Chapter VI: Dinapore and Patna, 1807-1809 (2)

When the news reached his family in Arabia his brother set out to destroy him, and, disguised as an Asiatic, wounded him with a dagger as he sat in his house at Vizagapatam. He sent him home with letters and gifts to his mother, and then gave himself up to propagate the truth he had once, in his friend Abdallah's person, persecuted to the death. He became one of the translating staff of the Serampore brotherhood, and did good service on the Arabic and Persian Scriptures. Mr. John Marshman, who knew him well, used to describe him as a man of lofty station, of haughty carriage, and with a flowing black beard. Delighted with the simple life and devotion of the missionaries, he dismissed his two Arab servants, and won the affection of all. When Serampore arranged to leave to Henry Martyn the Persian translation of the New Testament, Sabat left them with tears in his eyes for Dinapore. In almost nothing does the saintliness of Martyn appear so complete as in the references in his _Journal_ to the pride, the vanity, the malice, the rage of this 'artless child of the desert,' when it became apparent that his knowledge of Persian and Arabic had been over-estimated. The passages are pathetic, and are equalled only by those which, in the closing days of his life, describe the dying missionary's treatment by his Tartar escort. But to the last, Sabat, according to Colonel MacInnes of Penang,[27] 'never spoke of Mr. Martyn without the most profound respect, and shed tears of grief whenever he recalled how severely he had tried the patience of this faithful servant of God. He mentioned several anecdotes to show with what extraordinary sweetness Martyn had borne his numerous provocations. "He was less a man," he said, "than an angel from heaven."'

The rest of Sabat's story may at once be told. Moved by rage at the exposure, by the Calcutta moonshis, of the incorrectness of his Arabic, and at the suspicions that his translations were copies from some old version, Sabat apostatised by publishing a virulent attack on Christianity. 'As when Judas acted the traitor, Ananias the liar, and Simon Magus the refined hypocrite, so it was when Sabat daringly departed from the nominal profession of the truth. The righteous sorrowed, the unrighteous triumphed; yet wisdom was justified of her children,' wrote Mr. Sargent. He left Calcutta as a trader for Penang, where he wrote to the local newspaper declaring that he professed Christianity anew, and he entered the service of the fugitive Sultan of Acheen, on the north of Sumatra. Thence, when he was imprisoned by the insurgents, he wrote letters with his own blood to the Penang authorities, declaring that he was in some sense a martyr for Christ. All the private efforts of Colonel MacInnes to obtain his freedom were in vain; he was tied up in a sack and thrown into the sea. In the light of these events we must now read Henry Martyn's _Journal_:

_1807, August 24._--To live without sin is what I cannot expect
in this world, but to desire to live without it may be the
experience of every hour. Thinking to-night of the
qualifications of Sabat, I felt the conviction, both in
reflection and prayer, of the power of God to make him another
St. Paul.

_November 10._--The very first day we began to spar. He would
come into none of my plans, nor did I approve of his; but I gave
way, and by yielding prevailed, for he now does everything I
tell him.... Sabat lives and eats with me, and goes to his
bungalow at night, so that I hope he has no care on his mind. On
Sunday morning he went to church with me. While I was in the
vestry a bearer took away his chair from him, saying it was
another gentleman's. The Arab took fire and left the church, and
when I sent the clerk after him he would not return. He
anticipated my expostulations after church, and began to lament
that he had _two_ dispositions, one old, the other new.

_1808, January 11._--Sabat sometimes awakes some of the evil
parts of my nature. Finding I have no book of Logic, he wishes
to translate one of his compositions, to instruct me in that
science. He is much given to contradict, and set people right,
and that he does with an air so dogmatical, that I have not seen
the like of it since I left Cambridge. He looks on the
missionaries at Serampore as so many degrees below him in
intellect, that he says he could write so deeply on a text, that
not one of them would be able to follow him. So I have
challenged him in their name, and to-day he has brought me the
first half of his essay or sermon on a text: with some
ingenuity, it has the most idle display of school-boy pedantic
logic you ever saw. I shall translate it from the Persian, in
order to assist him to rectify his errors. He is certainly
learned in the learning of the Arabs, and how he has acquired so
much in a life so active is strange, but I wish it could be made
to sit a little easier on him. I look forward to St. Paul's
Epistles, in hopes some good will come to him from them. It is a
very happy circumstance that he did not go to preach at his
first conversion; he would have entangled himself in
metaphysical subjects out of his depth, and probably made
shipwreck of his own faith. I have, I think, led him to see that
it is dangerous and foolish to attempt to prove the doctrine of
the Trinity by reason, as he said at first he was perfectly able
to do.

_January 30._--Sabat to-day finishes St. Matthew, and will write
to you on the occasion. Your letter to him was very kind and
suitable, but I think you must not mention his logic to him,
except with contempt; for he takes what you say on that head as
homage due to his acquirements, and praise to him is brandy to a
man in a high fever. He loves as a Christian brother; but as a
logician he holds us all in supreme contempt. He assumes all the
province of reasoning as his own by right, and decides every
question magisterially. He allows Europeans to know a little
about Arithmetic and Navigation, but nothing more. Dear man! I
smile to observe his pedantry. Never have I seen such an
instance of dogmatical pride since I heard Dr. Parr preach his
Greek Sermon at St. Mary's, about the τὸ ὄν.

