The New Epoch

Perhaps this chapter cannot begin better than with a paragraph from Mr. Carr’s “In Memoriam,” written for the C.M.S. Review of November 1912, although it looks back, and forward, past the boundary of the year.

“Mr. Barton found Mr. Walker’s experience, gained during the four years he had been out, of the greatest value. Mr. Barton devised the outline of the new Church Council and Circle System; but the whole of the detail was worked out by Walker in his tent, while itinerating from village to village, mainly in North Tinnevelly. The fact that the constitution has required so little alteration during the last twenty years speaks volumes for the wonderful power which he possessed of appreciating a situation. Previous to the one District Council started in 1892, the number of Councils had been reduced to four, Walker being made chairman of the two in North Tinnevelly. Efforts were made by the Home Committee to find a senior man who could come out and be chairman of the new single District Church Council; but when these failed, he was asked to be chairman in 1892.”

For the present, however, there was no hint of this:

“I baptised a convert; seems an intelligent man; once fierce opponent. Happy busy day; a delight. Douglas and Storrs [who had joined the mission the previous year] came out. Preached in bazaar street, where Storrs spoke by interpretation. An old Brahman objected, but pleasantly. Preached in large Muhammadan place; surprised at size of it. Got a good crowd and had an address. Afterwards a champion of Islam came to argue. By God’s mercy all went on quietly and we had a good talk together. Breakfast with Grubb [Rev. George Grubb] and his friends. Open prayer -meeting of missionaries; fine word by Grubb.”

A mission followed (” The Lord deliver me from idleness” is interjected between compressed records of work of all sorts). Then on February 17th, a date of some importance to the Tamil Church:

“First meeting of new Executive Committee of Central Council, of which I was elected secretary. Last meeting of mission: Grubb on ‘Be of good cheer,’” a word which, as the next entry is “Weary, disgusted with self; have need of patience,” must have seemed not untimely.

“Grand times we have had,” he writes upon February 24th. “Many, I believe, got a distinct blessing. He [George Grubb] is a plain, uncompromising speaker, hits straight from the shoulder, and has a voice which rings through the church and out into the street beyond.”

The month held a special cheer:

“Off to meet Carr; such a joy to see him again. Praise the Lord! Prayer-meeting. Carr took it and spoke so really [a great word with him]. So glad and thankful to-night. Looking forward to happy Sabbath.”

And the next entry is:

“A happy Sabbath: I believe in the communion of saints.”

Then, for unbroken weeks, camp. The entries are of the briefest description, a mere record of work and passing on. Sometimes there is a personal touch:

“Threw myself on the church’s bare floor and slept two hours. The Vellalars argued much with us; but I assured them that He must reign.”

The North Tinnevelly tour, during which the details of the proposed new schemes for the better organisation of the Church were hammered out and shaped into working form in the intervals between preachings, correspondence, callers, and all the other sundries of itinerating life, began in June:

“June 4. — Off with Carr for N. Tinnevelly.

“June 11. — Catechists joined us during the night with an enquirer. Business letter-writing. Tamil lesson with Carr. Evening to Sivakasi. Rain was falling, but we took our stand in the mandapam, of Saivite temple [outer porch, not sacred part]. Close by was a rhinoceros on view for a trifle, and that attracted some people to neighbourhood. At first undisturbed, but afterwards an infuriated Hindu antichristian preacher objected to our being on temple premises, and we withdrew outside, getting a most attentive audience.

“June 13. — In morning two stands; good hearings. Business filled up most of the day. Hardly a moment’s breathing-time. Took V. and R. [enquirers] in Bible, and also new enquirers came. Evening, Sivakasi again, goldsmith’s street, bazaars; large crowds. Long enquiry to-day into a church building account. Left with an uneasy feeling about such accounts.”

