Chapter I: A.d. 1875

FIRST ARRIVAL IN INDIA

In the second week of October 1875, Miss Tucker left English shores, never to return. The voyage was uneventful, differing therein from her trip to Canada. On its very next voyage the good ship _Strathclyde_, which carried her to the East, went down within sight of Dover. But no threatenings of such a catastrophe disturbed A. L. O. E. on her way out.

A fellow-passenger on board the _Strathclyde_ wrote long afterwards:--

‘My first introduction to A. L. O. E. was when I was lying in
all the helplessness of the first days of my first voyage,
quite unable to stir from the deck. I became conscious of
a grey-haired lady stooping over me, offering some _eau de
cologne_, and with a winning smile asking if she could do
anything for me. She was a good sailor, and in those miserable
days moved about amongst the sea-sick passengers like an
angel of mercy. Even then dear Miss Tucker looked very frail
and delicate; and one could scarcely have expected that she
would be spared for eighteen years to work in all the heat and
discomfort of India. One thing remarkable about her on that
voyage was the influence she had over the men on board,--some
of them quite indifferent, if not hostile, to religion. No one
could withstand her genial, loving ways; and it was a sight to
be remembered, to see her gathering the young fellows round the
piano, while she led off in some old English ditty.’

Her own letters to Mrs. Hamilton, while on board, are cheery as usual, and speak no word of pain or longing for all that she had left behind; indeed the very first ends merrily: ‘Please give my kindest love to your dearest girl, and tell her that I have already hung up her famous bag. I hope that no ayah will _bag_ it! I could not resist the pun, bad as it is.’

There were five ayahs on board, and she soon struck up an acquaintance with one of them,--a Christian ayah,--reading aloud her Hindustani Bible, and delighted to find that the ayah could understand what was read. ‘I am bribing one to teach me,’ she wrote. ‘The ayahs ought to be glad to help; for they, at least two or three of them, seem to regard me as a kind of supplementary nurse, and if they want to go to work make over the baby to me.’ In the same letter she states: ‘We have a strong Missionary force on board; two Scotchmen, the wife of one of them, and six Missionary ladies. We have not quarrelled at all; but then, most of us have been sea-sick!’--again a little glimmer of fun. ‘We lady Missionaries get on very well together,’ she says in another letter. ‘Very gentle and modest are the Misses A., “your pretty girls,” as Lady I. called them to-day.’

As to amusements on board, she wrote:--

‘Lady I. has started a game which dear Leila and Fred may add
to their store at Christmas. She wrote something, missing out
all adjectives. A gentleman went round and collected adjectives
haphazard from the passengers, inserting them in the places
left blank. The piece was then read out. It was a description
of the voyage and many of the passengers. Of course nobody
could be offended, because the adjectives came haphazard. But
how your young folk would have laughed when, amongst other
personages described, came--“Miss Tucker, of a _grandiloquent_
disposition, with other _bouncing_ Missionary ladies.”’

About a fortnight later she wrote:--

‘A contrast to ---- is Mr. S., the competition-wallah,
probably the most highly educated man in the ship. I look
upon him as the Squire of the Mission ladies. In his most
quiet, proper fashion, he is ever ready to do our behests;
and he never seems to tire of hymn-singing.... He has evidently
plenty of moral courage. The very funniest thing was that Mr.
S. was actually present at the solemn conclave held by us six
M. L.[24] to decide whether we could conscientiously attend
a second theatrical amateur performance, _Mr. S. having been
the principal actor_ in the first one, which we did attend. It
was as if Garrick had been present at a Clapham conference on
the subject of whether it were right to go to see him act!!!
Mr. S. was very amiable and good: he had taken a great deal of
trouble to amuse the passengers, and _his_ part was perfectly
unexceptionable; but if we all absent ourselves next time I do
not think that he will take any offence. I proposed that we
should all sleep over the matter, one of my reasons being that
I could not but feel Mr. S.’s presence a _little_ embarrassing.
On the following day we met without him, and decided that the
question is to be an open one; each M. L. is to judge according
to her own conscience. I believe that we shall divide; but this
is not, we have agreed, to disturb the harmony between the M.
L.’

After a few days spent in ‘bright, beautiful Bombay’--these are her own words--she proceeded by rail with one companion to Allahabad. A pause at Jabalpur had been planned, but this fell through; and they accomplished the whole long journey of 845 miles without a break. Wisely, her friends had insisted on first-class, and she was none the worse for the fatigue. On the very morning of her arrival at Allahabad she could say: ‘I had a nice warm bath, and then a good breakfast, and I feel almost as fresh as if I had not travelled 845 miles at a stretch, but merely taken a little drive. Think how strong I must be!’