_March 7._--Mirza is gone to the Mohurrum to-day: he discovers
no signs of approach to the truth. Sabat creates himself enemies
in every quarter by his jealous and passionate spirit,
particularly among the servants. At his request I have sent away
my tailor and bearers, and he is endeavouring to get my other
servants turned away; because without any proof he suspects them
of having persuaded the bearers not to come into his service. He
can now get no bearers nor tailor to serve him. One day this
week he came to me, and said that he meant to write to Mr. Brown
to remove him from this place, for everything went wrong--the
people were all wicked, etc. The immediate cause of this
vexation was that some boxes, which he had been making at the
expense of 150 rupees, all cracked at the coming on of the hot
weather. I concealed my displeasure at his childish fickleness
of temper, and discovered no anxiety to retain him, but quietly
told him of some of the consequences of removing, so it is gone
out of his mind. But Mirza happened to hear all Sabat's
querulous harangue, and, in order to vex and disgust him
effectually, rode almost into his house, and came in with his
shoes. This irritated the Arab; but Mirza's purpose was not
answered. Mirza began next day to tell a parcel of lies about
Sabat, and to bring proofs of his own learning. The manifest
tendency of all this was to make a division between Sabat and
me, and to obtain his _salary_ and work for himself. Oh, the
hypocrisy and wickedness of an Indian! I never saw a more
remarkable contrast in two men than in Mirza and Sabat. One is
all exterior--the other has no outside at all; one a most
consummate man of the world--the other an artless child of the
desert.

_March 28._--Sabat has been tolerably quiet this week; but think
of the keeper of a lunatic, and you see me. A war of words broke
out the beginning of last week, but it ended in an honourable
peace. After he got home at night he sent a letter, complaining
of a high crime and misdemeanour in some servant; I sent him a
soothing letter, and the wild beast fell asleep. In all these
altercations we take occasion to consider the extent of
Christian forbearance, as necessary to be exercised in all the
smaller occasions of life, as well as when persecution comes for
religion. This he has not been hitherto aware of. One night in
prayer I forgot to mention Mr. Brown; so, after I had done, he
continued on his knees and went on and prayed in Persian for
him. I was much pleased at this.

Did you read Lord Minto's speech, and his commendation of those
_learned and pious men_, the missionaries? I have looked upon
him ever since as a nursing-father to the Church.

_April 11._--It is surprising that a man can be so blinded by
vanity as to suppose, as Sabat does, that he is superior to
Mirza in Hindustani; yet this he does, and maintains it stoutly.
I am tired of combating this opinion, as nothing comes of our
arguments but strifes. Another of his odd opinions is, that he
is so under the immediate influence and direction of the Spirit,
that there will not be one single error in his whole Persian
translation. You perceive a little enthusiasm in the character
of our brother. As often as he finds himself in any difficulty,
he expects a dream to set him right.

_April 26._--These Orientals with whom I translate require me to
point out the connection between every two sentences, which is
often more than I can do. It is curious how accurately they
observe all the rules of writing, and yet generally write badly.
I can only account for it by supposing that they have been
writing too long. From time immemorial they have been authors,
without progressive knowledge; and so to produce variety they
supply their lack of knowledge by overstraining their
imagination; hence their extravagant metaphors and affected way
of expressing the commonest things. Sabat, though a real
Christian, has not lost a jot of his Arabian pride. He looks
upon the Europeans as mushrooms, and seems to regard my
pretensions to any learning as we do those of a savage or an
ape.

_May 31._--Some days Sabat overworked himself and was laid up.
He does his utmost. He is increasingly dear to me, as I see more
of the meekness and gentleness of Christ in him. Our conflicts I
hope are over, and we shall draw very quietly together side by
side.

In all this, and much more that followed, or is unrecorded, Henry Martyn was being prepared unconsciously for his formal and unanswered controversies with the learned Mussulmans of Persia. His letters to Corrie tell of his farther experience with his moonshis and the moulvies of Patna, and describe the true spirit of such 'disputings' for the truth.

_1807, April 28._--Of what importance is our walk in reference
to our ministry, and particularly among the natives. For myself,
I never enter into a dispute with them without having reason to
reflect that I mar the work for which I contend by the spirit
in which I do it. During my absence at Monghyr moonshi went to a
learned native for assistance against an answer I had given him
to their main argument for the Koran, and he not being able to
render it, they mean to have down their leading man from Benares
to convince me of the truth of their religion. I wish a spirit
of inquiry may be excited, but I lay not much stress upon _clear
arguments_; the work of God is seldom wrought in this way. To
preach the Gospel, with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven, is
a better way to win souls.

_May 4._--I am preparing for the assault of this great
Mohammedan Imaum. I have read the Koran and notes twice for this
purpose, and even filled whole sheets with objections, remarks,
questions, etc.; but, alas! what little hopes have I of doing
him or any of them good in this way! Moonshi is in general mute.

