A Lady of England 86
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 sixth _Indian_
birthday; 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 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
wanting to 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,--_so_ often! 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 her
_pankah_ costing £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
have their 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 to _win_ souls 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 about
_C._‘s heathen wife? Are not _D._‘s children growing up like
weeds? Can we manage to find employment for _E._ or a Christian
wife for _F._? 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.... _One_ such
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 4
A.M. to 10 P.M. without feeling very tired.’ Few women at their strongest
could emulate such a day’s work, and not feel ‘very tired’ at the end.
It is hardly surprising that at the age of sixty she should not continue
‘_quite_ so 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:--
‘Perhaps you sometimes wonder at my so often making the special
request for prayer for _wisdom_. But oh, love, if you knew the
puzzling cases which meet us! I observe that experienced and
sensible Natives are taken in; so can we wonder at being so?
I will just give you a specimen case where we have _not_ been
taken in, because warned in time. I have not even seen the
woman in question; I suppose that the parties found out that we
have had notice.... A woman professes, I hear, to be an inquirer.
She wishes baptism. Why? A Muhammadan man is at the bottom
of her inclination towards Christianity. The woman is of low
caste, so that the man would be degraded by marrying her, as he
desires to do. Let her become a Christian,--that will be a kind
of white-washing for her,--she will be received amongst us, be
able to eat with us, etc. _Then_ the Muhammadan is to pervert
her to the faith of Islam, and gain credit for converting a
Christian, instead of disgrace for marrying a Mitrani.[99] ...
We hope for more than twenty baptisms in C----, but Francis
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