A Lady of England 84
Dec. 15, 1880._--Dear Mr. Clark’s return has caused so much
joy. The Native Christians have had a loving address to him
printed in letters 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
brings _brains_, 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 would
_rather_ be 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.’
* * * * *
‘KANGRA, _Aug. 21_.--I paid a visit to Kangra fort yesterday;
a grand picturesque place, holding a commanding position. The
officer in 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 collected _ten rupees_ to 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
kicking _me_, 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 have
never 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 singing _The 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 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!’
CHAPTER XI
A.D. 1881-1882
CLOUDS AFTER SUNSHINE
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. 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’s Son.” “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,--is _dissolved_ by 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....”
* * * * *
‘_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 gay _green_, of which I enclose a thread.... It is
precious to me, as a token of affection.
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