_October 28._--At night, in a conversation with Mirza
accidentally begun, I spoke to him for more than three hours on
Christianity and Mohammedanism. He said there was no passage in
the Gospel that said no prophet shall come after Christ. I
showed him the last verse in Matthew, the passages in Isaiah and
Daniel, on the eternity of Christ's kingdom, and proved it from
the nature of the way of salvation in the Gospel. I then told
him my objections against Mohammedanism, its laws, its defects,
its unnecessariness, the unsuitableness of its rewards, and its
utter want of support by proof. When he began to mention
Mahomet's miracles, I showed him the passages in the 6th and
13th chapters of the Koran, where he disavows the power. Nothing
surprised him so much as these passages; he is, poor man,
totally indifferent about all religion; he told me that I had
produced great doubt in his mind, and that he had no answer to
give.

_November 21._--My mind violently occupied with thoughts
respecting the approaching spread of the Gospel, and my own
going to Persia. Sabat's conversation stirs up a great desire in
me to go; as by his account all the Mahometan countries are ripe
for throwing off the delusion. The gracious Lord will teach me,
and make my way plain before my face. Oh, may He keep my soul in
peace, and make it indifferent to me whether I die or live, so
Christ be magnified by me. I have need to receive this spirit
from Him, for I feel at present unwilling to die, as if my own
life and labours were necessary for this work, or as if I should
be deprived of the bliss of seeing the conversion of the
nations. Vain thought! God, who keeps me here awhile, arranges
every part of His plans in unerring wisdom, and if I should be
cut off in the midst of my plans, I shall still, I trust,
through mercy, behold His works in heaven, and be everlastingly
happy in the never-ceasing admiration of His works and nature.
Every day the disputes with Mirza and Moorad Ali become more
interesting. Their doubts of Mahometanism seem to have amounted
almost to disbelief. Moorad Ali confessed that they all received
their religion, not on conviction, but because it was the way of
their fathers; and he said with great earnestness, that if some
great Sheikh-ool-Islam, whom he mentioned, could not give an
answer, and a satisfactory, rational evidence, of the truth of
Islamism, he would renounce it and be baptized. Mirza seemed
still more anxious and interested, and speaks of it to me and
Sabat continually. In translating 1 Timothy i. 15, I said to
them, 'You have in that verse heard the Gospel; your blood will
not be required at my hands; you will certainly remember these
words at the last day.' This led to a long discussion, at the
close of which, when I said that, notwithstanding their
endeavours to identify the two religions, there is still so much
difference 'that if our word is true you are lost,' they looked
at each other almost with consternation, and said 'It is true.'
Still the Trinity and the incarnation of Christ afford a plea to
the one, and a difficulty to the other.

At another time, when I had, from some passage, hinted to Mirza
his danger, he said with great earnestness, 'Sir, why won't you
try to save me?' 'Save you?' said I, 'I would lay down my life
to save your soul: what can I do?' He wished me to go to
Phoolwari, the Mussulman college, and there examine the subject
with the most learned of their doctors. I told him I had no
objection to go to Phoolwari, but why could not he as well
inquire for himself whether there were any evidence for
Mohammedanism?

_1808, June 14._--Called on Bahir Ali Khan, Dare, and the
Italian padre; with Bahir Ali I stayed two hours, conversing in
Persian. He began our theological discussion with a question to
me, 'How do you reconcile God's absolute power and man's free
will?' I pleaded ignorance and inability, but he replied to his
own question very fully, and his conclusion seemed to be that
God had created evil things for the trial of His creatures. His
whole manner, look, authority, and copiousness constantly
reminded me of the Dean of Carlisle.[28] I asked him for the
proofs of the religion of Mahomet. The first he urged was the
eloquence of the Koran. After a long time he conceded that it
was, of itself, an insufficient argument. I then brought forward
a passage of the Koran containing a sentiment manifestly false;
on which he floundered a good deal; but concluded with saying
that I must wait till I knew more of logic and Persian before he
could explain it to me satisfactorily. On the whole, I was
exceedingly pleased with his candour, politeness, and good
sense. He said he had nothing to lose by becoming a Christian,
and that, if he were once persuaded of the truth, he would
change without hesitation. He showed me an Arabic translation of
Euclid.

_June 15._--Read an account of Turkey. The bad effects of the
book were so great that I found instant need of prayer, and I do
not know when I have had such divine and animating feelings. Oh,
it is Thy Spirit that makes me pant for the skies. It is He that
shall make me trample the world and my lusts beneath my feet,
and urge my onward course towards the crown of life.

_December 5._--Went to Patna to Sabat, and saw several Persians
and Arabians. I found that the intended dispute had come to
nothing, for that Ali had told Sabat he had been advised by his
father not to dispute with him. They behaved with the utmost
incivility to him, not giving him a place to sit down, and
desiring him at last to go. Sabat rose, and shook his garment
against them, and said, 'If you know Mohammedanism to be right,
and will not try to convince me, you will have to answer for it
at the day of judgment. I have explained to you the Gospel; I am
therefore pure from your blood.' He came home and wrote some
poetry on the Trinity, and the Apostles, which he recited to me.
We called on Mizra Mehdi, a jeweller, who showed us some
diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. With an old Arabian there I
tried to converse in Arabic. He understood my Arabic, but I
could not understand his. They were all full of my praise, but
then the pity was that I was a Christian. I challenged them to
show what there was wrong in being a Nazarene, but they
declined. Afterwards we called on the nabob Moozuffur Ali Khan.
The house Sabat lived in was properly an Oriental one; and, as
he said, like those in Syria. It reminded me often of the
Apostles, and the recollection was often solemnising.