Later in the same letter, a long and cheery one, bearing no signs of fatigue, she speaks of Mr. George Bowen, an American Missionary, who had ‘laboured without intermission for twenty-eight years’ in the East, and who was known among Natives as ‘the English Faqir,’ on account of his wandering and self-denying life.

‘He will take no salary,’ she wrote, ‘but has earned his own
living, I hear, by teaching, supporting himself on the merest
trifle. I esteem it a great honour that I sat beside him at
breakfast at the Zenana Mission House last Thursday. Mr. Bowen
looks quite skin and bone, wondrously thin, but not in the
least unhealthy, but as if there were plenty of work in him
still. He told me that he does not “believe in age.” He seems
to feel as fresh as he did twenty-eight years ago; and yet at
the beginning of his career he was so fearfully ill that his
life was given up, and he wrote his farewell to his mother.
As India has agreed so splendidly with Mr. Bowen, I asked
him--as I generally do those who thrive in the climate--whether
he drank only water. “Tea,” he replied, smiling. He gave his
opinion that to take stimulant here is “the way to have to
leave the country.” Almost all the Missionaries whom I have
met appear to be water-drinkers. I am particularly delighted
with the American Missionaries whom I have seen.... I am ashamed
of ever having had a prejudice against Yankees. I am attracted
also by Native Christian ladies.’

On her way up-country she came in for the wedding of a Missionary lady, and after her usual fashion she was most active in helping; working hard at the making of wreaths and at the decoration of the Ludhiana Church porch. As the married pair were about to drive off, rice was brought to be thrown; but somebody present objected to the custom for India, as originally heathen, and liable to be misunderstood.’ Then the horses shall have it!’ declared Miss Tucker; and with two hands well filled she went to the horse’s heads, and fed them, amid much laughter, in which she heartily joined. Her own description of the event is overflowing with spirit and enjoyment. It is dated November 30.

‘I have just come in to rest a bit, and wash my soiled
hands,--for what do you think that I have been about?--at
the express request of the bride, helping to decorate the
church for her wedding, which is to come off to-day. This
house is jammed full--that is to say, a good deal more full
than is comfortable; but the kind folk would not hear of my
leaving till after the wedding, so I do not go to my home till
to-morrow morning. Indian railways are regardless of convenient
hours. I, who was up this morning soon after five, must be up
to-morrow morning soon after three. Of course I had to arrive
here by starlight; and on the same night there had been another
arrival at one A.M. ... There is a grand tamasha[25] about the
wedding. Every one seems pleased. It is Missionary wedding
Missionary, and--perhaps I had better go and make myself
useful....

‘_Later._ Oh, such a pretty wedding! The little church fresh
white-washed within, clean as a wedding-cake. The porch almost
like a bower. A border of flowers on either side up the centre
made a kind of path. Then the presence of the school-girls
in their white chaddahs; the number of Natives in their
picturesque costumes,--both Christians and heathen, inside the
church and looking in from the outside,--all made a charming
scene.

‘But before we went to church, a Begum, a royal lady,
granddaughter of Shah-Soojah, came to see the fun. And only
fancy, Laura, I was left for perhaps a quarter of an hour to
entertain the fine old lady. Would not your Fred and Leila have
laughed to have seen me, making gallant efforts to keep up
conversation with my dreadfully bad Hindustani. I dashed at it,
tried to explain why I wore a black dress when I had lilac and
blue ones at Amritsar, told her that I had never been married,
answered questions regarding my family, etc. The Begum laughed,
and I laughed, for I knew that my Hindustani was very bad; but
I did remember always to use the respectful “Ap”[26] to the
princess.

‘Presently the dear old Missionary, Mr. Rudolph, appeared. The
“pardah”[27] lady, on seeing a man, hid behind an arm-chair.
But when I told her that it was “Rudolph Sahib,” the old lady
said that he was her father, and that she would make her salaam
to him. I hear that the Begum is almost a Christian, and she
can read. Wrapped in her chaddah, she walked with me to church,
and stayed through the service. I was close behind her. When it
was over, I managed to say a little sentence to her in rather
better Hindustani, “The Lord Jesus Christ is here; He gives
blessing.” The Begum gave a sound of assent.’