There was uneasiness of another sort, as a letter dated June 26th shows:

“Z. has been inventing new and novel schemes at this late hour, and I cannot agree with him, and so we are rather at a deadlock. Our Missionary Conference is to be held on July 7th in Palamcottah, and the whole question will be discussed then. But I don’t think he will meet with much support. I am afraid that he is vexed with me about it, but my first duty is to the work. Please ask in your prayers that we may be specially guided at this time. It is a most critical one for Tinnevelly, and much depends on the decisions of the next few months. Mr. Gray has written to say that they have no wish to divert me from the evangelistic work, and therefore I feel easier about that. They are trying hard to find a suitable successor to Mr. Barton, but it needs a man of peculiar gifts. God alone can send us the right head, and we are just looking up to Him in this matter.”

The threatened deadlock in mission politics ended as such complications have a pleasant way of doing when there are no private ends to serve, and what both sides desire is the best good of the work in question:

“Last Monday was our Missionary Conference. I had been looking forward to it with dread, as Z. had been suggesting new schemes with which I could not agree at all. However, on the eve of the conference, he came round to my view of things, and so all passed off harmoniously. It is decided that our fourfold itinerancy is not to be interfered with. The evangelistic work must be vigorously carried on.”

In the meantime the itinerating work and all else involved in everyday life went on peacefully, in spite of disturbing influences:

“You don’t know what a lot of things the missionary has to attend to. It is not all preaching to the heathen by any means. I have had to settle disputes between mission agents and remove misunderstandings. As I write, some men have been to me with a catechist whose arm is in splinters and head bruised. He has been beaten by the Roman Catholics because some of their adherents have joined our ranks. And so we go on, all kinds of things to think of and occupy attention. I am talking to a young Hindu as I write this letter. He has studied in our Mission College, but, like so many others, he is held back by ties of earth and family and sin. It is no easy thing to touch the conscience of an idolater. Familiarity with materialistic worship blinds him to sin and to all ideas of God’s holiness and purity.”

Where there were congregations or schools, these were visited; isolated Christians were hunted out and strengthened; disputes were put right if possible, and harassed pastors were cheered: “Pastors to breakfast” is a usual entry. And all the time, side by side with the preaching to the Hindus, was that which was never held to be less important — the effort to build up the Christians in godliness. But it was a grief to see the great towns unmoved by the message of salvation; there they stood, as they still stand all over India, a sorrow, a defiance, and a challenge all in one.

Upon August 5th the journal entry is:

“A new epoch; our wedding-day; service [conducted by Kev. John Barton] quiet and solemn; neither of us very nervous.... Got off, amidst showers of rice, in bullock bandy at 8.15. Salute and an old shoe as we passed Mr. Schaffter’s later on. May God bless this union, and make our lives bright with His presence and praise.”

“Bring out how very human he was,” writes Mr. Storrs; “for instance, it is no desecration of his character to tell you that it was only a month before he was engaged that he gave Carr, Douglas, and myself quite a sermon on the superior advantages of the single life for missionary work. I don’t believe in halos either in church windows or biographies; but I love to see a man as he is, at least as so far as either painter or biographer can know him.” And this being exactly what the writer feels, and what doubtless most readers will feel — others will have dropped off by this time — the human is shown.

But even in this curious age there are some to whom reticence is more natural than speech where such things are concerned, and a very few extracts from the journal may suffice to give the human introduction to the new epoch.

It began at first unconsciously upon his arrival in India, and was continued on the hills during that time of convalescence after typhoid in 1889. The journal entry: “Thank God for all His mercies to me on these hills” may well have included this, as then hardly realised, mercy. Doubts as to the rightfulness of anything of the sort are evident enough in its pages to account for the aforesaid sermon to the three Cantabs; it was given in all sincerity. But a few days later the entries are human to the core:

“December 27, ’89. — Seem to be carried away into some whirlpool.

“January I, ’90. — Distressed and perplexed.

“January 2. — Engagement with Miss Hodge [of the Church of England Zenana Mission]. May the step prove to have been the right one.

“January 4. — A walk with her; more hopeful and happy.

“January 5. — Such a happy time. [It was Sunday.] Sweet day of rest; a delight.”

