‘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.’
CHAPTER II
A.D. 1875-1876
A HOME IN AMRITSAR
In the previous spring, when first Charlotte Tucker decided to go out, she wrote in one letter a statement of the financial plan to be followed. ‘I have arranged with the Society,’ she said, ‘to pay 200 rupees a quarter for my board and lodging, exclusive of Munshi[36] and conveyance.’ For this she had been told to expect a bedroom and a bathroom; meals being taken with the other Missionaries. She had also been told that she would require an Ayah and ‘half a tailor.’ ‘I do not want superfluities,’ she wrote; ‘for mine is a modest income, and I should not like to spend it all on myself.’
Modest though it might be, she gave away largely, restricting herself to a limited amount, and practising great economy. After being for a while in India, she seems to have been strongly impressed with a dread of needless luxuries, and to have become eager to set an example of extreme simplicity in the Missionary life. The rigid simplicity which she cultivated was, no doubt, partly a matter of pure economy, that she might have the more to give away,—partly a matter of her innate generosity; but partly also it arose from a deep-rooted desire to remove the reproach, which has of late been often levelled at the ease and luxury, real or supposed, of many Missionaries in India or elsewhere.
It is always a difficult question to decide in such cases what does or does not constitute luxury. For example, the number of servants kept, which often startles an Englishman, is unavoidable to some extent, arising from the very low wages given, and the small amount of work which each servant will undertake. Indian servants sleep often in the verandah or in outside huts, and provide their own food out of their small wages; so, keeping several of them is a very different matter from keeping many English servants. Moreover, an Englishman, still more an Englishwoman, labouring in such a climate as that of India, must as a matter of simple safety have many things which in England would be entirely needless. To walk any distance under the heat of the Indian sun would for the ordinary European often mean death. To ‘rough it,’ to brave the climate, to be reckless of hardships, would in the majority of instances be tantamount to suicide. Yet, on the other hand, it may well be that under the guise of necessity some things not necessary have here and there crept in. A story has been told of an officer, himself a hearty supporter of Missions, who received a very unfavourable impression of one particular Missionary from observing the large amount of comfortable furniture which arrived at the said Missionary’s bungalow, for the latter’s use. The officer felt at once, as he said, that the Missionary ‘was not made of the right stuff.’ He may have judged hastily, and he may have been mistaken. It is by no means impossible that the Missionary may have been ‘of the right stuff,’ despite his superabundance of home-comforts. Nevertheless, such judgments will be passed, and it is well if Missionaries can live a life that shall render them uncalled for.
The more closely modern Missionaries can approximate to Early Church Missionaries, the better. One can hardly picture S. Paul as settling down in a very luxurious bungalow, with a very huge amount of luggage; and though the conditions of life are greatly changed, and allowance has to be made for the change, yet the principle and spirit of Missionary work remain the same. Things harmless may become harmful, if they prove an actual hindrance to success in the work, if they cause an actual lessening of influence. The question should be,—not, How much may I allow myself?—but, How little can I do with? This was the question asked by Miss Tucker, and she set herself bravely, as the years went on, to test and to prove how much or how little was truly needed.
On first arriving she had of course to do simply as she was told,—not always even that, without protest. When the first Sunday came, she was informed that they would all drive to church. Miss Tucker objected. She did not like horses to be made to work on Sunday. She was told that it was a necessity, but she was not convinced. She would put her large thick shawl over her head, and walk. Nothing could hurt her through that shawl! Others had to yield to her will; not without fears of consequences; and Miss Tucker trudged off alone, with the thick shawl well over her head—heroically half-suffocated. When they all came out of church, she would not wait to be driven, but again severely marched off alone. However, the result of this was so bad a headache—though in general she never suffered at all from headache—that she was once and for all convinced. Evidently she could not do in India precisely as in England; and from that time she consented, when it was necessary, to be driven to church like the rest. Of course this question of walking or driving depends largely on the time of year, as well as upon the hour at which the Service is held. As will be seen later, Miss Tucker never lost her habits of good walking until quite late in life; and when the hour of Service or the time of year rendered walking safe, she always preferred it to being driven.
Some friends who knew her best in India have been requested to jot down their recollections, and have most kindly responded. Certain ‘side-lights’ upon what she was will be best thrown by quotations from two of these papers as to the beginning of her Indian career.