Next day, the first of December, Charlotte Tucker reached Amritsar,--the spot which she fully expected to be her home for many a year to come. But Amritsar was only a stage on the road to Batala, where her Indian work really lay.

All who know aught of India know the name of ‘The Panjab’;[28] that province to the far north, a land of five great rivers, where in Mutiny days so much was done for the preservation of our Indian Empire. Amritsar[29] is one of the larger cities of the Panjab, containing a population of about 135,000 inhabitants,--Hindus, Muhammadans, and Sikhs. It is the Holy City of the Sikhs, and has their ‘golden temple,’ wherein they worship, and wherein also is kept their sacred book, the ‘Granth.’

Missionary work has been mainly carried on in the Panjab by the Church Missionary Society; just as, in many parts of Bengal, Missionary work has been mainly carried on by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. Where the one great Church Society has obtained a footing, the other great Church Society does not interfere in either case, but goes elsewhere in the Mission field. It is greatly to be wished that this spirit of courtesy were more widely seen in the working of Missions generally among the heathen. During late years the ladies of the Church Zenana Society have come in as an additional help to the Societies above-named,--as true ‘handmaids,’ alike in the Panjab and in other parts of India.

The Mission premises are about half-a-mile distant from the City of Amritsar. A. L. O. E.’s first Indian home was here; in a bungalow, surrounded by a large compound or garden which was part of the Mission premises. When she arrived, in the beginning of December, roses were in full bloom, as well as abundantly-flowering shrubs and creepers. The great banyan-tree, which grew and still grows in front of the bungalow, was soon named by Miss Tucker ‘The Mission Tree.’

A warm welcome was given to her by the Missionary ladies living there:--Miss Emily Wauton, who still labours on in the same spot, though nearly twenty years have passed since that day; Mrs. Elmslie, widow of Dr. Elmslie, the Pioneer of Missionary work in Cashmere; Miss Florence Swainson; and Miss Ada Smith;--not to speak of the C.M.S. Missionary gentleman living close by.

After her wont, Miss Tucker was very eager, very bright, very anxious to become immediately one of the little circle. That first evening, as they sat round the table, she said: ‘I don’t want to be “Miss Tucker” here. Can’t you all call me “Charlotte Maria”?’ The ladies naturally demurred. ‘We could not possibly,’ they said. Miss Tucker’s face fell a little; then came a happy thought, and she brightened up. ‘Call me “Auntie,”’ she said. ‘So many call me “Auntie.” All of you must do so.’

‘But we cannot directly. We don’t know you yet,’ objected the others again.

She was very much delighted when Mr. Rowland Bateman, one of the Missionaries, began the same evening, without hesitation, to speak to her as ‘Auntie.’

Soon after, news came of the death of her brother, Mr. Henry Carre Tucker. It was needful to arrange for her mourning; and pending the arrival of other things, one of the younger ladies offered to alter for her an old black silk dress which she had. Going to her room, the young lady knocked and said, ‘Miss Tucker, may I have the dress now?’ No answer. Another attempt;--and ‘No Miss Tucker here!’ was the result. ‘Unless you call me “Auntie,” you will not have it.’ ‘But how can I so soon? I don’t know you yet,’ was once more the unavailing plea. Miss Tucker had her way, however; and thenceforward she became ‘Auntie’ to an ever-increasing circle of nephews and nieces in India.

Some extracts from her own letters, written to Mrs. Hamilton in the December of 1875, will give, far better than words of mine can do, the impressions received in her new position.

‘_December 2, 1875._

‘It is early morning, before 6 A.M., my first morning in my
new home. A cock has been crowing, otherwise everything is
profoundly still. I hear a cart in the distance. You will like
to hear something of my surroundings.

‘Mrs. Elmslie came to meet me at the station; also Mr. Clark
and Mr. Baring. It was slightly bewildering, for, says Mr.
Clark, “the Bishop wants to see you; he and Miss Milman are to
go off by this train.” Now the thought most in my mind was, “I
won’t let poor dear Miss F.[30] think that I desert her for
new acquaintances.” She also was going on by the train; but
there was a pause at Amritsar station for perhaps a quarter of
an hour. So I had to be agreeable to the Bishop, Miss F., and
all,--and keep Mrs. Elmslie waiting besides.

‘This is a splendid room of mine ... about twenty-four feet
each way, and so lofty. I am surprised at the elegance of
these Indian bungalows. Please put from your mind all idea of
_hardship_.[31] I have now lived in four bungalows, and all
have elegant rooms, and there is such an air of refinement that
I have great doubts whether it would be the correct thing to
put out my hand and take a slice of bread off a plate. Mrs.
Elmslie is a lovely lady, tall, slight, fair; but however tall,
a lady every inch of her; she might be a Countess with her meek
dignity....’