To his sister Sarah, upon June 14, 1890, he writes:

“I think Miss L. [an old and honoured friend] doesn’t like my being engaged. She ought to be here, and then things would look different. I have a settled kind of feeling that it is all for the best. People don’t know how matter of fact missionary life is. I didn’t till I came and saw for myself. There is not much romance about learning a hard language, and sweating under a hot sun, and preaching day by day to hearts as hard as stones. It is God’s grace alone which can support a man and make him happy amidst it all, and we should thankfully receive all the helps He gives us by the way. I think my views on many subjects have been gradually changing since I came out to India. It has been four years of real discipline.”

Thus it was settled. The comic element was not wanting. “Did you ever hear of a man’s having to read his own marriage banns?” he once asked. “Well, I had to!” A distinctly serious bridegroom-elect, reading his own banns before a small and very intimate English congregation — it was an experience undoubtedly more enjoyable to others than himself.

“August 6. — Reached our destination [Kuttalam] about 5.30; afterwards a quiet day.”

Followed an actual holiday. For ten whole days, if Sunday duty is excepted, there is not an entry about work: walks up-stream to the beautiful falls, bathing, more walks, long happy talks, thus the time passed. But no missionary can rest on his oars for long at Kuttalam; for the pilgrims are a perpetual call, and all around are villages, and near by a town with its temple, whose huge tower, once struck by lightning and split down the centre, still stands strong. So, after the first few days, the page fills as usual.

“August 19. — Confirmation by Bishop Caldwell in Kuttalam church, a centipede stinging my leg all the time,” is an entry which did duty more than once when in later years the little Indian children, who became as his own, clamoured for a story. “Well, I’ll tell you a story: Once I was helping a poor sick Bishop, when suddenly I felt something like a live red-hot needle creeping slowly along my skin. I couldn’t go out of church, because I had been told I might be needed any minute to help the poor Bishop; so I had to stay and go on with the service, and try not to let anybody know anything was wrong. So I looked like this (straightening his face into stoic calm), and nobody knew till the end of the service; and then I went to the vestry and shook down — a great big centipede!” The children were sure Mrs. Walker must have known, and one day rushed in force to ask her. But she shook her head. Nobody knew.

Then, on August 29th:

“Back to Palamcottah. Getting house a little straight. Desk and office paper rummaging. Wrote appeals for Thmevelly itinerancy for men, and for a ladies’ itinerancy; a lecture to the Y.M.C.A. on ‘An unpopular study ‘; business.”

Such are some of the headquarters’ entries.

Then, on September llth: “Off to Nullur.”

Nullur is an outstation, needy, as all outstations are. It has a central church and congregation, and Hindus live in the villages round. In September the place is bare as a board, with the great outline of hills shimmering through the heated air to the west. Here Mrs. Walker worked among the women — Christian and Hindu. Then came camp, the first camp together, then home.

“October 3. — Reached Palamcottah about 3 a.m.; taking up [floor] mats and laying new ones; struggling with house work.

“October 4. — Housework. Phugh! [too human this to omit]. Arsenicing mats [to keep termites from devouring them piecemeal] and getting straight.”

So the journal; and Indian missionaries will understand. For servants here, though made of the friendliest material, have certain views with which the average Westerner finds himself at variance; and house-cleaning, if drastic, is not a soothing undertaking.

Then North Tinnevelly and more house-cleaning; for the missionaries lately resident there had gone, and all was chaos. Then came “heavy correspondence, business, street-preaching with Douglas, miscellaneous writing, Committee meetings, writing of Council minutes. Back to Nullur, preachings for Christians. Storrs on ‘An obedient Church.”

Then Palamcottah, with the usual string of engagements. “So glad of Sabbath prospects,” breaks as ever into the middle of entries of the dullest sort. But the time had a brightness of its own; there was hope ahead for the district, with three new missionaries at work, or shortly to be at work in camp, and a women’s itinerancy planned for needy North Tinnevelly, that great expanse of black cotton soil with populous towns and hundreds of villages practically unreached so far as the women were concerned.

“Storrs is to come with us for Council, and that will be a great help to me,” he writes to his sister on December 31st. “We had our Missionary Conference last Saturday, and that gives me a great deal to think of, as the bulk of the work falls on me.”