_December 6 to 8._--Betrayed more than once into evil temper,
which left dreadful remorse of conscience; I cried unto God in
secret, but the sense of my sinfulness was overwhelming. It had
a humbling effect, however. In prayer with my men I was led more
unfeignedly to humble myself even to the dust, and after that I
enjoyed, through the sovereign mercy of God, much peace, and a
sense of His presence. Languid in my studies; indisposition
causing sleepiness. Reading chiefly Persian and a little Greek:
Hanway, Waring, and Franklin's Travels into Persia. Haji Khan, a
sensible old man from Patna, called two days following, and sat
a long time conversing upon religion.

TO MRS. DARE, GAYA

Dinapore: May 19, 1808.

Dear Mrs. Dare,[29]--Your letter arrived just in time to save
you from some severe animadversions that were preparing for you.
I intended to have sent by your young friend some remarks,
direct and oblique, on the variableness of the sex, the facility
with which promises are made and broken, the pleasures of
indolence, and other topics of the like nature,--but your kind
epistle disarms me. Soon after you left us, the heat increased
to a degree I had never before felt, and made me often think of
you with concern. I used to say to Colonel Bradshaw, 'I wonder
how Mrs. Dare likes Gya, and its burning hills--I dare say she
would be glad to be back again.' Well, I should be glad if we
had you here again. I want female society, and among the ladies
of Dinapore there is none with whom I have a chance of obtaining
a patient hearing when speaking to them on the subject of their
most important interest. This, you know, is the state of all but
Mrs. Stuart, and it is a state of danger and death. Follow them
no more, my dear friend: but now, in the solitude of Gya, learn
those lessons of heavenly wisdom, that, when you are brought
again into a larger society, you may not yield to the impulse of
doing as others do, but, by a life of true seriousness, put them
to shame.

I go on much as usual, occupied all day, and laying a weary
head on the pillow at night. My health, which you inquire after
so kindly, is on the whole good; but I am daily reminded that it
is a fragile frame I carry about.

_August 23._--I rejoice to find by your letter that you are
contented with your lot. Before the time of Horace, and since
too, contentment has been observed to be a very rare thing on
earth, and I know not how it is to be obtained but by learning
in the school of the Gospel. 'I have _learned_,' said even St.
Paul, 'in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.' To be
a little slanderous for once, I suspect Colonel Bradshaw, our
common friend, who will send you a letter by the same sepoy,
must have a lecture or two more read to him in this science, as
he is far from being perfect in it. He has, you know, all that
heart can wish of this world's goods, and yet he is restless;
sometimes the society is dull; at other times the blame is laid
on the quarters, and he must go out of cantonments. To-day he is
going to Gya, to-morrow on the river. Now, I tell him that he
need not change his place, but his heart. Let him seek his
happiness in God, and he will carry about a paradise in his own
bosom. _The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for
him, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose._

_September 23._--My dear Mrs. Dare, attend to the call of God;
He never speaks more to the heart than by affliction. Such a
season as this, so favourable to the commencement of true piety,
may never again occur. Hereafter time may have riveted worldly
habits on you, and age rendered the heart insensible. Begin now
to be melancholy? No--to be seriously happy, to be purely happy,
everlastingly happy.

Ever, through the solitude, the suffering, and the toiling of the first twelve months at Dinapore, the thought of Lydia Grenfell, the hope of her union to him, and her help in his agonising for India, runs like a chord of sad music. He thus writes to his cousin, her sister:

Indeed, all my Europe letters this season have brought me such
painful news that I almost dread receiving another. Such is the
vanity of our expectations. I had been looking out with more
than ordinary anxiety for these letters, thinking they would
give me some account of Lydia's coming--whereas yours and hers
have only wounded me, and my sister's,[30] giving me the
distressing tidings of her ill-health, makes my heart bleed. Oh,
it is now that I feel the agony of having half the globe
intervening between us. Could I but be with her: yet God who
heareth prayer will surely supply my place. From Sally I expect
neither promptness nor the ability to console her sister. This
is the first time Sally has taken up her pen to write to me, and
thought an apology necessary for her neglect. Perhaps she has
been wrapt up in her dear husband, or her dearer self. I feel
very angry with her. But my dear faithful Lydia has more than
compensated for all the neglect of my own relations. I believe
she has sent me more than all the rest in England put together.
If I had not loved her before, her affectionate and constant
remembrance of me would win my heart.

You mention the name of your last little one (may she be a
follower of her namesake!). It reminds me of what Mr. Brown has
lately written to me. He says that Mrs. B. had determined her
expected one should be called after me: but, as it proved to be
a girl, it was called _Lydia Martyn Brown_, a combination that
suggests many reflections to my mind.