‘_December 9._

‘I directed _via Brindisi_ my sad letters to the almost
broken-hearted mourners, and I thought, “I will write no more
by this mail. I should only write on one theme, my precious,
noble Henry.” But I have since thought that I was wrong in
this determination. My own sweet Laura will be closing a heavy
year.... If I can turn the channel of sad thoughts, it is better
that I should write, and not only on one theme. She will like
to hear of my home and my work, and I ought to write to the
darling!...

‘What shall I say of Mrs. Elmslie? She is one of a million. I
never met with any woman in my life so like an angel without
wings. Tall, fair, elegant, graceful, with a face that Ary
Scheffer might have chosen to paint for a seraph,--her soul
seems to correspond to her external appearance. Saintly as she
is, she is not in the _least_ gloomy; she tries to make all
happy, and is business-like and practical. Fitted to grace a
drawing-room, she throws her heart into school-work, and seems
to manage the house beautifully. It will give you an idea how
winning she is, when I tell you that Miss Wauton and Miss
Hasell call Mrs. Elmslie “Mother,” “Mother dear,” though the
name seems strange from one who looks quite as old as herself.
You should see Mrs. Elmslie with a black baby in her arms,
looking at it with such loving tenderness and pleasure too,
just as its guardian angel might....

‘I must not fill up all my letter with my sweet friend, and it
is nearly time that I should take my morning walk. I always
take a rapid one in the compound, which is large, with a good
many trees and nice flowering shrubs in it. I hope always to
keep up the habit, which is so very conducive to health; but of
course I shall not walk so _fast_ when the hot weather comes.

‘It may give you a little idea of life here, if I describe
yesterday’s occupations.

‘I rose about six, dressed, and wrote a little. My Ayah brought
me early breakfast. I went out and took my walk, then returned
and prepared for my Munshi.[32] He is a convert, and was
baptized last month, with his two little children. The Maulvi,
as we call him, is a dear good man, but too indulgent for a
teacher. He is not particular enough in correcting my faults.
I have an hour with him before breakfast; and after the meal
comes family worship--the morning hymn, prayer, and chapter,
always in Urdu.

‘After prayers yesterday I returned for a short time to my room
and occupations. I was engaged to go to “the city”--within the
walls of Amritsar--with Mrs. Elmslie; for it is desirable that
I should see work going on. The conveyance is a kind of large
box of a carriage, contrived to let in air and keep out sun.
Yesterday we went to four native houses; Mrs. Elmslie went to
a fifth, but went alone. Such strange narrow lanes one has to
go through; sometimes on foot where the gari could not go,
mounting up to the first floor of the houses by very steep
steps....

‘We returned home after our city visits, and had dinner.
Yesterday being Wednesday, after dinner we went to church;
we always attend the _Native_ church. As the prayers are a
translation of our own Liturgy, I can join in them well enough,
but I can yet make very little of the sermon....

‘I find it a good plan to go to Mrs. Elmslie’s Orphanage, and
sit and listen to the lessons, and thus learn myself. The girls
in their white chaddars[33] look, generally speaking, well
and happy. I was to have amused some of the younger ones last
Sunday with Bible pictures; but when I had had the sad letters
I gave up my intention of helping sweet Mrs. Elmslie in this
way. I hope to do so another time.’

‘_December 13._

‘I have so much to interest me here, and every one is so
kind.... I call this bungalow “House Beautiful,” on account of
the dwellers within it. It is also a nice refined place, with
an extensive compound, and plenty of trees and flowers. If I
were not so busy I should like to send you a sketch of it; but
daylight seems too short for what I want to do; and when once
my mouth is really opened, I shall feel as if I never could get
through all the interesting work that is to be done. The ladies
here have a kind of general superintendence of twenty-two
schools--_not_ Christian--but where they are allowed to teach
the Bible. Fancy what an opening!’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

‘_Dec. 13._

‘There are some things in Indian life which would strike you as
curious. For instance, I have _five_ glass doors to my bedroom.
One alone is never opened ... but through all the others people,
especially my Ayah, come in; and she never knocks.... Folk can
walk in from the outside of the house through two of my glass
doors. It is a very public sort of living, but it is Indian
fashion. The great thing is to let in abundance of air; and
where air comes in other things come in too. I have, however,
“chick” blinds to my outer doors; these are made of thin split
bamboos; and if I let them down, no one can see in. Of course
they would not keep out my dear little Ayah; she can always pop
in by lifting the chicks. She is the only one who really laughs
at my bad Urdu.... My Munshi laughs a little, but not in the same
way. He is gentle and pleasing.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

‘_Dec. 21._

‘I have been waiting to write to you till the tardy mail
should come in. But why wait any longer, when I have always so
much to say to my Laura now?--only I lack time--and light--for
this is the shortest day, and the houses are built to keep out
light, which comes in underneath a heavy verandah, so that I am
sometimes obliged to feel rather than to see....

