“Outside, our problem was how to meet Mrs. Robinson. I heard afterwards that Mr. Baynes was shouting for me from the platform; but he was too late. However, we met Mr. Brown, who undertook to be my guide, while Tom raced down to send up the luggage. We met Mrs. Robinson with Mrs. Frank Smith just outside the house. The Robinsons are such nice people, evidently rich, but so very kind and friendly.
“After tea we drove down to the Colston Hall. Rain was still pouring. As Mr. Baynes wished me to sit on the platform, I had to go to the Committee-room. Being the only lady, I felt rather odd, especially as we filed on to the platform in Exeter Hall style. Colston Hall is an immense place, and was crowded as tight as could be. You will read the speeches, so that I need not report them. The meeting was most solemn, most of all Dr. Maclaren’s address, which I shall never forget. I was so thankful that, though I was tired, for the day had been a very long and exciting one, I was quite well and had no headache.”
The valedictory meetings of the Baptist Missionary Society have long been remarkable for their impressiveness. The meeting at Bristol remains among the most remarkable. I was present, and have no doubt that its influence would count as a constant inspiration in the lives of the departing missionaries. The valedictory address, delivered by Dr. Maclaren, which Mrs. Lewis affirmed that she would never forget, was a great utterance. The speaker had reached, but had not passed, the zenith of his powers. The occasion appealed to him, and commanded all the resources of his genius and intensity. One sentence only I could quote from memory: “If you want to drive a pointed piece of iron through a thick board, the surest way to do it is to heat your skewer.” The pronunciation of the word “skewer” was as extraordinary as the choice of it, and half achieved the miracle of changing a mere vocable into a thing of iron, pointed and red-hot.
I have read over again the printed report of the address, and have felt over again the thrilling force imparted to its periods by “the sound of a voice that is still.” The points were: “Have ever clear before you the ultimate object of your work”; “Be enthusiasts”; “Cherish a boundless hope in the possibilities of your work”; “Live in close communion with your Lord.” The hearing of such an address in an emotional hour is a biographical incident of first-rate importance, and I hold that I shall be minding my own business in reproducing its opening and closing passages.
“Dear Brethren and Sisters, you are here this evening probably never to meet again till you give an account of your stewardship. A momentary association in this hall will be followed by a wide separation to strangely different conditions of work. As Rome’s eagles parted at the city gates to march east, west, north, and south, pushing forward in every quarter the boundaries of the Empire, you go forth to bear the dove of peace farther than Rome’s eagles ever flew....
“And now, dear friends, the languages of many nations have different forms of leave-taking. We would say to you with the Hebrew, ‘Peace be unto you,’ the peace of conscious communion, the calm of a quiet heart, the rest of faith, the tranquillity of submission, be ever yours. We would say with the Greek, ‘Rejoice’ with the joy which may blossom amidst sorrow, like the blue and delicate flowers which blossom on the very edge of the glacier—the joy which Christ Himself has connected with keeping His commandments, and abiding in His love, the joy of the Lord into which faithful followers even here may enter. We would say with the Roman, ‘Be strong,’ strong with the strength of those who wait upon God, and, therefore, mount up with wings as eagles in contemplation, who can run without weariness in occasional spurts of severe effort, and can walk without fainting along the monotonous dusty road of petty duties. We would say in our own familiar English, only venturing to put it in its enlarged and proper form, ‘God be with you!’ May He, whose presence makes the solitary place glad as with a sudden burst of light, be always with you. May He be with you for your wisdom and your success, for your shield and exceeding great reward. We wish you peace, joy, strength. But our highest wish is that which includes them and a whole universe besides: Farewell, and God be with you.”
Mr. Lewis and Miss Thomas were married in Camden Road Baptist Church, on Wednesday, December 1, immediately prior to the opening of the Annual Congo Sale. Under normal circumstances the Sale, which is something of a festival, would have added brightness to the wedding. But the sky was overclouded for Sale and wedding. It had been arranged, most naturally and happily, that the ceremony should be performed by the Rev. Francis Tucker, who had been the bride’s minister from her childhood, and whom she regarded with reverent and filial affection. But when the wedding-day came his eloquent lips had been touched by the great silence, and two days later his coffin was carried down the aisle of the church in which he had ministered for twenty-seven years, on its way to the grave. So it fell to my lot to conduct the marriage service. Of course if I had known that twenty-four years later I should be writing the biography of the bride, I should now be able to supply a reasonably interesting account of an hour so momentous in the life of my friend. I could not know. I have been told that she was married from the house of her sister, Mrs. Percival, but all that I can recall unaided is, that she was “given away” by the Rev. John Jenkyn Brown, of Birmingham, and that Mr. Lewis went away in my overcoat. His case was worse than mine; for whereas in his coat I had room and to spare, in mine he was in straitened circumstances. When he was again capable of observing matters so prosaic, he was prompt to repair the blunder. The consequences were not serious, but rather the reverse, for the humorous reminiscence has many times provoked laughter.
Perhaps it was well that the event should have one touch of humour, for the atmosphere was inevitably sombre. Conscious of my own poverty of remembrance, I consulted a friend who would be likely to help me. She looked up her diary and found the following: “Wedding; Congo Sale; 2.30. The most dismal wedding I was ever at.” I forbore further quest of detail, and make haste to say that if the wedding was “dismal” the union which it celebrated was one of rare and radiant happiness which remained unclouded till its earthly close.
The first two months of 1887 were busy with meetings, journeys, including a tour in South Wales, and the usual necessary preparations for a long stay abroad. On Thursday, March 3rd, a farewell meeting was held in Camden Road Church, and on the following Wednesday, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis sailed from Liverpool for the Congo, their particular station being as yet undetermined.
At Old Calabar they found to their great regret that they had just missed meeting Mr. and Mrs. Grenfell, who had passed them in the ss. Nubia, homeward bound. Victoria, and Bethel, Cameroons, were also visited. Early in May, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis reached Underhill and learned that they were to work in San Salvador. Mrs. Lewis was disappointed in her first impressions of the Congo, the aspect of the country being oppressively barren after the luxuriance of the Cameroons. She and her husband were also saddened by news of more deaths. But they were eager for their work, and on May 10th started inland for San Salvador. The remainder of this chapter will be occupied with Mrs. Lewis’s diary of the journey.