And now I ought to begin to write about myself and India: but I
fear you are not so interested about me as you used to be: yet
the Church of God, I know, is dear to you always! Let me speak
of the ministers. The Gospel was preached before the
Governor-General by seven different evangelical chaplains in the
course of six months. Of these five have associated, agreeing to
communicate with each other quarterly reports of their
proceedings. They are Mr. Brown at Calcutta, Thompson at
Cuddalore, Parson at Berhampore, Corrie at Chunar, and myself
here. Corrie and myself, as being most similarly employed,
correspond every week. He gives all his attention to the
languages, and has his heart wholly towards the heathen. He has
set on foot four schools in his neighbourhood, and I four here
along the banks of the Ganges, containing 120 boys: he has
nearly the same number. The masters are heathens--but they have
consented with some reluctance to admit the Christian books. The
little book on the Parables in the dialect of Bihar, which I had
prepared for them, is now in the press at Serampore; for the
present, they read with their own books the Sermon on the Mount.
We hope by the help of God to enlarge the plan of the schools
very considerably, as soon as we have felt the ground, and can
advance boldly.

Respecting my own immediate plans, I am rather in the dark. They
wish to engage me as a translator of the Scriptures into
Hindustani and Persian, by the help of some learned natives; and
if this plan is settled at Calcutta, I shall engage in it
without hesitation, as conceiving it to be the most useful way
in which I can be employed at present in the Church of God. If
not, I hope to begin to itinerate as soon as the rains are over;
not that I can hope to be easily understood yet, but by mixing
familiarly with the natives I should soon learn. Little
permanent good, however, can be done till some of the Scriptures
can be put into their hands. On this account I wish to help
forward this work as quick as possible, because a chapter will
speak plainly in a thousand places at once, while I can speak,
and not very plainly, but in one. One advantage attending the
delay of public preaching will be that the schools will have a
fair run, for the commencement of preaching will be the downfall
of the schools. I have my tent ready, and would set out with
pleasure to-morrow if the time for this work were come. As there
is public service here every Lord's Day, three days' journey is
the longest I can take. This may hereafter prove an
inconvenience: but the advantages of being a Company's servant
are incalculable. A missionary not in the service is liable to
be stopped by every subaltern; but there is no man that can
touch me. Amongst the Europeans at this station I am not without
encouragement. Eight or ten, chiefly corporals or sergeants,
come to my quarters Sunday and Wednesday nights for social
worship: but it does not appear that more than one are truly
converted. The commanding officer of the native battalion and
his lady, whom I mentioned in my last, are, I think,
increasingly serious--but the fear of man is their snare. Mrs.
Young says that, with Lydia to support her, she could face the
frown of the world. I had been looking forward with pleasure to
the time when she _would_ have such support, and rejoiced that
Lydia would have so sensible and hopeful a companion.

Dinapore: December, 1807.

My dear Cousin,--Your letter, after so long a silence, was a
great relief to me, as it assured me of your undiminished
affection; but I regretted you had been so sparing in your
consolations on the subject of my late disappointment. Remember,
it was to you I used to unbosom all my anxieties, and I still
look to you for that sympathising tenderness which no other
person perhaps feels for me, or at least can venture to express.
How every particular of our conversation in the journey from
Redruth to Plymouth Dock returns to my mind! I have reason
indeed to remember it--from that time I date my sorrows--we
talked too much about Lydia. Her last letter was to bid me a
final farewell, so I must not write to her without her
permission; she wished she might hear by you that I was happy. I
am therefore obliged to say that God has, according to her
prayer, kept me in peace, and indeed strengthened me unto all
patience and long-suffering with joyfulness. At first, like
Jonah, I was more grieved at the loss of my gourd than at the
sight of the many perishing Ninevehs all round me; but now my
earthly woes and earthly attachments seem to be absorbing in the
vast concern of communicating the Gospel to these nations. After
this last lesson from God on the vanity of creature love, I feel
desirous to be nothing, to have nothing, to ask for nothing, but
what He gives. So remarkably and so repeatedly has He baffled my
schemes of earthly comfort that I am forced at last to believe
His determination to be, that I should live in every sense a
stranger and pilgrim on the earth. Lydia allows me not the most
distant prospect of ever seeing her; and if indeed the supposed
indelicacy of her coming out to me is an obstacle that cannot be
got over, it is likely indeed to be a lasting separation: for
when shall I ever see it lawful to leave my work here for three
years, when every hour is unspeakably precious? I am beginning
therefore to form my plans as a person in a state of celibacy,
and mean to trouble you no more on what I have been lately
writing about so much. However, let me be allowed to make one
request; it is that Lydia would at least consider me as she did
before, and write as at that time. Perhaps there may be some
objection to this request, and therefore I dare not urge it. I
say only that by experience I know it will prove an inestimable
blessing and comfort to me. If you really wish to have a
detailed account of my proceedings, exert your influence in
effecting this measure; for you may be sure that I shall be
disposed to write to _her_ letters long enough, longer than to
any other, for this reason among others, that of the three in
the world who have most love for me, _i.e._ Sally, Lydia, and
yourself, I believe that, notwithstanding all that has
happened, the middle one loves most truly. If this conjecture of
mine is well-founded, she will be most interested in what
befalls me, and I shall write in less fear of tiring. My bodily
health, which you require me always to mention, is prodigious,
my strength and spirits are in general greater than ever they
were, and this under God I ascribe to the susceptibility of my
frame, giving me instant warning of anything that may disorder
it. Half-an-hour's exposure to the sun produces an immediate
overflow of bile: therefore I take care never to let the sun's
rays fall upon my body. Vexation or anxiety has the same effect.
For this, faith and prayer for the peace of God are the best
remedy.

