectual games. I am much

pleased at having succeeded in making one nice lad compose two

Sunday enigmas. I by no means despise this small beginning

of authorship. Sunday enigmas greatly increase knowledge of

scripture, and also help to make the holy day pass pleasantly.

There is a great deal of singing here also; and such a lovely

text for our Chapel wall is now almost ready.... Our dear lads

cannot, as ---- did, give a beautiful pulpit, but I think that

they take a pride and pleasure in their Chapel.

 

‘It will look rather pretty, I hope, with its white walls,

and striped pardahs of red and white, and the pretty blue

ecclesiastical-looking carpet which is promised for it. A

_Baptismal Register Book_ is ordered. I want a large one! God

grant that it may fill up rapidly. We shall require a cemetery

too, and have rather set our hearts on a pretty mango tope[80]

at a suitable distance from, but not quite in sight of, the

house.’