So much for the work. The colleague just mentioned
shows something of the worker:

“I think,” he says, in speaking of the absence of distinctive things to tell concerning his friend,” it is partly that, with his exceptional powers, he was so utterly unobtrusive that I have little doubt many people who met him only once, thought he was a very ordinary man. With those who knew him it was more the influence of a strong man who had made God’s will his law of life than the brilliance of his attainments which made them trust him so absolutely.

“One thing I remember, in which he and I joined heart and soul, and that was a protest we sent home against the manipulation of missionaries’ reports so as to show only the rosy side. It wasn’t a nice thing to have to do, and we had difficulty in getting a unanimous vote from the Missionary Conference; but we did it, with good results. If ever there was a true man of God he was. I seldom met anyone who approached him in his unworldliness. You felt he was a man of God. And he was so sympathetic. I can quite understand what you say about his self -depreciation. He was always very sensitive, and when he had to rebuke, it cost.”

But more than ordinary though he was in attainments and in earnestness of life, the lighter side of things appealed as much as ever. Mr. Storrs recalls a familiar story:

“At Pannikulam the pastor’s calf got into the vestry and ate some pages of the Church Register. I remember Walker telling the story, and how the pastor concluded his lament with, ‘And it was a consecrated calf too! I was going to offer it at the Harvest Festival! ‘Walker’s enjoyment of the story and his taking off the woebegone supplicant remain in my memory to this day.”

And letters to his sister occasionally take time to tell the ludicrous:

“You know how poor people at home sometimes stick on to a clergyman or district visitor for what they can get? I will give you an amusing instance of a similar thing here. An Indian pastor went to visit one of his village congregations. Up came an old man, one of the Christians of the good old days (so called). An amusing conversation ensued. Old Christian — ‘Ah, sir, these are bad times. The vedam (Christian religion) has gone to sleep.’ Pastor — ‘No, no! the vedam has not gone to sleep. It’s we who have gone to sleep.’ Old Christian — ‘Not so! the vedam has gone to sleep. Why, in old Mr. S.’s days we got so much rice every week, given free gratis. And now the vedam has gone to sleep.’ There’s a lovely story for you. Poor souls, I fear many never get beyond the temporal advantages of Christianity.”

Two small stories belong to the time in North Tinnevelly. The Sachiapuram bungalow, being empty, had fallen a prey to rats; and these animals had got into the way of helping them selves to the cotton seeds often found in mattresses stuffed with cotton. One night a rat was discovered inside the Walkers’ mosquito net. “Don’t let it out!” he called to his wife as he jumped out to get a stick. She did not relish being inside the net with the rat, and managed to get out without letting it escape; but the story was told against him for many a day; it was too characteristic to be forgotten. It was always one thing at a time with him — the one thing at that moment was the extermination of that rat. The other story has a more missionary flavour.

The walls in the bungalow do not run up to the roof; from her bedroom, hour after hour, Mrs. Walker used to listen to him dealing with the catechists in an adjoining room. A rule had been made that no mission workers were to cultivate land near their mission station, as such entanglements had been found to result in work neglected for the sake of gain. As each catechist came into the room it used to be, “Will you give up your lands 1” A long circuitous reply. “Will you give up your lands?” The previous answer would be repeated with variations and amplifications; a third time the question would be repeated. More involved communication. Then, “You must choose between your lands and your work.” Many men were weeded out during those tedious and often disappointing days, but not till each one had been pleaded with in private.

Upon December 31st, as usual, there is a clear look back’: “Another year gone, brighter than the last; but oh, so full of imperfections,”

“That Thy full glory may abound, increase,
And so Thy likeness shall be formed in me,

I pray; the answer is not rest or peace,

But charges, duties, wants, anxieties,
Till there seems room for everything but Thee,

And never time for anything but these.

“And I should fear, but lol amid the press,

The whirl, and hum, and pressure of my day,
I hear Thy garment’s sweep, Thy seamless dress,
And close beside my work and weariness

Discern Thy gracious form, not far away
But very near, O Lord, to help and bless.”

SUSAN J.COOIJDGE.

1891]