Since my last letter, written a few months ago in reply to
Cousin T., I do not recollect that anything has happened. Dr.
Buchanan's last publication on the Christian Institution will
give you the most full and interesting accounts of the affairs
of our Lord's kingdom in India. The press seems to us all to be
the great instrument at present. Preaching by the European
Mission here has in no instance that I know of been successful.
Everything in our manner, pronunciation, and doctrine is so new
and strange, that to instruct them properly _vivâ voce_ seems to
be giving more time to a small body of them than can be
conveniently spared from the great mass. Yet, on the other hand,
I feel reason to be guarded against the love of carnal ease,
which would make me prefer the literary work of translating to
that of an itinerant: upon the whole, however, I acquiesce in
the work that Dr. B. has assigned me, from conviction. Through
the blessing of God I have finished the New Testament in the
Perso-Arabic-Hindustani, but it must undergo strict revisal
before it can be sent to the press. My assistants in this work
were Mirza Mahommed Ali and Moorad Ali, two Mahometans, and I
sometimes hope there are convictions in their minds which they
will not be able to shake off. They have not much doubt of the
falsehood of Mahometanism, and the truth of the Gospel, but they
cannot take up the cross.

The arrival of Jawad Sabat, our Arabian brother, at Dinapore,
had a great effect upon them.... He is now employed in
translating the New Testament into Persian and Arabic, and great
will be the benefit to his own soul, that he is called to study
the Word of God: the Bible Society at home will, I hope, bear
the expense of printing it. This work, whenever it is done
properly, will be the downfall of Mahometanism. What do I not
owe to the Lord for giving me to take part in a translation?
Never did I see such wonders of wisdom and love in the blessed
book, as since I have been obliged to study every expression;
and it is often a delightful reflection, that even death cannot
deprive us of the privilege of studying its mysteries.... I
forgot to mention Lydia's profile, which I received. I have now
to request her miniature picture, and you must draw on Mr.
Simeon, my banker, for the expense.... I need not assure you and
Cousin T. of my unceasing regard, nor Lydia of my unalterable
attachment. God bless you all, my beloved friends. Pray for me,
as I do also for you. Our separation will soon be over.

_July 3._--Received two Europe letters--one from Lydia, and the
other from Colonel Sandys. The tender emotions of love, and
gratitude, and veneration for her, were again powerfully
awakened in my mind, so that I could with difficulty think of
anything else; yet I found myself drawn nearer to God by the
pious remarks of her letter. Nature would have desired more
testimonies of her love to me, but grace approved her ardent
love to her Lord.

TO CHARLES SIMEON[31]

Danapore (_sic_): January, 1808.

My dearest Friend and Brother,--I must begin my letter with
assurances of eternal regard; eternal will it be if I find
grace to be faithful.... My expectation of seeing Lydia here is
now at an end. I cannot doubt any longer what is the Divine
will, and I bow to it. Since I have been led to consider myself
as perfectly disengaged from the affairs of this life, my soul
has been filled with more ardent desires to spend and be spent
in the service of God; and though in truth the world has now
little to charm me, I think these desires do not arise from a
misanthropic disgust to it.... I never loved, nor ever shall
love, human creature as I love her.

Soon after David Brown of Calcutta wrote to Charles Simeon, whom a rumour of Henry Martyn's engagement to Miss Corrie, his friend's sister, had reached: 'How could you imagine that Miss C. would do as well as Miss L.G. for Mr. Martyn? Dear Martyn is married already to three wives, whom, I believe, he would not forsake for all the princesses in the earth--I mean his three translations of the Holy Scriptures.'

To Mrs. Brown at Aldeen, who was his confidante in India, Martyn wrote on July 21:

It appears that the letter by the overland despatch did not
reach Lydia. Again, the Sarah Christiana packet, which carried
the duplicate, ought to have arrived long before the sailing of
these last ships from England, but I see no account of her. It
is probable, therefore, that I shall have to wait a considerable
time longer in uncertainty; all which is good, because so hath
the Lord appointed it.

_July 25._--Hard at Arabic grammar all day, after finishing
sermon. Sat in the evening a long time at my door, after the
great fatigue of the day, to let my mind relax itself, and found
a melancholy pleasure in looking back upon the time spent at St.
Hilary and Marazion. How the days and years are gone by, as a
tale that is told!

At last the blow had fallen.

_October 24._--An unhappy day: received at last a letter from
Lydia, in which she refuses to come because her mother will not
consent to it. Grief and disappointment threw my soul into
confusion at first, but gradually as my disorder subsided my
eyes were opened, and reason resumed its office. I could not but
agree with her that it would not be for the glory of God, nor
could we expect His blessing, if she acted in disobedience to
her mother. As she has said, 'They that walk in crooked paths
shall not find peace;' and if she were to come with an uneasy
conscience, what happiness could we either of us expect?

TO LYDIA GRENFELL

Dinapore: October 24, 1807.