‘I did not open my picture-box for some time after my arrival,
but when it was opened it would have pleased you to have seen
the pleasure given by its contents, including your lovely
tidies. Mrs. Elmslie was eager as a girl, settling where the
different pictures were to be hung, jumping up on chairs, and
keeping us up beyond our usual hour for retiring, for she
could not bear to leave the picture-question unsettled. We had
consultation, trying this place and that place on the walls,
trying to balance sides and keep all things straight. For the
angel-lady likes to have everything pretty.... It seems to me as
if both England and America had sent their cream to India. But
then Amritsar is a specially favoured place.... As is natural
where the Missionaries are first-rate, there is a great deal of
leaven working amongst the heathen.’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

‘_Dec. 23._

‘Though I posted a letter to your sweet Mother only yesterday,
perhaps I had better tell you of my visit to the Zenana of ----
whilst it is fresh in my mind. Dear C., Miss H., and myself
went to-day to visit this Muhammadan house. It is a handsome
one, in the midst of fine park-like grounds; and from the lofty
verandah we had a better view of part of our city than I have
seen before.

‘The Muhammadan Sahib has three wives. I suppose that they were
the three middle-aged or elderly native women who sat on a
bed; the other five women present, old or young, may have been
servants; but one of them, a handsome girl, with very dashing
nose-ring, and eyelids blackened on the edges, native-fashion,
shook hands with us as well as served us. There were a fair
number of free-and-easy little dark children playing about. The
eldest is C.’s pupil; and one of the first things done was to
hear her repeat her part in a kind of catechism--Christian, of
course.

‘One of the ladies smoked a hookah; had it been even invisible,
we should have been made sensible of its presence by an
occasional bubble-bubble sound, and then a perfume--to our
minds by no means odoriferous. Another lady had her teeth
horridly blackened by what she had been chewing; but, generally
speaking, the natives’ teeth are very nice and white.... I
showed off my beautiful chatelaine, your dear Father’s gift,
which I think pleased; and Miss H. showed hers, which is quite
different in style. You must not suppose that this was a mere
visit of amusement.... No, we had Bible-reading and hymn-singing;
and afterwards C. was evidently holding a religious discussion
with the elder lady.

‘_Dec. 24._--I find that only two of the ladies were wives of
the Sahib; the third was somebody’s relation.

‘Mr. Clark[34] approves of my Oriental tale, only he wishes
some names altered. He is going to give me a list of names,
Muhammadan and Hindu.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

‘_Christmas Day 1875._

‘I was awakened in the night by the Indian Waits, children
singing in the language of the Sikhs ... one of their native
airs. My little Ayah came up to me and shook hands when she
entered my room early in the morning,--is not this the great
Day, and is not she a Christian?--so she may indeed rejoice
and be glad in it. I have prepared little presents for the
dear ladies here, except C., to whom I gave a wedding-present
yesterday. I will pause now, and go on later in the day, when
I may better describe our Indian Christmas. 6½ A.M. Orphans
singing hymns at the top of their voices. They are evidently
very happy. They are to have a Christmas tree.

‘_Later._--I have come home from church, from receiving the
Holy Communion. Thank God, the sheaves _are_ being gathered
in! What would dear Henry Martyn not have given to have seen
what I saw to-day? So many Natives remained to share the holy
Feast, men and women, young and old,--in our little church
there must have been nearly if not quite fifty communicants. I
received the Cup from the hand of a Native. I felt the scene
quite affecting. It is a great privilege to be in India, and
specially now, when the blades are ripening,--though, oh, how
few in number, compared with the Muhammadans and heathen!

‘After church and luncheon I went to the Orphanage Garden, to
help sweet Margaret[35] to deck the Christmas Tree. In less
than half an hour the little guests are to be summoned to
receive their dolls, tops, books, etc. I expect a charming
scene.’