My dear Lydia,--Though my heart is bursting with grief and
disappointment, I write not to blame you. The rectitude of all
your conduct secures you from censure. Permit me calmly to reply
to your letter of March 5, which I have this day received.

You condemn yourself for having given me, though
unintentionally, encouragement to believe that my attachment was
returned. Perhaps you have. I have read your former letters with
feelings less sanguine since the receipt of the last, and I am
still not surprised at the interpretation I put upon them. But
why accuse yourself for having written in this strain? It has
not increased my expectations nor consequently embittered my
disappointment. When I addressed you in my first letter on the
subject, I was not induced to it by any appearances of regard
you had expressed, neither at any subsequent period have my
hopes of your consent been founded on a belief of your
attachment to me. I knew that your conduct would be regulated,
not by personal feelings, but by a sense of duty. And therefore
you have nothing to blame yourself for on this head.

In your last letter you do not assign among your reasons for
refusal a want of regard to me. In that case I could not in
decency give you any further trouble. On the contrary, you say
that '_present_ circumstances seem to you to forbid my indulging
expectations.' As this leaves an opening, I presume to address
you again; and till the answer arrives must undergo another
eighteen months of torturing suspense.

Alas! my rebellious heart--what a tempest agitates me! I knew
not that I had made so little progress in a spirit of
resignation to the Divine will. I am in my chastisement like a
bullock unaccustomed to the yoke, like a wild bull in a net,
full of the fury of the Lord, the rebuke of my God. The death of
my late most beloved sister almost broke my heart; but I hoped
it had softened me and made me willing to suffer. But now my
heart is as though destitute of the grace of God, full of
misanthropic disgust with the world, and sometimes feeling
resentment against yourself and Emma, and Mr. Simeon, and, in
short, all whom I love and honour most; sometimes, in pride and
anger, resolving to write neither to you nor to any one else
again. These are the motions of sin. My love and my better
reason draw me to you again.... But now with respect to your
mother, I confess that the chief and indeed only difficulty lies
here. Considering that she is _your_ mother, as I hoped she
would be mine, and that her happiness so much depends on you;
considering also that I am God's minister, which amidst all the
tumults of my soul I dare not forget, I falter in beginning to
give advice which may prove contrary to the law of God. God
forbid, therefore, that I should say, disobey your parents,
where the Divine law does not command you to disobey them;
neither do I positively take upon myself to say that this is a
case in which the law of God requires you to act in
contradiction to them. I would rather suggest to your mother
some considerations which justify me in attempting to deprive
her of the company of a beloved child.

_October 26._--A Sabbath having intervened since the above was
written, I find myself more tranquillised by the sacred
exercises of the day. One passage of Scripture which you quote
has been much on my mind, and I find it very appropriate and
decisive,--that we are not to 'make to ourselves crooked paths,
which whoso walketh in shall not know peace.' Let me say I must
be therefore contented to wait till you feel that the way is
clear. But I intended to justify myself to Mrs. Grenfell. Let
her not suppose that I would make her or any other of my
fellow-creatures miserable, that I might be happy. If there were
no reason for your coming here, and the contest were only
between Mrs. Grenfell and me, that is, between her happiness and
mine, I would urge nothing further, but resign you to her. But I
have considered that there are many things that might reconcile
her to a separation from you (if indeed a separation is
necessary, for if she would come along with you, I should
rejoice the more). First, she does not depend on you alone for
the comfort of her declining years. She is surrounded by
friends. She has a greater number of sons and daughters
honourably established in the world than falls to the lot of
most parents--all of whom would be happy in having her amongst
them. Again, if a person worthy of your hand, and settled in
England, were to offer himself, Mrs. Grenfell would not have
insuperable objections, though it _did_ deprive her of her
daughter. Nay, I sometimes think, perhaps arrogantly, that had I
myself remained in England, and in possession of a competency,
she would not have withheld her consent. Why, then, should my
banishment from my native country, in the service of mankind, be
a reason with any for inflicting an additional wound, far more
painful than a separation from my dearest relatives?

I have no claim upon Mrs. Grenfell in any way, but let her only
conceive a son of her own in my circumstances. If she feels it a
sacrifice, let her remember that it is a sacrifice made to duty;
that your presence here would be of essential service to the
Church of God it is superfluous to attempt to prove. If you
really believe of yourself as you speak, it is because you were
never out of England.

Your mother cannot be so misinformed respecting India and the
voyage to it as to be apprehensive on account of the climate or
passage, in these days when multitudes of ladies every year,
with constitutions as delicate as yours, go to and fro in
perfect safety, and a vastly greater majority enjoy their health
here than in England. With respect to my means I need add
nothing to what was said in my first letter. But, alas! what is
my affluence good for now? It never gave me pleasure but when I
thought you were to share it with me. Two days ago I was
hastening on the alterations in my house and garden, supposing
you were at hand; but now every object excites disgust. My wish,
upon the whole, is that if you perceive it would be your duty to
come to India, were it not for your mother--and of that you
cannot doubt--supposing, I mean, that your inclinations are
indifferent, then you should make her acquainted with your
thoughts, and let us leave it to God how He will determine her
mind.

In the meantime, since I am forbidden to hope for the immediate
pleasure of seeing you, my next request is for a mutual
engagement. My own heart is engaged, I believe, indissolubly.

My reason for making a request which you will account bold is
that there can then be no possible objection to our
correspondence, especially as I promise not to persuade you to
leave your mother.

In the midst of my present sorrow I am constrained to remember
yours. Your compassionate heart is pained from having been the
cause of suffering to me. But care not for me, dearest Lydia.
Next to the bliss of having you with me, my happiness is to know
that you are happy. I shall have to groan long, perhaps, with a
heavy heart; but if I am not hindered materially by it in the
work of God, it will be for the benefit of my soul. You, sister
beloved in the Lord, know much of the benefit of affliction. Oh,
may I have grace to follow you, though at a humble distance, in
the path of patient suffering, in which you have walked so long!
Day and night I cease not to pray for you, though I fear my
prayers are of little value.

But, as an encouragement to you to pray, I cannot help
transcribing a few words from my journal, written at the time
you wrote your letter to me (March 7): 'As on the two last days'
(you wrote your letter on the 5th), 'felt no desire for a
comfortable settlement in the world, scarcely pleasure at the
thought of Lydia's coming, except so far as her being sent might
be for the good of my soul and assistance in my work. How
manifestly is there an omnipresent, all-seeing God, and how sure
we may be that prayers for spiritual blessings are heard by our
God and Father! Oh, let that endearing name quell every murmur!
When I am sent for to different parts of the country to
officiate at marriages, I sometimes think, amidst the festivity
of the company, Why does all go so easily with them, and so
hardly with me? They come together without difficulty, and I am
baulked and disconcerted almost every step I take, and condemned
to wear away the time in uncertainty. Then I call to mind that
to live without chastening is allowed to the spurious offspring,
while to suffer is the privilege of the children of God.'

Dearest Lydia, must I conclude? I could prolong my communion
with you through many sheets; how many things have I to say to
you, which I hoped to have communicated in person. But the more
I write and the more I think of you, the more my affection
warms, and I should feel it difficult to keep my pen from
expressions that might not be acceptable to you.

Farewell! dearest, most beloved Lydia, remember your faithful
and ever affectionate,

H. MARTYN.

_October 25._ (Sunday.)--Preached on Isaiah lii. 13 to a large
congregation, my mind continually in heaviness, and my health
disturbed in consequence. The women still fewer than ever at
Hindustani prayer, and, at night, some of the men who were not
on duty did not come; all these things are deeply afflicting,
and yet my heart is so full of its own griefs, that I mourn not
as I ought for the Church of God. I have not a moment's relief
from my burdens but after being some time in prayer; afterwards
my uneasiness and misery return again.

_October 26._--Mirza from Benares arrived to-day; I employed all
the day in writing letters to Mr. Brown, Corrie, and Lydia. The
last was a sweet and tranquillising employment to me. I felt
more submission to the Divine will, and began to be more
solicitous about Lydia's peace and happiness than my own. How
much has she been called to suffer! These are they that come out
of great tribulation.

TO REV. DAVID BROWN

Dinapore: October 26, 1807.

My dear Sir,--I have received your two letters of the 14th and
17th; the last contained a letter from Lydia. It is as I feared.
She refuses to come because her mother will not give her
consent. Sir, you must not wonder at my pale looks when I
receive so many hard blows on my heart. Yet a Father's love
appoints the trial, and I pray that it may have its intended
effect. Yet, if you wish to prolong my existence in this world,
make a representation to some persons at home who may influence
her friends. Your word will be believed sooner than mine. The
extraordinary effect of mental disorder on my bodily frame is
unfortunate; trouble brings on disease and disorders the sleep.
In this way I am labouring a little now, but not much; in a few
days it will pass away again. He that hath delivered and doth
deliver, is He in whom we trust that He will yet deliver.

* * * * *

The queen's ware on its way to me can be sold at an outcry or
sent to Corrie. I do not want queen's ware or anything else now.
My new house and garden, without the person I expected to share
it with me, excite disgust.

_November 25._--Letters came from Mr. Simeon and Lydia, both of
which depressed my spirits exceedingly; though I have been
writing for some days past, that I might have it in my power to
consider myself free, so as to be able to go to Persia or
elsewhere;--yet, now that the wished-for permission is come, I
am filled with grief; I cannot bear to part with Lydia, and she
seems more necessary to me than my life; yet her letter was to
bid me a last farewell. Oh, how have I been crossed from
childhood, and yet how little benefit have I received from these
chastisements of my God! The Lord now sanctify this, that since
the last desire of my heart also is withheld, I may with
resignation turn away for ever from the world, and henceforth
live forgetful of all but God. With Thee, O my God, there is no
disappointment; I shall never have to regret that I loved Thee
too well. Thou hast said, 'Delight thyself in the Lord, and He
shall give thee the desires of thine heart.'

_November 26._--Received a letter from Emma, which again had a
tendency to depress my spirits; all the day I could not attain
to sweet resignation to God. I seemed to be cut off for ever
from happiness in not having Lydia with me.

The receipt of his letter of October 24, 1807, was thus acknowledged, before God, by Lydia Grenfell in her _Diary_: