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Title: Henry Martyn Saint and Scholar - First Modern Missionary to the Mohammedans, 1781-1812
Author: Smith, George, 1833-1919
Language: English
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Libraries.)



  HENRY MARTYN


  PRINTED BY
  SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
  LONDON



[Illustration: Henry Martyn. From the portrait in the University
Library. Cambridge.]



  HENRY MARTYN

  _SAINT AND SCHOLAR_

  FIRST MODERN MISSIONARY TO THE MOHAMMEDANS 1781-1812

  BY
  GEORGE SMITH, C.I.E., LL.D.
  AUTHOR OF 'LIFE OF WILLIAM CAREY' 'LIFE OF ALEXANDER DUFF' ETC.


  _Now let me burn out for God_


  _WITH PORTRAIT AND ILLUSTRATIONS_


  LONDON
  THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
  56 PATERNOSTER ROW, 65 ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD AND 164 PICCADILLY
  1892



PREFACE


In the year 1819, John Sargent, Rector of Lavington, published _A
Memoir of the Rev. Henry Martyn_. The book at once became a spiritual
classic. The saint, the scholar, and the missionary, alike found in it
a new inspiration. It ran through ten editions during the writer's
life, and he died when projecting an additional volume of the Journals
and Letters. His son-in-law, S. Wilberforce, afterwards Bishop of
Oxford and of Winchester, accordingly, in 1837 published, in two
volumes, _Journals and Letters of the Rev. Henry Martyn, B.D._, with
an introduction on Sargent's life. Sargent had suppressed what Bishop
Wilberforce describes as 'a great variety of interesting materials'.
Especially in the lifetime of Lydia Grenfell it was thought necessary
to omit the facts which give to Henry Martyn's personality its human
interest and intensify our appreciation of his heroism. On the lady's
death, in 1829, Martyn's letters to her became available, and Bishop
Wilberforce incorporated these in what he described as 'further and
often more continuous selections from the journals and letters of Mr.
Martyn.' But, unhappily, his work does not fully supplement that of
Sargent. The _Journal_ is still mutilated; the _Letters_ are still
imperfect.

Some years ago, on completing the _Life of William Carey_, who had
written that wherever his friend Henry Martyn might go as chaplain the
Church need not send a missionary, I began to prepare a new work on
the first modern apostle to the Mohammedans. I was encouraged by his
grand-nephew, a distinguished mathematician, the late Henry Martyn
Jeffery, F.R.S., who had in 1883 printed _Two Sets of Unpublished
Letters of the Rev. Henry Martyn, B.D., of Truro_. For a time I
stopped the work on learning that he had come into possession of Lydia
Grenfell's papers, and was preparing the book which appeared in 1890,
_Extracts from the Religious Diary of Miss L. Grenfell, of Marazion,
Cornwall_. Except her letters to Henry Martyn, which are not in
existence now, all the desirable materials seemed to be ready.
Meanwhile, the missionary bishop who most resembled Martyn in
character and service, Thomas Valpy French, of Lahore and Muscat, had
written to Canon Edmonds of S. Wilberforce's book as 'a work for whose
reprint I have often pleaded in vain, and for which all that there is
of mission life in our Church would plead, had it not been so long out
of print and out of sight.'

My aim is to set the two autobiographies, unconsciously written in the
Journals and Letters of Henry Martyn and in the Diary of Lydia
Grenfell, in the light of recent knowledge of South Africa and India,
Persia and Turkey, and of Bible work and missionary history in the
lands of which, by his life and by his death, Henry Martyn took
possession for the Master. Bengal chaplain of the East India Company,
he was, above all, a missionary to the two divisions of Islam, in
India and Persia, and in Arabia and Turkey. May this book, written
after years of experience in Bengal, lead many to enter on the
inheritance he has left to the Catholic Church!



  CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                                          PAGE

      I. CORNWALL AND CAMBRIDGE, 1781-1803                            1

     II. LYDIA GRENFELL                                              43

    III. THE NINE MONTHS' VOYAGE--SOUTH AMERICA--SOUTH
         AFRICA, 1805-1806                                          101

     IV. INDIA AND THE EAST IN THE YEAR 1806                        132

      V. CALCUTTA AND SERAMPORE, 1806                               150

     VI. DINAPORE AND PATNA, 1807-1809                              199

    VII. CAWNPORE, 1809-1810                                        257

   VIII. FROM CALCUTTA TO CEYLON, BOMBAY, AND ARABIA                315

     IX. IN PERSIA--BUSHIRE AND SHIRAZ, 1811                        340

      X. IN PERSIA--CONTROVERSIES WITH MOHAMMEDANS, SOOFIS,
         AND JEWS                                                   370

     XI. IN PERSIA--TRANSLATING THE SCRIPTURES                      417

    XII. SHIRAZ TO TABREEZ--THE PERSIAN NEW TESTAMENT               461

   XIII. IN PERSIA AND TURKEY--TABREEZ TO TOKAT AND THE TOMB        492

    XIV. THE TWO RESTING-PLACES--TOKAT AND BREAGE                   515

     XV. BAPTIZED FOR THE DEAD                                      552

         INDEX                                                      573



  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                PAGE

  PORTRAIT--HENRY MARTYN              _Frontispiece_

  ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, IN 1797          13

  SECOND COURT, ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, IN 1803       32

  TRINITY CHURCH, CAMBRIDGE, IN 1803              37

  ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT, AT FULL TIDE               45

  PAGODA, ALDEEN HOUSE                           159

  A BRICK FROM HENRY MARTYN'S PAGODA             161

  SHIRAZ                                         357

  TOKAT IN 1812                                  518

  TOMB OF HENRY MARTYN                           531



  Then came another of priestly garb and mien,
  A young man still wanting the years of Christ,
  But long since with the saints....
  A poet with the contemplative gaze
  And listening ear, but quick of force and eye,
  Who fought the wrong without, the wrong within,
  And, being a pure saint, like those of old,
  Abased himself and all the precious gifts
  God gave him, flinging all before the feet
  Of Him whose name he bore--a fragile form
  Upon whose hectic cheek there burned a flush
  That was not health; who lived as Xavier lived,
  And died like him upon the burning sands,
  Untended, yet whose creed was far from his
  As pole from pole; whom grateful England still
  Loves.

                      The awakened gaze
  Turned wholly from the earth, on things of heaven
  He dwelt both day and night. The thought of God
  Filled him with infinite joy; his craving soul
  Dwelt on Him as a feast; as did the soul
  Of rapt Francesco in his holy cell
  In blest Assisi; and he knew the pain,
  The deep despondence of the saint, the doubt,
  The consciousness of dark offence, the joy
  Of full assurance last, when heaven itself
  Stands open to the ecstasy of faith.

                      The relentless lie
  Of Islam ... he chose to bear, who knew
  How swift the night should fall on him, and burned
  To save one soul alive while yet 'twas day.
  This filled his thoughts, this only, and for this
  On the pure altar of his soul he heaped
  A costlier sacrifice, this youth in years,
  For whom Love called, and loving hands, and hope
  Of childish lives around him, offering these,
  Like all the rest, to God.

                             Yet when his hour
  Was come to leave his England, was it strange
  His weakling life pined for the parting kiss
  Of love and kindred, whom his prescient soul
  Knew he should see no more?

  ... The woman of his love
  Feared to leave all and give her life to his,
  And both to God; his sisters passed away
  To heaven, nor saw him more. There seemed on earth
  Nothing for which to live, except the Faith,
  Only the Faith, the Faith! until his soul
  Wore thin her prison bars, and he was fain
  To rest awhile, or work no more the work
  For which alone he lived.

              _A Vision of Saints._ By LEWIS MORRIS.



HENRY MARTYN



CHAPTER I

CORNWALL AND CAMBRIDGE, 1781-1803


Writing half a century ago, as one who gratefully accepted the guidance
of the Church of England, from the evangelical and philanthropic side of
which he sprang, Sir James Stephen declared the name of Henry Martyn to
be 'in fact the one heroic name which adorns her annals from the days of
Elizabeth to our own'. The past fifty years have seen her annals, in
common with those of other Churches, adorned by many heroic names. These
are as many and as illustrious on the side which has enshrined Henry
Martyn in the new Cathedral of Truro, as amongst the Evangelicals, to
whom in life he belonged. But the influence which streams forth from his
short life and his obscure death is the perpetual heritage of all
English-speaking Christendom, and of the native churches of India,
Arabia, Persia, and Anatolia in all time to come. His _Journal_, even in
the mutilated form published first by his friend Sargent, is one of the
great spiritual autobiographies of Catholic literature. It is placed
beside the _Confessions_ of Augustine and the _Grace Abounding_ of
Bunyan. The _Letters_ are read along with those of Samuel Rutherford and
William Cowper by the most saintly workers, persuasive preachers, and
learned scholars, who, even in these days of searching criticism,
attribute to the young chaplain-missionary their early inspiration and
renewed consecration, even as he traced his to Brainerd, Carey, and
Charles Simeon.

Born in Truro on February 18, 1781, Henry Martyn came from a land the
oldest and most isolated in Great Britain; a Celtic people but
recently transformed from the rudest to the most courteous and
upright; a family created and partly enriched by the great mining
industry; and a church which had been the first, in these far-western
islands, to receive the teaching of the Apostles of Jesus Christ.

The tin found in the lodes and streams of the Devonian Slates of West
Cornwall was the only large source of supply to the world down to
Henry Martyn's time. The granite porphyries which form the Land's End
had come to be worked only a century before that for the 'bunches' of
copper which fill the lines of fault and fissure. It was chiefly from
the deeper lodes of Gwennap, near Truro, that his family had drawn a
competence. The statement of Richard Carew, in his _Survey of
Cornwall_, was true of the dim centuries before Herodotus wrote, that
the 'tynne of the little angle (Cornwall) overfloweth England,
watereth Christendom, and is derived to a great part of the world
besides'.[1] Tyrian and Jew, Greek and Roman, as navigators,
travellers, and capitalists, had in the darkness of prehistoric days
dealings with the land described in an Elizabethan treatise on
Geography as a foreign country on that side of England next to Spain.
London itself is modern compared with the Cornish trade, which in its
latest stage assumed the Latin name _Stannum_, and the almost perfect
economic laws administered by the Lord Warden of the Stannaries since
King John leased the mines to the Jews, and Edward I., as Earl of
Cornwall, established the now vexed 'royalties' by charter. Even in
the century since Henry Martyn's early days, fourteen of the Cornish
mines have yielded a gross return of more than thirteen millions
sterling, of which above one-fifth was clear profit.

Whether the Romans used the Britons in the mines as slaves or not, the
just and democratic system of working them--which was probably due to
the Norman kings, and extorted the admiration of M. Jars, a French
traveller of the generation to which Henry Martyn's father belonged--did
not humanise the population. So rude were their manners that their
heath-covered rocks bore the name of 'West Barbary.' Writing two
centuries before Martyn, Norden described the city of his birth as
remarkable for its neatness, which it still is, but he added, there is
not a town 'more discommendable for the pride of the people.' The
Cornish miner's life is still as short as it is hard and daring, in
spite of his splendid physique and the remarkable health of the women
and children. But the perils of a rock-bound coast, the pursuits of
wrecking and smuggling, added to the dangers of the mines, and all
isolated from the growing civilisation of England, had combined, century
after century, to make Cornwall a byword till John Wesley and George
Whitfield visited it. Then the miner became so changed, not less really
because rapidly, that the feature of the whole people which first and
most continuously strikes a stranger is their grave and yet hearty
politeness. Thomas Carlyle has, in his _Life of Sterling_, pictured the
moral heroism which Methodism, with its 'faith of assurance,' developes
in the ignorant Cornish miner, a faith which, as illustrated by William
Carey and taught by the Church of England, did much to make Henry Martyn
what he became. John Wesley's own description in the year of Henry
Martyn's birth is this: 'It pleased God the seed there sown has produced
an abundant harvest. Indeed, I hardly know any part of the three
kingdoms where there has been a more general change.' The Cornishman
still beguiles the weary hours of his descent of the ladder to his toil
by crooning the hymns of Charles Wesley. The local preacher whose
eloquent earnestness and knowledge of his Bible have delighted the
stranger on Sunday, is found next day two hundred fathoms below the sea,
doing his eight hours' work all wet and grimy and red from the
iron-sand, picking out the tin of Bottallack or the copper of Gwennap.
Long before Henry Martyn knew Simeon he had become unconsciously in some
sense the fruit of the teaching of the Wesleys.

During fifty-five years again and again John Wesley visited Cornwall,
preaching in the open air all over the mining county and in the
fishing hamlets, till two generations were permanently changed. His
favourite centre was Gwennap, which had long been the home of the
Martyn family, a few miles from Truro. There he found his open-air
pulpit and church in the great hollow, ever since known as 'Wesley's
Pit,' where, to this day, thousands crowd every Whit-Monday to
commemorative services. Wesley's published journal, which closes with
October 1790, when Henry Martyn was nearly ten years of age, has more
frequent and always more appreciative references to Gwennap than to
any other town. On July 6, 1745, we find him writing:

    At Gwennap also we found the people in the utmost consternation.
    Word was brought that a great company of tinners, made drunk on
    purpose, were coming to do terrible things--so that abundance of
    people went away. I preached to the rest on 'Love your enemies.'

By 1774 we read 'the glorious congregation was assembled at five in
the amphitheatre at Gwennap.' Next year we find this:

    'At five in the evening in the amphitheatre at Gwennap. I think
    this is the most magnificent spectacle which is to be seen on
    this side heaven. And no music is to be heard upon earth
    comparable to the sound of many thousand voices when they are
    all harmoniously joined together singing "praises to God and the
    Lamb." Four-and-twenty thousand were present, frequently, at
    that spot. And yet all, I was informed, could hear distinctly in
    the fair, calm evening.' Again: 'I think this is my _ne plus
    ultra_. I shall scarce see a larger congregation till we meet in
    the air.'

We are thus introduced to the very spot where Henry Martyn was born:
'About noon I preached in the piazza adjoining to the Coinage Hall in
Truro. I was enabled to speak exceeding plain on "Ye are saved through
faith."' In the evening of the same day Wesley preached in the fishing
village of Megavissey, 'where I saw a very rare thing--men swiftly
increasing in substance, and yet not decreasing in holiness.'

From such a land and such influences sprang the first missionary hero
of the Church of England in modern times. The Martyn family had for
more than a century been known locally as one of skilled miners,
described by their ablest representative in recent times[2] as 'mine
agents or mine captains who filled positions of trust.' Martin Luther
had a similar origin. There is no evidence that any of them went
underground, although that, if true, would justify the romance for
which Martyn's first biographer is responsible. His great-grandfather
was Thomas Martyn, his grandfather was John Martyn of Gwennap
Churchtown, and his grand-uncle was the surveyor, Thomas Martyn
(1695-1751), who published the map of Cornwall described as a marvel
of minute and accurate topography, due to a survey on foot for fifteen
years. Mr. Jeffery quotes from some manuscript notes written by his
father:

    John, an elder brother of Thomas Martyn, was the father of John
    Martyn, who was born at Gwennap Churchtown, and, when young, was
    put as an accountant at Wheal Virgin Mine. He was soon made
    cashier to Ralph Allen Daniell, Esq., of Trelissick. Mr. Martyn
    held one-twenty-fourth of Wheal Unity Mine, where upwards of
    300,000_l._ was divided. He then resided in a house opposite the
    Coinage Hall (now the Cornish Bank), Truro, a little below the
    present Market House. Here Henry Martyn was born February 18,
    1781, and was sent thence to Dr. Cardew's School in 1788.

The new Town Hall stands on the site of the house.

The boy bore a family name which is common in Southwest England, and
which was doubtless derived, in the first instance, from the great
missionary monk of Celtic France, the founder of the Gallic Church,
St. Martin, Bishop of Tours. Born in what is now Lower Hungary, the
son of a pagan soldier of Rome, St. Martin, during his long life
which nearly covered the fourth century, made an impression,
especially on Western or Celtic Christendom, even greater than that of
the Devonshire Winfrith or Boniface on Germany long after him. It was
in the generation after his death, when St. Martin's glory was at its
height, that the Saxon invasion of Britain led to the migration of
British Christians from West and South England to Armorica, which was
thence called Brittany. The intercourse between Cornwall and Britannia
Minor became as close as is now the case between the Celtic districts
of the United Kingdom and North America. Missionaries continually
passed and repassed between them. St. Corentin, consecrated Bishop of
Quimper in Brittany or French Cornwall, by the hands of St. Martin
himself, was sent to Cornwall long before Pope Gregory despatched St.
Augustin to Canterbury, and became a popular Cornish saint after whom
St. Cury's parish is still named. On the other side, the Early British
Church of Cornwall, where we still find Roman Christian inscriptions,
kept up a close fellowship with the Church in Ireland. The earliest
martyrs and hermits of the Church of Cornu-Gallia were companions of
St. Patrick.

Certainly there is no missionary saint in all the history of the
Church of Christ whom, in his character, Henry Martyn so closely
resembled as his namesake, the apostle of the Gallic peoples. In the
pages of the bishop's biographer, Sulpicius Severus, we see the same
self-consecration which has made the _Journal_ of Henry Martyn a
stimulus to the noblest spirits of modern Christendom; the same fiery
zeal, often so excessive as to defeat the Divine mission; the same
soldier-like obedience and humility; the same prayerfulness without
ceasing, and faith in the power of prayer; the same fearlessness in
preaching truth however disagreeable to the luxurious and vicious of
the time; and, above all on the practical side, the same winning
loveableness and self-sacrifice for others which have made the story
of St. Martin dividing his cloak with the beggar second only, in
Mediæval art, to the Gospel records of the Lord's own acts of tender
grace and Divine self-emptying. As we trace, step by step, the
unceasing service of Henry Martyn to men for love of his Master, we
shall find a succession of modern parallels to the act of St. Martin,
who, when a lad of eighteen with his regiment at Amiens, himself
moneyless, answered the appeal of a beggar, shivering at the city
gates in a cruel winter, by drawing his dagger, dividing his military
cloak, and giving half of it to the naked man. If the legend continues
to run, that the boy saw in a dream Christ Himself in the half-cloak
saying to the attendant angels, 'Martin, still a catechumen, has
clothed Me with this garment,' and forthwith sought baptism--that is
only a form of the same spirit which, from the days of Paul to our
own, finds inspiration in the thought that we are compassed about by a
great cloud of witnesses.

Henry Martyn was baptised in the old church of St. Mary, now part of the
unfinished cathedral. He was the third of four children. The eldest, a
half-brother, John, was born fifteen years before him. The second and
fourth were his own sisters, Laura and Sally; the former married Mr.
Curgenven, nephew of the Vicar of Lamorran of that name; the latter
married a Mr. Pearson. Short-lived as Henry himself proved to be, all
three died before him. To both the sisters--and especially to the
younger, who proved to be to him at once sister, mother, and spiritual
guide to Christ--there are frequent allusions in his _Journals and
Letters_. His mother, named Fleming, and from Ilfracombe, died in the
year after his birth, having transmitted her delicate constitution to
her children. It was through his father, as well as younger sister, that
the higher influences were rained on Henry Martyn. In the wayward and
often wilful years before the boy yielded to the power of Christ's
resurrection, the father's gentleness kept him in the right way, from
which any violent opposition would have driven one of proud spirit. A
skilled accountant and practical self-trained mathematician, the father
encouraged in the boy the study of science, and early introduced him to
the great work of Newton. Valuing the higher education as few in England
did at that time, John Martyn ever kept before the lad the prospect of a
University course. Looking back on these days, and especially on his
last visit home before his father's unexpected death, Henry Martyn wrote
when he was eighteen years of age:

    The consummate selfishness and exquisite irritability of my mind
    were displayed in rage, malice, and envy, in pride and
    vain-glory and contempt of all; in the harshest language to my
    sister, and even to my father, if he happened to differ from my
    mind and will. Oh, what an example of patience and mildness was
    he! I love to think of his excellent qualities, and it is
    frequently the anguish of my heart that I ever could be so base
    and wicked as to pain him by the slightest neglect.

Truro was fortunate in its grammar school--'the Eton of Cornwall'--and
in the headmaster of that time, the Rev. Cornelius Cardew, D.D., whose
portrait now adorns the city's council chamber. The visitor who seeks
out the old school in Boscawen Street now finds it converted into the
ware-room of an ironmonger. All around may still be seen the oak
panels on which successive generations of schoolboys cut their names.
A pane of glass on which Henry Martyn scratched his name, with a Greek
quotation and a Hebrew word, probably on his last visit to the spot
before he left England for ever, is reverently preserved in the
muniment room of the corporation buildings. There also are the musty
folios of the dull history and duller divinity which formed the school
library of that uncritical century, but there is no means of tracing
the reading of the boys. Into this once lightsome room, adorned only
by a wood-carving of the galleon which formed the city arms, was the
child Henry Martyn introduced at the age of seven. Dr. Clement
Carlyon, who was one of his fellow-pupils, writes of him as 'a
good-humoured plain little fellow, with red eyelids devoid of
eyelashes'. But we know from Mrs. Sherwood, when she first met him in
India--where his hair, a light brown, was raised from his forehead,
which was a remarkably fine one--that although his features were not
regular, 'the expression was so luminous, so intellectual, so
affectionate, so beaming with Divine charity, as to absorb the
attention of every observer'. His sensitive nature and violent
passionateness when roused, at once marked him out as the victim of the
older boys. In a happy moment Dr. Cardew put 'little Henry Martyn' under
the care of one of them, who became his protector, tutor, and friend,
not only at school but at college, and had an influence on his spiritual
as well as intellectual life next only to that of his father, sister,
and Charles Simeon. That 'upper boy'--named Kempthorne, son of Admiral
Kempthorne, of Helston--delighted to recall to his first biographer,
Sargent, 'the position in which he used to sit, the thankful expression
of his affectionate countenance, when he happened to be helped out of
some difficulty, and a thousand other little incidents of his boyish
days.' This boy-friend 'had often the happiness of rescuing him from the
grasp of oppressors, and has never seen more feeling of gratitude
evinced than was shown by him on those occasions.'

Even at seven Henry's natural cleverness was so apparent that high
expectations of his future were formed. Dr. Cardew wrote of his
proficiency in the classics as exceeding that of most of his
school-fellows, but he was too lively and too careless to apply
himself as some did who distanced him. 'He was of a lively, cheerful
temper, and, as I have been told by those who sat near him, appeared
to be the idlest among them, being frequently known to go up to his
lesson with little or no preparation, as if he had learnt it by
intuition.' The delicacy of his constitution naturally kept him from
joining in the rougher games of his fellows. Such was the impression
made by his progress at school that, when he was fifteen years of age,
not only Dr. Cardew and his father, but many of his father's friends,
urged him to compete for a vacant scholarship of Corpus Christi
College, Oxford. With only a letter to the sub-rector of Exeter College,
the usual Cornish College, the boy found himself in the great University
city. The examiners were divided in opinion as to the result, but a
majority gave it in favour of one with whom Henry Martyn was almost
equal. Had he become a member of that University at fifteen, with
character unformed and knowledge immature or superficial, it is not
likely that Oxford would have gained what, at a riper stage, Cambridge
fell heir to. His own comment, written afterwards like Augustine's in
the _Confessions_, was this: 'The profligate acquaintances I had in
Oxford would have introduced me to scenes of debauchery, in which I
must, in all probability, from my extreme youth, have sunk for ever.' He
returned to school for two years, to extend his knowledge of the
classics. He spent his leisure in shooting, and in reading travels and
Lord Chesterfield's _Letters_. His early private Journal reflects
severely on that time as spent in 'attributing to a want of taste for
mathematics what ought to have been ascribed to idleness; and having his
mind in a roving, dissatisfied, restless condition, seeking his chief
pleasure in reading and human praise.'

[Illustration: ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, IN 1797]

In this spirit he began residence in St. John's College, Cambridge, in
the month of October 1797, as a pensioner or unassisted student. To
that University he was attracted by Kempthorne, who had been his
protector at school, and had just distinguished himself at St. John's,
coming out Senior Wrangler. Alike from the idleness to which he was
tempted by other fellow-students who were new to him, and from the
variety of study with no other motive than to win glory of men, his
friend gradually weaned his fickle and impulsive genius. But for two
years he halted between two opinions. He was ever restless because
ever dissatisfied with himself, and his want of inward peace only
increased the natural irritability of his temper. He indulged in bursts
of passion on slight provocation, and sometimes on none at all, save
that of an uneasy conscience. Like Clive about the same age, Henry
Martyn on one occasion hurled a knife at his friend, Cotterill, who just
escaped, leaving it quivering in the panel of the dining-hall. The
father and younger sister at home prayerfully watched over him, and
by letter sought to guide him. On his periodical visits to Truro he was
able at least to report success in his examinations, and at the close of
1799 he came out first, to his father's delight. The providence of God
had made all things ready for the completion of His eighteen years' work
in the convictions and character of Henry Martyn, on his return to
college. To him, at the opening of the new century, all things became
new.

Cambridge, first of all, had received--unconsciously to its leading
men for a time--that new spirit which has ever since identified its
University with the aggressive missionary philanthropy of the
nineteenth century. For nearly the whole period of Martyn's life, up
to that time, Charles Simeon, the Eton boy, Fellow of King's College,
and Christian gentleman, who had sought the position only that he
might preach Christ after the manner of St. Paul, had, from the pulpit
of Trinity Church, been silently transforming academic life. He had
become the trusted agent of Charles Grant and George Udny, the Bengal
civilians who were ready to establish an eight-fold mission in Bengal
as soon as he could send out the men. Failing to find these, he had
brought about the foundation of the Church Missionary Society on April
12, 1799. Some years before that, Charles Grant exchanged his seat in
the Bengal council for one of the 'chairs' of the Court of Directors.
He became their chairman, and it was to Simeon that he turned for East
India chaplains. Cambridge, even more than London itself, had become
the centre of the spiritual life of the Church of England.

First among the fellow-students of Henry Martyn, though soon to leave
for India when he entered it, was his future friend, Claudius
Buchanan, B.A. of 1796 and Fellow of Queen's College, of which Isaac
Milner was president. Magdalene College--which had sent David Brown to
Calcutta in 1786, to prepare the way for the other four, who are for
ever memorable as 'the Five Chaplains'--had among its students of the
same standing as Martyn, Charles Grant's two distinguished sons, of whom
one became Lord Glenelg and a cabinet minister, and the younger, Robert,
was afterwards Governor of Bombay, the still valued hymnologist, and the
warm friend of Dr. John Wilson. Thomason--seven years older than Martyn,
and induced afterwards, by his example, to become a Bengal chaplain--was
Simeon's curate and substitute in the closing years of the last century,
when to Mr. Thornton of Clapham, who had warned him against preaching
five sermons a week, as casting the net too often to allow time to mend
it, he drew this picture of college life: 'There are reasons for fearing
the mathematical religion which so prevails here. Here, also, is
everything that can contribute to the ease and comfort of life. Whatever
pampers the appetite and administers fuel to sloth and indolence is to
be found in abundance. Nothing is left to want or desire. Here is the
danger; this is the horrible precipice.' Corrie and Dealtry, also of the
Five Chaplains, and afterwards first and second Bishops of Madras, were
of Martyn's Cambridge time, the latter graduating before, and the former
just after him.

Hardly had Henry Martyn returned to college in January 1800 when he
received from his half-brother news of the death of their father, whom
he had just before left 'in great health and spirits.' The first
result was 'consternation,' and then, as he told his sister,

    I was extremely low-spirited, and, like most people, began to
    consider seriously, without any particular determination, that
    invisible world to which he had gone and to which I must one day
    go. As I had no taste at this time for my usual studies, I took
    up my Bible. Nevertheless I often took up other books to engage
    my attention, and should have continued to do so had not
    Kempthorne advised me to make this time an occasion of serious
    reflection. I began with the Acts, as being the most amusing,
    and when I was entertained with the narrative I found myself
    insensibly led to inquire more attentively into the doctrines of
    the Apostles.... On the first night after, I began to pray from
    a precomposed form, in which I thanked God in general for having
    sent Christ into the world. But though I prayed for pardon I had
    little sense of my own sinfulness; nevertheless, I began to
    consider myself a religious man.

The college chapel service at once had a new meaning for the student
whom death had shaken and the Book of the Acts of the Apostles had
awakened. 'The first time after this that I went to chapel I saw, with
some degree of surprise at my former inattention, that in the
Magnificat there was a great degree of joy expressed at the coming of
Christ, which I thought but reasonable.' His friend then lent him
Doddridge's _Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul_, but, because
the first part of that book 'appeared to make religion consist too
much in humiliation, and my proud and wicked heart would not bear to
be brought down into the dust,' he could not bear to read it. 'Soon,
however,' as he afterwards told his sister, who had prayed for this
very thing all her life, as Monica had agonised for Augustine, 'I
began to attend more diligently to the words of our Saviour in the New
Testament, and to devour them with delight. When the offers of mercy
and forgiveness were made so freely, I supplicated to be made partaker
of the covenant of grace with eagerness and hope, and thanks be to the
ever-blessed Trinity for not leaving me without comfort.' The
doctrines of the Apostles, based on the narrative of the Acts, and
confirming the teaching of the family in early youth, were seen to be
in accord with the words of the Master, and thus Henry Martyn started
on the Christian life an evangelical of the Evangelicals. In the
preaching and the personal friendship of the minister of Trinity
Church he found sympathetic guidance, and so 'gradually acquired more
knowledge in divine things.' All the hitherto irregular impulses of
his fervent Celtic nature received the baptism of the Holy Spirit, and
became centred in the living, reigning, personal Christ. All the
restless longings of his soul and his senses found their satisfaction
for ever in the service of Him who had said 'He that loveth his life
shall lose it. If any man serve Me, let him follow Me, and where I am
there shall also My servant be.' All the pride of his genius, his
intellectual ambition, and his love of praise became purged by the
determination thenceforth to know nothing save the Crucified One.

His first temptation and test of honest fitness for such service was
found in the examination for degrees, and especially for the greatest
honour of all, that of Senior Wrangler. If we place his conversion to
Christ at the close of his nineteenth year, we find that the whole of
his twentieth was spent in the necessary preparation for the
competition, and in the accompanying spiritual struggles. It is not
surprising that, when looking back on that year from higher experiences,
he should be severe in his self-examination. But the path of duty
clearly lay in hard and constant study, and not alone in religious
meditation. It was not surprising that the experienced convert should
afterwards pronounce the former worldly, and lament that 'the
intenseness with which I pursued my studies' prevented his growth in
contrition, and in a knowledge of the excellency of Christ. But so
severe a judge as his friend and fellow-student John Sargent, who knew
all the facts, and became not less saintly than himself, declares that
there was no reason, save his own humility, for his suspecting a want of
vitality at least in his spiritual life in this critical year. His
new-found life in Christ, and delight in the Bible, reacted on his whole
nature, elevating it to that degree of spontaneous energy free from all
self-consciousness which is the surest condition, divine and human, of
success. He himself used to tell how, when he entered the Senate House,
the text of a sermon he had recently heard quieted his spirit: 'Seekest
thou great things for thyself? Seek them not, saith the Lord.'

Henry Martyn was not fully twenty years of age when, in January 1801,
he came out Senior Wrangler and first Smith's (mathematical) Prizeman.
His year was one of the most brilliant in the recent history of the
University. Woodall of Pembroke was second. Robert Grant was third,
and Charles Grant (Lord Glenelg) fourth Wrangler. They distanced him
in classics, once his strongest point. But the boy who entered college
believing that geometry was to be learned by committing Euclid[3] to
memory had given the whole strength of his powers during three years
to the college examinations, so as to please his father and win the
applause of his fellows. Until recently it was possible for a student
to enter the University ignorant of mathematics, and to come out
Senior Wrangler, as the late Professor Kelland used to tell his
Edinburgh class. Such was the reverence for Newton that the Leibnizian
methods were not recognised in the University studies till the reform
of the Cambridge course was introduced by Dean Peacock and his
contemporaries. In those earlier days, Dr. Carlyon,[4] who had been
one of his school-fellows, tells us high Wranglers won their places by
correct book-work rapidly produced in oral examination from four set
treatises by Wood and Vince, on optics, mechanics, hydrostatics, and
astronomy; problem papers were answered by the best men. Martyn's
grand-nephew, himself a distinguished mathematician, remarks that he
sprang from a family of calculators, and so had the patience and taste
necessary for mathematical attainments. There is no evidence that he
pursued science even at Cambridge except as a tutor; he does not
appear to have been a mathematical examiner even in his own college.

The truth is seen in his own comment on a success which at once won
for him admiration and deference in circles that could not appreciate
the lofty Christian aims of his life: 'I obtained my highest wishes,
but was surprised to find that I had grasped a shadow.' He was called
to other service, and for that he brought his University triumph with
him to the feet of Christ. He was too cultured, however, to despise
learning or academic reputation, for they might be made weapons for
the Master's use, and we shall find him wielding both alike in home
and foreign missions. His genius and learning found expression in the
study, the translation, and the unceasing application to the
consciences of men, of the Word of God. His early love of the classics
of Greece and Rome prevailed over his later mathematical studies to
make him an ardent philologist, with the promise, had he lived, of
becoming an Orientalist of the type of Sir William Jones. If he was
known in his college as 'the man who had not lost an hour' when
University honours alone were his object, how much would not his
unresting perseverance have accomplished, when directed by the highest
of all motives, had he been spared to the age of William Carey or John
Wilson?

The time had come for the brilliant student to decide on his
profession. The same ambition which had stimulated him to his college
successes, had led him to resolve on studying the law, as the most
lucrative. 'I could not consent to be poor for Christ's sake,' was his
own language at a later period. But Christ himself had changed all
that, as effectually as when the young lawyer Saul was stricken down
after the martyr testimony of Stephen. The year 1801 was to him one of
comparative solitude, both in Cornwall and at the University, where
he cultivated the fruitful grace of meditation, learning to know and
to master himself, as he came to know more and more intimately, and to
submit himself to, Christ Jesus. He was admitted to the inner circle
of Simeon's friends, and to unreserved intercourse with men of his own
age who had come to Christ before him. Especially was he drawn to John
Sargent, one year his senior, who was about to leave the university
for the Temple, that he might by the study of law prepare himself to
administer worthily the family estate to which he was to succeed. His
son-in-law, the late Bishop S. Wilberforce, has left us a charming
picture[5] of this saintly man, of whom Martyn wrote, even at college,
'Sargent seems to be outstripping us all.' While Simeon ever, by his
counsels and his example, impressed on the choice youth whom he
gathered around him the attractiveness of the Christian ministry,[6]
Sargent bewailed that only a painful sense of duty to others kept him
from it, and in a few years he succeeded in entering its consecrated
ranks. Among such friends, and with his own heart growing in the
experience of the power of the Holy Spirit, Henry Martyn was
constrained, notwithstanding his new humbleness of mind, to hear and
obey the divine call. He who had received such mercy must tell it
abroad; he who had known such love must bring others to share the
sweetness. Hence he writes to his sister:

    When we consider the misery and darkness of the unregenerate
    world, oh! with how much reason shall we burst out into
    thanksgiving to God, who has called us in His mercy through
    Christ Jesus! What are we, that we should thus be made objects
    of distinguishing grace! Who, then, that reflects upon the rock
    from which he was hewn, but must rejoice to give himself
    entirely and without reserve to God, to be sanctified by His
    Spirit. The soul that has truly experienced the love of God,
    will not stay meanly inquiring how much he shall do, and thus
    limit his service, but will be earnestly seeking more and more
    to know the will of our Heavenly Father, and that he may be
    enabled to do it. Oh, may we both be thus minded! may we
    experience Christ to be our all in all, not only as our
    Redeemer, but also as the fountain of grace. Those passages of
    the Word of God which you have quoted on this head, are indeed
    awakening; may they teach us to breathe after holiness, to be
    more and more dead to the world, and alive unto God, through
    Jesus Christ. We are as lights in the world; how needful then
    that our tempers and lives should manifest our high and heavenly
    calling! Let us, as we do, provoke one another to good works,
    not doubting that God will bless our feeble endeavours to His
    glory.

The next year, 1802, saw Martyn Fellow of his College and the winner
of the first University prize for a Latin essay, open to those who had
just taken the Bachelor of Arts degree. It ended in his determination
to offer himself to the Church Missionary Society. He had no sooner
resolved to be a minister of Christ than he began such home mission
work as lay to his hands among his fellow members of the University,
and in the city where, at a recent period, one who closely resembled
him in some points, Ion Keith-Falconer, laboured. When ministering to
a dying man he found that the daughters had removed to another house,
where they were cheerful, and one of the students was reading a play
to them. 'A play! when their father was lying in the agonies of death!
What a species of consolation! I rebuked him so sharply, and, I am
afraid, so intemperately, that a quarrel will perhaps ensue.' This is
the first of those cases in which the impulsively faithful Christian,
testifying for his Master, often roused hatred to himself. But the
student afterwards thanked him for his words, became a new man, and
went out to India, where he laboured for a time by his side. After a
summer tour--during which he walked to Liverpool, and then through
Wales, ascending Snowdon--Henry Martyn found himself in the old home
in Truro, then occupied by his brother. From the noise of a large
family he moved to Woodbury: 'With my brother-in-law[7] I passed some
of the sweetest moments in my life. The deep solitude of the place
favoured meditation; and the romantic scenery around supplied great
external sources of pleasure.'

Along the beautiful coast of Cornwall and Devon there is no spot more
beautiful than Woodbury. It is henceforth sacred as Moulton in Carey's
life, and St. Andrews in Alexander Duff's, for there Henry Martyn
wrestled out his deliberate dedication to the service of Christ in
India and Persia. The Fal river is there just beginning to open out
into the lovely estuary which, down almost to Falmouth town and
Carrick Road, between Pendennis and St. Mawes, is clothed on either
side with umbrageous woods. On the left shore, after leaving the point
from which is the best view of Truro and its cathedral, now known as
the Queen's View, there is Malpas, and further on are the sylvan
glories of Tregothnan. On the right shore, sloping down to the
ever-moving tide, are the oaks, ilexes, and firs which inclose
Woodbury, recently rebuilt. There the Cambridge scholar of twenty-one
roamed and read his Bible (especially Isaiah); 'and from this I
derived great spirituality of mind compared with what I had known
before.' He returned to Cambridge and its tutorial duties, ready to
become Simeon's curate, and ultimately to go abroad when the definite
call should come. In the first conversation which he had with him,
Simeon, who had been reading the last number of the _Periodical
Accounts_ from Serampore, drew attention to the results of William
Carey's work, in the first nine years of his pioneering, as showing
what a single missionary could accomplish. From this time, in his
letters and journals, we find all his thoughts and reading, when
alone, revolving around the call to the East.

    _1803, January 12_ to _19_.--Reading Lowth on Isaiah--Acts--and
    abridged Bishop Hopkins' first sermon on Regeneration. On the
    19th called on Simeon, from whom I found that I was to go to the
    East Indies, not as a missionary, but in some superior capacity;
    to be stationed at Calcutta, or possibly at Ceylon. This
    prospect of this world's happiness gave me rather pain than
    pleasure, which convinced me that I had before been running away
    from the world, rather than overcoming it. During the whole
    course of the day, I was more worldly than for some time past,
    unsettled and dissatisfied. In conversation, therefore, I found
    great levity, pride, and bitterness. What a sink of corruption
    is this heart, and yet I can go on from day to day in
    self-seeking and self-pleasing! Lord, shew me myself, nothing
    but 'wounds and bruises, and putrefying sores,' and teach me to
    live by faith on Christ my all.

                                       St. John's, January 17, 1803.

    My dear Sargent,--G. and H. seem to disapprove of my project
    much; and on this account I have been rather discouraged of
    late, though not in any degree convinced. It would be more
    satisfactory to go out with the full approbation of my friends,
    but it is in vain to attempt to please man. In doubtful cases,
    we are to use the opinions of others no further than as means of
    directing our own judgment. My sister has also objected to it,
    on the score of my deficiency in that deep and solid experience
    necessary in a missionary.

    _February 4._--Read Lowth in the afternoon, till I was quite
    tired. Endeavoured to think of Job xiv. 14, and to have solemn
    thoughts of death, but could not find them before my pupil came,
    to whom I explained justification by faith, as he had ridiculed
    Methodism. But talk upon what I will, or with whom I will,
    conversation leaves me ruffled and discomposed. From what does
    this arise? From a want of the sense of God's presence when I am
    with others.

    _February 6._--Read the Scriptures, between breakfast and
    church, in a very wandering and unsettled manner, and in my walk
    was very weak in desires after God. As I found myself about the
    middle of the day full of pride and formality, I found some
    relief in prayer. Sat with H. and D. after dinner, till three,
    but though silent, was destitute of humility. Read some of S.
    Pearce's[8] life, and was much interested by his account of the
    workings of his mind on the subject of his mission. Saw reason
    to be thankful that I had no such tender ties to confine me at
    home, as he seemed to have; and to be amazed at myself, in not
    making it a more frequent object of reflection, and yet to
    praise God for calling me to minister in the glorious work of
    the conversion of the Gentiles.

    _March 27._--The lectures in chemistry and anatomy I was much
    engaged with, without receiving much instruction. A violent cold
    and cough led me to prepare myself for an inquiry into my views
    of death. I was enabled to rest composed on the Rock of Ages.
    Oh, what mercy shewn to the chief of sinners.

    _April 22._--Was ashamed to confess to ---- that I was to be Mr.
    Simeon's curate, a despicable fear of man from which I vainly
    thought myself free. He, however, asked me if I was not to be,
    and so I was obliged to tell him. Jer. i. 17.

    _May 8._--Expressed myself contemptuously of ----, who preached
    at St. Mary's. Such manifestations of arrogance which embody, as
    it were, my inward pride, wound my spirit inexpressibly, not to
    contrition, but to a sullen sense of guilt. Read Second Epistle
    to Timothy. I prayed with some earnestness.

    _June 13_ to _24_.--Passed in tolerable comfort upon the whole;
    though I could on no day say my walk had been close with God.
    Read Sir G. Staunton's _Embassy to China_, and was convinced of
    the propriety of being sent thither. But I have still the spirit
    of worldly men when I read worldly books. I felt more curiosity
    about the manners of this people than love and pity towards
    their souls.

                                          St. John's, June 30, 1803.

    Dear Sargent,--May you, as long as you shall give me your
    acquaintance, direct me to the casting down of all high
    imaginations. Possibly it may be a cross to you to tell me or
    any one of his faults. But should I be at last a castaway, or at
    least dishonour Christ through some sin, which for want of
    faithful admonition remained unmortified, how bitter would be
    your reflections! I conjure you, therefore, my dear friend, as
    you value the good of the souls to whom I am to preach, and my
    own eternal interests, that you tell me what you think to be, in
    my life, spirit, or temper, not according to the will of God my
    Saviour. D. has heard about a religious young man of seventeen,
    who wants to come to College, but has only 20_l._ a year. He is
    very clever, and from the perusal of some poems which he has
    published, I am much interested about him. His name is H.K.
    White.

    _July 17._--Rose at half-past five, and walked a little before
    chapel in happy frame of mind; but the sunshine was presently
    overcast by my carelessly neglecting to speak for the good of
    two men, when I had an opportunity. The pain was, moreover,
    increased by the prospect of the incessant watchfulness for
    opportunities I should use; nevertheless, resolved that I would
    do so through grace. The dreadful act of disobeying God, and the
    baseness of being unwilling to incur the contempt of men, for
    the sake of the Lord Jesus, who had done so much for me, and the
    cruelty of not longing to save souls, were the considerations
    that pressed on my mind.

    _July 18_ to _30_.--Gained no ground in all this time; stayed a
    few days at Shelford, but was much distracted and unsettled for
    want of solitude. Felt the passion of envy rankle in my bosom on
    a certain occasion. Seldom enjoyed peace, but was much under the
    power of corruption. Read Butler's _Analogy_; Jon. Edwards _On
    the Affections_; in great hopes that this book will be of
    essential use to me.

    _September 10._--Was most deeply affected with reading the
    account of the apostasy of Lewis and Broomhall, in the
    transactions of the Missionary Society. When I first came to the
    account of the awful death of the former, I cannot describe the
    sense I had of the reality of religion,--that there is a God who
    testifies His hatred of sin; 'my flesh trembled for fear of His
    judgments.' Afterwards, coming to the account of Broomhall's
    sudden turn to Deism, I could not help even bursting into tears
    of anxiety and terror at my own extreme danger; because I have
    often thought, that if I ever should make shipwreck, it would be
    on the rocks of sensuality or infidelity. The hollowness of
    Broomhall's arguments was so apparent, that I could only
    attribute his fall to the neglect of inquiring after the
    rational foundation of his faith.

    _September 12._--Read some of the minor prophets, and Greek
    Testament, and the number of the _Missionary Transactions_. H.
    drank tea with me in the evening. I read some of the missionary
    accounts. The account of their sufferings and diligence could
    not but tend to lower my notions of myself. I was almost ashamed
    at my having such comforts about me, and at my own
    unprofitableness.

    _September 13._--Received a letter from my sister, in which she
    expressed her opinion of my unfitness for the work of a
    missionary. My want of Christian experience filled me with many
    disquieting doubts, and this thought troubled me among many
    others, as it has often done: 'I am not only not so holy as I
    ought, but I do not strive to have my soul wrought up to the
    highest pitch of devotion every moment.'

    _September 17._--Read Dr. Vanderkemp's mission to Kafraria. What
    a man! In heaven I shall think myself well off, if I obtain but
    the lowest seat among such, though now I am fond of giving
    myself a high one.

                                     St. John's, September 29, 1803.

    How long it seems since I heard from you, my dear Sargent. My
    studies during the last three months have been Hebrew, Greek
    Testament, Jon. Edwards _On Original Sin_, and _On the
    Affections_, and Bishop Hopkins,--your favourite and mine. Never
    did I read such energetic language, such powerful appeals to the
    conscience. Somehow or other he is able to excite most constant
    interest, say what he will. I have been lately reading the first
    volume of the _Reports_ of the Missionary Society, who sent out
    so many to Otaheite and the southern parts of Africa. You would
    find the account of Dr. Vanderkemp's mission into Kafraria
    infinitely entertaining. It appeared so much so to me, that I
    could read nothing else while it lasted. Respecting my own
    concerns in this way, no material change has taken place, either
    externally or internally, except that my sister thinks me
    unqualified, through want of religious experience, and that I
    find greater pleasure at the prospect of it. I am conscious,
    however, of viewing things too much on the bright side, and
    think more readily of the happiness of seeing the desert rejoice
    and blossom as the rose, than of pain, and fatigue, and crosses,
    and disappointments. However it shall be determined for me, it
    is my duty to crush the risings of self-will, so as to be
    cheerfully prepared to go or stay.

    _October 1._--In the afternoon read in Law's _Serious Call_, the
    chapter on 'Resignation,' and prayed for it, according to his
    direction. I rather think a regular distribution of the day for
    prayer, to obtain the three great graces of humility, love, and
    resignation, would be far the best way to grow in them. The
    music at chapel led my thoughts to heaven, and I went cheerfully
    to Mrs. S.H. drank tea with me afterwards. As there was in the
    _Christian Observer_ something of my own, the first which ever
    appeared in print, I felt myself going off to vanity and levity.

[Illustration: SECOND COURT, ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, 1803]

    _October 9._--Rose at six, which is earlier than of late, and
    passed the whole morning in great tranquillity. I prayed to be
    sent out to China, and rejoiced in the prospect of the glorious
    day when Christ shall be glorified on earth. At chapel the music
    of the chant and anthem seemed to be in my ears as the sounds of
    heaven, particularly the anthem, 1 Chron. xxix. 10. But these
    joys, alas! partake much of the flesh in their transitory
    nature. At chapel I wished to return to my rooms to read the
    song of Moses the servant of God, &c. in the Revelation, but
    when I came to it I found little pleasure. The sound of the
    music had ceased, and with it my joy, and nothing remained but
    evil temper, darkness, and unbelief. All this time I had
    forgotten what it is to be a poor humble soul. I had floated off
    the Rock of Ages into the deep, where I was beginning to sink,
    had not the Saviour stretched out His hand, and said to me, 'It
    is I!' Let me never be cheated out of my dependence on Him, nor
    ever forget my need of Him.

    _October 12._--Reading Paley's _Evidences_. Had my pride
    deeply wounded to-day, and perceived that I was far from
    humility. Great bitterness and dislike arose in my mind against
    the man who had been the unconscious cause of it. Oh, may I
    learn daily my hidden evils, and loathe myself for my secret
    abominations! Prayed for the man, and found my affections
    return.

    _October 19._--I wished to have made my approaching ordination
    to the ministry a more leading object of my prayers. For two or
    three days I have been reading some of St. Augustine's
    _Meditations_, and was delighted with the hope of enjoying such
    communion with God as this holy man. Blessed be God! nothing
    prevents, no earthly business, no earthly love can rightfully
    intrude to claim my thoughts, for I have professedly resigned
    them all. My mind still continues in a joyous and happy state,
    though at intervals, through want of humility, my confidence
    seems vain.

    _October 20._--This morning was almost all lost, by friends
    coming in. At noon I read the fortieth chapter of Isaiah. Amidst
    the bustle of common life, how frequently has my heart been
    refreshed by the descriptions of the future glory of the Church,
    and the happiness of man hereafter!

    _November 13._--I longed to draw very near to God, to pray Him
    that He would give me the Spirit of wisdom and revelation. I
    thought of David Brainerd, and ardently desired his devotedness
    to God and holy breathings of soul.

When a Fellow of St. John's, Henry Martyn occupied the three rooms in
the highest storey of E block, entered from the right-hand corner of
the Second Court before passing through the gateway into the Third
Court. The Court is that pronounced by Ruskin the finest in the
University, because of the beautiful plum-red hue of the old brick,
going back to 1595, and the perfect architecture. From the same stair
the fine College Library is entered. The low roof was formed of reed,
instead of lath, and plaster, down to a very recent date. On one
occasion, while the outer roof was being repaired, the foot of a
workman suddenly pushed through the frail inner ceiling above the
study table, an incident which has enabled their present occupant[9]
to identify the rooms. Here Martyn studied, and taught, and prayed,
while hour after hour and quarter after quarter, from the spire of St.
Clement's on the one side, and the tower of Trinity College on the
other, the flight of time was chimed forth. When, a generation after,
Alexander Duff visited Charles Simeon and his successor, Carus, and
expressed surprise that so few Cambridge men had, by 1836, given
themselves to foreign missions, Carus pointed to the exquisite beauty
of the Cam, as it winds between Trinity and St. John's, as one
explanation of the fact. Both forgot Henry Martyn, whose Cornish
temperament was most susceptible to the seductive influence, and whose
academic triumphs might have made the ideal life of a Fellow of St.
John's an overpowering temptation. As we stand in these hallowed
rooms, or wander through the four courts, and in the perfect gardens,
or recall the low chapel--which has given place to Sir Gilbert
Scott's, with a frescoed figure of Henry Martyn on its roof--we can
realise the power of the motive that sent him forth to Dinapore and
Cawnpore, Shiraz and Tokat.

Samuel Pearce--the 'seraphic' preacher of Birmingham, whom a weak
body, like Martyn's, alone prevented from joining his beloved Carey at
Serampore; Vanderkemp, the Dutch physician, who had given up all for
the good of the Kafirs, and whom he was soon to see in the midst of
his converts; David Brainerd, also like himself in the shortness and
saintliness of his career; the transactions of the London Missionary
Society; the latest works on the East; and the experimental divinity
of Augustine, Jonathan Edwards, and Law, with the writings of Bishops
Butler and Hopkins, and Dr. Paley--these were the men and the books he
used to train his spirit for the work of the ministry abroad, when he
had fed it with the words of Jesus Christ, Isaiah, and Paul. He thus
describes his examination for Deacon's orders, and his ordination by
the Bishop of Ely on the title of his Fellowship, after which he
became Mr. Simeon's curate, and took charge of the neighbouring small
parish of Lolworth.

    _1803, October 22._--Went in a gig to Ely with B. Having had no
    time for morning prayer, my conversation was poor. At chapel, I
    felt great shame at having come so confidently to offer myself
    for the ministry of the Lord Jesus Christ, with so much
    ignorance and unholiness, and I thought it would be but just if
    I were sent off with ignominy. Dr. M., the examining chaplain,
    set me to construe the eleventh chapter of Matthew: Grotius: To
    turn the first article into Latin: To prove the being of a God,
    His infinite power and goodness: To give the evidence of
    Christianity to Jews and heathens: To shew the importance of the
    miracle of the resurrection of Christ. He asked an account,
    also, of the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Scribes, the places of
    the worship amongst the Jews, &c. After leaving the palace I was
    in very low spirits. I had now nothing to think of but the
    weight and difficulty of the work which lay before me, which
    never appeared so great at a distance. At dinner the
    conversation was frivolous. After tea I was left alone with one
    of the deacons, to whom I talked seriously, and desired him to
    read the Ordination Service, at which he was much affected.
    Retired to my room early, and besought God to give me a right
    and affecting sense of things. I seemed to pray a long time in
    vain, so dark and distracted was my mind. At length I began to
    feel the shameful and cruel neglect and unconcern for the honour
    of God, and the souls of my brethren, in having trifled with men
    whom I feared were about to 'lie to the Holy Ghost.' So I went
    to them again, resolving to lay hold on any opportunity, but
    found none to do anything effectually. Went to bed with a
    painful sense of my hardness of heart and unsuitable preparation
    for the ministry.

    _October 23._--Rose early, and prayed, not without distraction.
    I then walked, but could not acquire a right and happy sense of
    God's mercy in calling me to the ministry; but was melancholy at
    the labours that awaited me. On returning, I met one of the
    deacons, to whom I spoke on the solemn occasion, but he seemed
    incapable of entertaining a serious thought. At half-past ten we
    went to the cathedral. During the ordination and sacramental
    services I sought in vain for a humble heavenly mind. The
    outward show which tended to inspire solemnity, affected me more
    than the faith of Christ's presence, giving me the commission to
    preach the gospel. May I have grace to fulfil those promises I
    made before God and the people! After dinner, walked with great
    rapidity to Cambridge. I went straight to Trinity Church, where
    my old vanities assailed my soul. How monstrous and horrible did
    they appear in me, now that I was a minister of holy things! I
    could scarcely believe that so sacred an office should be held
    by one who had such a heart within. B. sat with me in the
    evening, but I was not humbled; for I had not been near to God
    to obtain the grace of contrition. On going to prayer at night,
    I was seized with a most violent sickness. In the pain and
    disorder of my body, I could but commend myself faintly to God's
    mercy in Jesus Christ.

[Illustration: TRINITY CHURCH IN 1803.]

    _October 24_ to _29_.--Busily employed in writing a sermon, and
    from the slow advances I made in it, was in general very
    melancholy. I read on the Thursday night for the first time in
    Trinity Church.

    _October 30._--Rose with a heavy heart, and my head empty, from
    having read so little of the Scriptures this last week. After
    church, sat with ---- two hours conversing about the missionary
    plan. He considered my ideas on the subject to be enthusiastic,
    and told me that I had neither strength of body nor mind for the
    work. This latter defect I did not at all like; it was galling
    to the pride of my heart, and I went to bed hurt; yet thankful
    to God for sending me one who would tell me the truth.

    _December 3._--Employed all day in writing sermon. The incessant
    employment of my thoughts about the necessary business of my
    life, parishes, pupils, sermons, sick, &c., leave far too little
    time for my private meditations; so that I know little of God
    and my soul. Resolved I would gain some hours from my usual
    sleep, if there were no other way; but failed this morning in
    consequence of sitting up so late.

    _December 4._--Called at two or three of the parishioners'
    houses, and found them universally in the most profound state of
    ignorance and stupidity. On my road home could not perceive that
    men who have any little knowledge should have anything to do but
    instruct their wretched fellow-creatures. The pursuits of
    science, and all the vain and glittering employments of men,
    seemed a cruel withholding from their perishing brethren of that
    time and exertion which might save their souls.

    _December 22._--Married ----. How satisfactory is it to
    administer the ordinance of matrimony, where the couple are
    pious! I felt thankful that I was delivered from all desires of
    the comforts of the married life. With the most desirable
    partner, and every prospect of happiness, I would prefer a
    single life, in which there are so much greater opportunities
    for heavenly-mindedness.

When appointed classical examiner of his college at this time, he
jealously examined himself:

    Did I delight in reading of the retreat of the ten thousand
    Greeks; and shall not my soul glory in the knowledge of God, who
    created the Greeks, and the vast countries over which they
    passed! I examined in Butler's _Analogy_ and in Xenophon: how
    much pride and ostentatious display of learning was visible in
    my conduct--how that detestable spirit follows me, whatever I
    do!

He opened the year 1804, after preaching in Trinity Church, and
visiting two men whom he exhorted to think on their ways, with a
review of his new-found life.

    Nevertheless, I judge that I have grown in grace in the course
    of the last year; for the bent of my desires is towards God more
    than when I thought I was going out as a missionary, though
    vastly less than I expected it would have been by this time.

This year he received into his fellowship the young poet, Henry Kirke
White, whom Wilberforce had, at Simeon's request, sent to St. John's.
Southey declares that Chatterton is the only youthful poet whom Kirke
White does not leave far behind him. 'The Star of Bethlehem' is
certainly a hymn that will live. The sickly youth followed close in
Martyn's steps, becoming the first man of his year, but the effort
carried him off almost before his friend reached India.

Had Martyn been of canonical age for ordination at the close of 1803,
there can be little doubt that he would at once have been sent out by
the Church Missionary Society, which could find only German Lutherans
as its agents abroad, until 1813, when another Fellow of St. John's,
and a Wrangler, the Rev. William Jowett, offered his services, and
was stationed at Malta. But when ordained he lost the little that he
had inherited from his father, and saw his younger sister also without
resources. There was a tradition in the family of his half-brother
John, that Henry and his sisters litigated with him, and farther
lessened the patrimony. However that may have been, while in India
Henry set apart the proceeds of his Fellowship at St. John's for the
maintenance of his brother's family, and bequeathed all he had to his
children. Mr. H. Thornton, of Clapham, was executor, and duly carried
out his instructions, starting the nephews in life. Another incident
at this time foreshadows the self-denial of his Indian career. By
opening the door of his room suddenly he had disfigured the face of
his Cambridge landlady, whose husband was a clergyman. He left to her
the interest of 1,000_l._ as an amend, and she enjoyed this annuity
through a very long life.

The Senior Wrangler was not allowed to preach in the church where he
had been baptised, nor in any church of his native county, save in his
brother-in-law's. On August 8, 1804, he thus wrote to his friend 'R.
Boys, Esq., Bene't Coll., Cambridge,' after preaching at Plymouth for
his cousin:

    The following Sunday it was not permitted me to occupy the
    pulpit of my native town, but in a neighbouring church I was
    allowed to testify the Gospel of the grace of God. But that one
    sermon was enough. The clergy seem to have united to exclude me
    from their churches, so that I must now be contented with my
    brother-in-law's two little churches about five miles from
    Truro. The objection is that 'Mr. Martyn is a Calvinist preacher
    in the dissenting way, &c.' My old schoolmaster, who has always
    hitherto been proud of his pupil, has offered his services for
    any time to a curate near this place, rather than, as he said,
    he should apply to me for assistance.

It is interesting to remember, remarks Mr. Moule, who has published
this letter for the first time, that 'always now, as the anniversary
of Martyn's death recurs, a sermon is preached in the cathedral of
Truro, in which the great work of Missions is set forth, and his
illustrious share in it commemorated.'

As confidential adviser of Charles Grant in the Court of Directors, in
the appointment of chaplains, Simeon always sought to attract the best
of his curates to that career, and it would appear from the _Journal_
that so early as the beginning of 1803 he had hinted at this to
Martyn. Now the way was plain. Martyn could no longer support himself
as one of those volunteer missionaries whose services the two great
missionary societies of the Church of England have always been happy
to enjoy, nor could he relieve his sister out of the subsistence
allowance of a missionary. Mr. Grant's offer of a Bengal chaplaincy
seemed to come to him as the solution. But a new element had entered
into his life, second only to his spiritual loyalty. He had learned to
love Lydia Grenfell.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See the _Statistical Society's Journal_, September, 1888, for
invaluable notes on the 'System of Work and Wages in the Cornish
Mines,' by L.L. Price, M.A., of Oriel College, Oxford.

[2] The late Henry Martyn Jeffery, M.A., F.R.S., in 1883.

[3] Rev. Henry Bailey, D.D., Canon of Canterbury, supplies us with
this story from the lips of the late Rev. T.H. Shepherd, who was the
last surviving Canon of the Collegiate Church in Southwell:--

'Henry Martyn had just entered the College as a Freshman under the
Rev. Mr. Catton. I was the year above him, _i.e._ second year man; and
Mr. Catton sent for me to his rooms, telling me of Martyn, as a quiet
youth, with some knowledge of classics, but utterly unable as it
seemed to make anything of even the First Proposition of Euclid, and
desiring me to have him into my rooms, and see what I could do for him
in this matter. Accordingly, we spent some time together, but all my
efforts appeared to be in vain; and Martyn, in sheer despair, was
about to make his way to the coach office, and take his place the
following day back to Truro, his native town. I urged him not to be so
precipitate, but to come to me the next day, and have another trial
with Euclid. After some time light seemed suddenly to flash upon his
mind, with clear comprehension of the hitherto dark problem, and he
threw up his cap for joy at his _Eureka_. The Second Proposition was
soon taken, and with perfect success; but in truth his progress was
such and so rapid, that he distanced every one in his year, and, as
everyone knows, became Senior Wrangler.'

[4] _Early Years and Late Reflections_, vol. iii. p. 5.

[5] Introduction to _Journals and Letters of Henry Martyn_, 1837.

[6] See the delightful _Charles Simeon_, by H.C.G. Moule, M.A. (1892),
published since this was written.

[7] Rev. Mr. Curgenven, curate of Kenwyn and Kea.

[8] William Carey's most intimate friend. See p. 46 of _Life of
William Carey, D.D._, 2nd ed. (John Murray).

[9] Rev. A. Caldecott, M.A., Fellow and Dean of St. John's College.



CHAPTER II

LYDIA GRENFELL


Twenty-six miles south-west of Truro, and now the last railway station
before Penzance is reached for the Land's End, is Marazion, the
oldest, the warmest, and long the dullest, of English towns. This was
the home of Lydia Grenfell; this was the scene of Henry Martyn's
wooing. Running out from the town is a natural causeway, uncovered at
low tide, and leading to the most romantic spot on a romantic
coast--the granite rock known to the Greek geographers as Ictis, and
to English legend and history as St. Michael's Mount. Here it was that
Jack slew the giant, Cormoran; here that the Phœnician, and possibly
Israelite, traffickers found the harbour, and in the town the market,
where they bought their copper and their tin; here that St. Michael
appeared, as on the larger rock off Normandy, to the earliest
Christian hermits, followed by the Benedictines; and here that King John
made a fortress which both sides in the Great Rebellion held and took
alternately. Since that time, possessed by the St. Aubyn family, and
open to all the world, St. Michael's Mount has been a unique retreat in
which castle and chapel, cemetery and garden, unite peacefully, to link
the restlessness of the nineteenth century with the hermit saintliness
and angel-ophanies of the fifth. It was the last spot of English, of
Cornish, ground seen by Henry Martyn, and he knew that the windows of
his beloved looked upon its grassy castellated height.

In the one ascending street of Marazion on the shore, there still
stands the plain substantial Grenfell House, now boarded up and
falling to ruin for want of the freehold tenure. Opposite it is the
parish church, now on the site of the old chapel of ease of the
neighbouring St. Hilary, which Lydia Grenfell deserted for the then
warmer evangelical service of the little Wesleyan chapel. That is
hidden in a lane, and is still the same as when she worshipped there,
or only a little enlarged. The Grenvilles, Grenviles, or Grenfells,
were long a leading family connected with Cornwall as copper-buyers
and smelters. One, Pascoe Grenfell, was a Governor of the Bank of
England. Mr. Pascoe Grenfell, of Marazion (1729-1810), Commissary to
the States of Holland, was father (1) of Emma, who became wife of
Martyn's cousin, Rev. T. Martyn Hitchins; (2) of Lydia Grenfell; and
(3) of Pascoe Grenfell, D.C.L., M.P. for Marlow and Penryn. This
Pascoe's four daughters--Lydia Grenfell's nieces--each became the wife
of a remarkable man. The eldest, in 1825, married Mr. Carr Glyn, M.P.
for Kendal, and the first Lord Wolverton; the second, Lord Sidney
Godolphin Osborne; the third, Mr. James Anthony Froude; and the
fourth, Charles Kingsley.

[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT AT FULL TIDE.]

Lydia Grenfell, born in 1775, died in her sister's house, the old
Vicarage of Breage, in 1829. She was thus six years older than Henry
Martyn. As the sister of his cousin by marriage he must have known of
her early. He evidently did not know, till it was too late, that she
had been engaged to a Mr. Samuel John, solicitor, of Penzance, who was
unworthy of her and married someone else. This engagement and its
issue seem to have weighed on her very sensitive conscience; it became
to her very much what Henry Martyn's hopeless love for her proved to
be to himself. In the years from October 19, 1801, to 1826, she kept a
diary not less devout, but far more morbid than his own. The two
journals form, where they meet, a pathetic, even tragic, tale of
affection, human and divine. Her bulky memoranda[10] contain few
incidents of interest, rather severe introspections, incessant
communings and heart-searchings, abstracts of sermons, records of
visits to the sick and poor, but also a valuable residuum by which her
relations with Martyn can be established beyond controversy. They show
that she was as saintly as himself. She weighed every thought, every
action, as in the immediate presence of God.

When Henry Martyn, at nineteen, entered on the higher life, he must
have known Lydia Grenfell as the sister of Mrs. T.M. Hitchins, the
cousin with whom his correspondence shows him to have been on most
intimate, and even affectionate, terms. At that time the difference of
age would seem slight; her it would affect little, if at all, while
common experience suggests that it would be even attractive to him.
With the ardour of a young disciple--which in his case grew, year by
year, till he passed away--he sought spiritual counsel and communion.
On his visits to Cornwall he found both in his younger sister, but it
is evident that, from the first, the riper spiritual life of Lydia
Grenfell attracted him to her. His triumph, at twenty, as Senior
Wrangler put him quite in a position to dream of winning her. His
unexpected poverty was relieved by his Fellowship of St. John's. In
those days, however, that would have ceased with marriage. When it
became more than probable that he would receive an appointment to
Bengal, through Mr. Charles Grant--either as minister of the Mission
Church founded by Kiernander, or as a chaplain of the East India
Company--he was face to face with the question of marrying.

In these days the course followed by missionary societies as the
result of experience is certainly the best. A missionary and a
chaplain in India should, in ordinary circumstances, be married, but
it is not desirable that the marriage take place for a year or longer,
until the young minister has proved the climate, and has learned the
native language, when the lady can be sent out to be united to him. At
the beginning of the modern missionary enterprise, a century ago, it
was difficult to find spiritual men willing to go to India on any
terms, and they did well in every case to go out married. All the
conditions of time, distance, society, and Christian influence were
then different. If the missionary's or chaplain's wife is worthy of
his calling, she doubles his usefulness, notwithstanding the cares and
the expense of children in many cases, alike by keeping her husband in
a state of efficiency on every side, by her own works of charity and
self-sacrifice--especially among the women, who can be reached in no
other way--and by helping to present to the idolatrous or Mussulman
community the powerful example of a Christian home. Henry Martyn's
principles and instincts were right in this matter. As a chaplain, at
any rate, he was in a position to marry at once. As India or Bengal
then was, Lydia, had she gone out with him, or soon after him, would
have proved to be a much needed force in Anglo-Indian society, an
influence on the native communities whom he sought to bring to Christ.
Above all, as a man born with a weak body, with habits of incessant
and intense application to study and to duty, Henry Martyn required
one with the influence of a wife to keep him in life and to prolong
his Indian service. It was the greatest calamity of his whole career
that Lydia did not accompany him. But, since he learned to love her
with all the rich devotion of his passionate nature, we cannot
consider it 'a bitter misfortune,' as some do, that he ever knew her.
His love for Lydia, in the fluctuations of its hope, in the ebb and
flow of its tenderness, and in the transmutation of its despair into
faith and resignation to the will of God, worked out a higher
elevation for himself, and gives to his _Journals and Letters_ a pure
human interest which places them above the _Confessions of St.
Augustine_.

The first allusion to the possibility of marriage we find in his
_Journal_ of January 23, 1803, and again in June 12 of the same year:

    I was grieved to find that all the exertions of prayer were
    necessary against worldly-mindedness, so soon had the prospect
    of the means of competent support in India filled my heart with
    concern about earthly happiness, marriage, &c.; but I strove
    earnestly against them, and prayed for grace that, if it should
    please God to try my faith by calling me to a post of opulence,
    I might not dare to use for myself what is truly His; as also,
    that I might be enabled to keep myself single, for serving Him
    more effectually. Nevertheless, this change in my circumstances
    so troubled me, that I could have been infinitely better pleased
    to have gone out as a missionary, poor as the Lord and His
    Apostles.

His friend Sargent's 'approaching marriage with a lady of uncommon
excellence rather excited in me a desire after a similar state; but I
strove against it,' he wrote on July 10. Next day, on the top of the
coach from London to Bath, in the cold of a high wind, he was 'most
dreadfully assailed by evil thoughts, but at the very height prayer
prevailed, and I was delivered, and during the rest of the journey
enjoyed great peace and a strong desire to live for Christ alone,
forsaking the pleasures of the world, marriage, &c.' At Plymouth he
spent two days 'with my dear cousin T.H.,' Lydia's sister. After
Truro, Kenwyn, and Lamorran, near Truro, of which his sister Sarah's
husband was vicar, he rode to St. Hilary.

    _1804, July 29._ (Sunday.)--Read and prayed in the morning
    before service with seriousness, striving against those thoughts
    which oppressed me all the rest of the day. At St. Hilary Church
    in the morning my thoughts wandered from the service, and I
    suffered the keenest disappointment. Miss L.G. did not come.
    Yet, in great pain, I blessed God for having kept her away, as
    she might have been a snare to me. These things would be almost
    incredible to another, and almost to myself, were I not taught
    by daily experience that, whatever the world may say, or I may
    think of myself, I am a poor, wretched, sinful, contemptible
    worm.

    Called after tea on Miss L.G., and walked with her and ----,
    conversing on spiritual subjects. All the rest of the evening,
    and at night, I could not keep her out of my mind. I felt too
    plainly that I loved her passionately. The direct opposition of
    this to my devotedness to God in the missionary way, excited no
    small tumult in my mind. In conversation, having no divine
    sweetness in peace, my cheerfulness was affected, and,
    consequently, very hurtful to my conscience. At night I
    continued an hour and a half in prayer, striving against this
    attachment. I endeavoured to analyse it, that I might see how
    base, and mean, and worthless such a love to a speck of earth
    was, compared with divine love. Then I read the most solemn
    parts of Scripture, to realise to myself death and eternity; and
    these attempts were sometimes blest. One while I was about to
    triumph, but in a moment my heart had wandered to the beloved
    idol. I went to bed in great pain, yet still rather superior to
    the evening; but in dreams her image returned, and I awoke in
    the night with my mind full of her. No one can say how deeply
    this unhappy affection has fixed itself; since it has nothing
    selfish in it, that I can perceive, but is founded on the
    highest admiration of her piety and manners.

    _July 30._--Rose in great peace. God, by secret influence,
    seemed to have caused the tempest of self-will to subside. Rode
    away from St. Hilary to Gwennap in peace of mind, and meditated
    most of the way on Romans viii. I again devoted myself to the
    Lord, and with more of my will than last night. I was much
    disposed to think of subjects entirely placed beyond the world,
    and had strong desires, though with heavy opposition from my
    corrupt nature, after that entire deadness to the world which
    David Brainerd manifested. At night I found myself to have
    backslidden a long way from the life of godliness, to have
    declined very much since my coming into Cornwall, but especially
    since I went to St. Hilary. Sat up late, and read the last
    chapter and other parts of Revelation, and was deeply affected.
    Prayed with more success than lately.

    _July 31._--Read and prayed this morning with increasing victory
    over my self-will. Romans vii. was particularly suitable; it was
    agreeable to me to speak to God of my own corruption and
    helplessness. Walked in the afternoon to Redruth, after having
    prayed over the Epistle to the Ephesians with much seriousness.
    On the road I was enabled to triumph at last, and found my heart
    as pleased with the prospect of a single life in missionary
    labours as ever. 'What is the exceeding greatness of His power
    to usward who believe!'

After preaching to crowds in his brother-in-law's church at Kenwyn and
Lamorran, on the two subsequent Sundays, he walked to St. Hilary:

    _1804, August 26._--Rose early, and walked out, invited by the
    beauty of the morning. Many different pleasing thoughts crowded
    on my mind, as I viewed the sea and rocks, Mount and bay, and
    thought of the person who lived near it; but, for want of
    checking my natural spirits, and fixing on one subject of
    thought, I was not much benefited by my meditations. Walked in
    the evening with Mrs. G. and Lydia up the hill, with the most
    beautiful prospect of the sea, &c.; but I was unhappy, from
    feeling the attachment to Lydia, for I was unwilling to leave
    her.

    _August 27._--Walked to Marazion, with my heart more delivered
    from its idolatry, and enabled to look steadily and peacefully
    to God. Reading in the afternoon to Lydia alone, from Dr. Watts,
    there happened to be, among other things, a prayer on entire
    preference of God to the creature. Now, thought I, here am I in
    the presence of God, and my idol. So I used the prayer for
    myself, and addressed it to God, who answered it, I think, for
    my love was kindled to God and divine things, and I felt
    cheerfully resigned to the will of God, to forego the earthly
    joy which I had just been desiring with my whole heart. I
    continued conversing with her, generally with my heart in
    heaven, but every now and then resting on her. Parted with
    Lydia, perhaps for ever in this life, with a sort of uncertain
    pain, which I knew would increase to greater violence
    afterwards, on reflection. Walked to St. Hilary, determining, in
    great tumult and inward pain, to be the servant of God. All the
    rest of the evening, in company or alone, I could think of
    nothing but her excellences. My efforts were, however, through
    mercy, not in vain, to feel the vanity of this attachment to the
    creature. Read in Thomas à Kempis many chapters directly to the
    purpose; the shortness of time, the awfulness of death and its
    consequences, rather settled my mind to prayer. I devoted myself
    unreservedly to the service of the Lord, to Him, as to one who
    knew the great conflict within, and my firm resolve, through His
    grace, of being His, though it should be with much tribulation.

    _August 28._--Rose with a heavy heart, and took leave of St.
    Hilary, where all the happier hours of my early life were
    passed. ---- and ---- accompanied me in the chaise a few miles;
    but the moment they left me I walked on, dwelling at large on
    the excellence of Lydia. I had a few faint struggles to forget
    her, and delight in God, but they were ineffectual. Among the
    many motives to the subjection of self-will, I found the thought
    of the entire unworthiness of a soul escaped from hell to choose
    its own will before God's, most bring my soul to a right frame.
    So that, while I saw the necessity of resigning, for the service
    of God, all those joys, for the loss of which I could not
    perceive how anything in heaven or earth could be a
    compensation, I said, Amen!

    _August 29._--I walked to Truro, with my mind almost all the way
    taken up with Lydia. But once reasoning in this way--If God made
    me, and wills my happiness, as I do not doubt, then He is
    providing for my good by separating me from her; this reasoning
    convinced my mind. I felt very solemnly and sweetly the
    excellence of serving God faithfully, of following Christ and
    His Apostles, and meditated with great joy on the approach of
    the end of this world. Yet still I enjoyed, every now and then,
    the thought of walking hereafter with her, in the realms of
    glory, conversing on the things of God. My mind the rest of the
    evening was much depressed. I had no desire to live in this
    world; scarcely could I say where I would be, or what I would
    do, now that my self-will was so strongly counteracted. Thus God
    waits patiently my return from my backsliding, which I would do
    immediately. If He were to offer me the utmost of my wishes, I
    would say, 'Not so, Lord! Not my will, but Thine be done.'

    _August 30._--Passed the morning rather idly, in reading lives
    of pious women. I felt an indescribable mixture of opposing
    emotions. At one time, about to ascend with delight to God, who
    had permitted me to aspire after the same glory, but oftener
    called down to earth by my earthly good. Major Sandys calling,
    continued till dinner conversing about India. I consented to
    stay a day with him at Helston, but the thought of being so near
    Marazion renewed my pain, especially taken in connection with my
    going thither on the subject of my departure. After dinner,
    walked in the garden for two hours, reasoning with my perverse
    heart, and, through God's mercy, not without success. You preach
    up deadness to the world, and yet not an example of it! Now is
    the time, my soul, if you cannot feel that it is best to bear
    the cross, to trust God for it. This will be true faith. If I
    were put in possession of my idol, I should immediately say and
    feel that God alone was, notwithstanding, the only good, and to
    Him I should seek immediately. Again I weighed the probable
    temporal consequence of having my own will gratified; the
    dreadful pain of separation by death, after being united,
    together with the distress I might bring upon her whom I loved.
    All these things were of small influence till I read the Epistle
    to the Hebrews, by which my mind, made to consider divine things
    attentively, was much more freed from earthly things. 'Let us
    come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy,
    and find grace to help in time of need,' was very precious and
    comforting to me. I have found grace to help in this time of
    need; I still want a humble spirit to wait upon the Lord. I
    almost called God to witness that I duly resigned my pleasure to
    His, as if I wished it to be remembered. In the evening had a
    serious and solemn time in prayer, chiefly for the influences of
    the Spirit, and rose with my thoughts fixed on eternity; I
    longed for death, and called on the glorious day to hasten; but
    it was in order to be free from the troubles of this world.

    _August 31._--Passed the morning partly in reading and writing,
    but chiefly in business. Rode to Rosemundy, with my mind at
    first very unhappy, at the necessity of mortifying my self-will,
    in the same particulars as for some days. In conversing on the
    subject of India with Major Sandys, I could not help
    communicating the pain I felt at parting with the person to whom
    I was attached; but by thus dwelling on the subject my heart was
    far more distressed than ever. Found my mind more easy and
    submissive to God at night in prayer.

St. Hilary Church, in which Henry Martyn preached, is one of the
oldest in England, containing, in the tower of Edward III.'s reign,
two stones with inscriptions of the time of the Emperor Flavius
Constantinus, who was killed by Honorius in 411. What Lydia Grenfell
thought of Martyn's sermon on that day, August 26, thenceforth
memorable to both, we find in her _Diary_ of that date:

    _1804, August 26._--Heard H.M. on 'Now then we are ambassadors
    for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you, in
    Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God. For He hath made Him to
    be sin (_i.e._ sin-offering) for us, Who knew no sin; that we
    might be made the righteousness of God in Him.' Exordium on the
    honourable employment of a minister of the Gospel. In the text
    two things were implied. First, we were at enmity with God.
    Second, we were unable to restore ourselves to His favour.
    There were two things expressed in the text--the means of
    reconciliation, and God's invitation to be reconciled; a
    threefold address to saints, backsliders, and sinners; and a
    farewell address. A precious sermon. Lord, bless the preacher,
    and those that heard him!

At that time, in 1804, the lady was still preoccupied, in conscience
or heart, or both, by her imaginary ties to Mr. S. John. But six
months before that she had heard of his approaching marriage, though,
in fact, that did not take place till 1810. All that time, if she did
not feel, to one to whom her heart had been more closely united than
to any 'earthly object,' as she had written in her _Diary_, what Mr.
H.M. Jeffery describes as the attachment of a widow with the
responsibility of a wife, her scrupulous introspective habit was an
obstacle to a healthy attachment. The preacher, younger than herself,
was in 1804 evidently to her only an interesting and gracious second
cousin, or perhaps a little more.

On his way back to London Henry Martyn again visited Plymouth, where
he learned from his cousin 'that my attachment to her sister was not
altogether unreturned, and the discovery gave me both pleasure and
pain.' He left them, his thoughts 'almost wholly occupied with Lydia.'
London, Cambridge, his reading and his walking, his work and even his
sleep, bring him no rest from the absorbing passion. His _Journal_ is
full of it, almost every day. Fortescue's poems recall the happy
mornings at St. Hilary, but his pensive meditation subsided into a
more profitable one on the vanity of the world: 'they marry and are
given in marriage,' and at the end of a few years what are they more
than myself?--looking forward to the same dissolution, and expecting
their real happiness in another life. 'The fashion of this world
passeth away,' Amen. 'Let me do the will of God while I am in it.'

The first day of the year 1805 led him to review the past five years,
and to renew his self-dedication to God the Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost, to be His servant for ever. The time for his departure to India
was at hand, and his last act, on leaving London for Cambridge, to
complete his arrangements for sailing, was deliberately to engage
himself to Lydia Grenfell in the following letter to her sister.[11]
It is thus referred to in his _Journal_:

    I was in some doubt whether I should send the letter to Emma, as
    it was taking a very important step, and I could scarcely
    foresee all the consequences. However, I did send it, and may
    now be said to have engaged myself to Lydia.

                     18 Brunswick Square (London), January 11, 1805.

    My dear Mrs. Hitchins,--How unaccountable must my long silence
    appear to you after the conversation that passed between us in
    the carriage! You may well wonder that I could forbear, for
    three whole months, to inquire about the 'beloved Persis.'
    Indeed, I am surprised at my own patience, but, in truth, I
    found it impossible to discover what it is which I wish or ought
    to say on the subject, and therefore determined to defer writing
    till I could inform you with certainty of my future destination.
    But I have it not yet in my power to do this, for no actual
    appointment has been made for me yet. I came to town the
    beginning of this week to inquire into the present state of the
    business, and learned from Mr. Grant that the situation he
    intended to procure, and to which he had no doubt of getting me
    nominated, was not in the Army, but at Fort William, near
    Calcutta. Thus it pleases God to suspend the declaration of His
    mind, and I can believe that He acts wisely. These apparent
    delays serve to check my youthful impetuosity, and teach me to
    look up to God, and wait for Him. If the chaplaincy at Fort
    William should be given me, it would seem to be His design not
    to call me to the peculiar work of a missionary, but to fix my
    station among the English. At present my own inclination remains
    almost unbiassed, as to the particular employment or place God
    shall assign me, whether to pass my days among the natives, or
    the more polished inhabitants of Calcutta, or even to remain at
    home.

    But you will easily conceive that the increasing probability of
    my being settled in a town rather tends to revive the thoughts
    of marriage, for I feel very little doubt in my own mind, that
    in such a situation it would be expedient for me on the whole to
    marry, if other circumstances permitted it. It is also as clear
    that I ought not to make an engagement with any one in England,
    till I have ascertained by actual observation in India, what
    state of life and mode of proceeding would be most conducive to
    the ends of my mission. But why do I mention these difficulties?
    If they were removed, others would remain still more
    insurmountable. The affections of the beloved object in question
    must still be engaged in my favour, or even then she would not
    agree to leave the kingdom, nor would any of you agree to it,
    nor would such a change of climate, it may be thought, suit the
    delicacy of her constitution.

    Must I, then, yield to the force of these arguments, and resolve
    to think of her no more? It shall certainly be my endeavour, by
    the help of my God, to do it, if need be; but I confess I am
    very unwilling to go away and hear of her only accidentally
    through the medium of others. It is this painful reflection that
    has prompted a wish, which I do not mention without some
    hesitation, and that is my wish of corresponding with her. It
    is possible you may instantly perceive some impropriety in it
    which escapes my notice, and indeed there are some objections
    which I foresee might be made, but instead of anticipating them,
    I will leave you to form your own opinion. In religion we have a
    subject to write upon of equal interest to us both, and though I
    cannot expect she would derive any advantage from my letters, it
    is certain I should receive no small benefit from hers. But I
    leave it with yourself; if you disapprove of the measure, let
    the request be forgotten. It will be best for her never to know
    I had made it, or if she does, she will, I hope, pardon a
    liberty to which I have been drawn only by the love of her
    excellence.

    N.B.--I remember _Leighton_; take care not to forget it nor the
    desired MS.

On June 1 he wrote in his _Journal_:

    My departure from my friends, and my deprivation of the sweetest
    delight in society, for ever in this life, have rather dejected
    me to-day. Ah! Nature, thou hast still tears to shed for
    thyself!... I seem to be hankering after something or other in
    this world, though I am sure I could not say there is anything
    which I believed could give me happiness. No! it is in God
    above. Yet to-night I have been thinking much of Lydia. Memory
    has been at work to unnerve my soul, but reason, and honour, and
    love to Christ and to souls, shall prevail. Amen. God help me!

Two days after, at the Eclectic Society, after a discussion on the
symptoms of 'the state of the nation,' the subject of marriage,
somehow or other, came to be mentioned.

    Mr. Cecil spoke very freely and strongly on the subject. He said
    I should be acting like a madman if I went out unmarried. A wife
    would supply by her comfort and counsel the entire want of
    society, and also be a preservative both to character and
    passions amidst such scenes. I felt as cold as an anchorite on
    the subject as to my own feelings, but I was much perplexed all
    the rest of the evening about it. I clearly perceived that my
    own inclination upon the whole was not to marriage. The fear of
    being involved in worldly cares and numberless troubles, which I
    do not now foresee, makes me tremble and dislike the thoughts of
    such connection. When I think of Brainerd, how he lived among
    the Indians, travelling freely from place to place, can I
    conceive he would have been so useful had he been married? I
    remember also that Owens, who had been so many years in the West
    Indies as a missionary, gave his advice against marriage.
    Schwartz was never married, nor St. Paul. On the other hand,
    when I suppose another in my circumstances, fixed at a
    settlement without company, without society, in a scene and
    climate of such temptation, I say without hesitation, he ought
    to be married. I have recollected this evening very much my
    feelings when I walked through Wales; how I longed there to have
    some friend to speak to; and the three weeks seemed an age
    without one. And I have often thought how valuable would be the
    counsel and comfort of a Christian brother in India. These
    advantages would be obtained by marrying. I feel anxious also
    that as many Christians as possible should go to India, and
    anyone willing to go would be a valuable addition. But yet
    voluntary celibacy seems so much more noble and glorious, and so
    much more beneficial in the way of example, that I am loth to
    relinquish the idea of it. In short, I am utterly at a loss to
    know what is best for the interests of the Gospel. But, happily,
    my own peace is not much concerned in it. If this opinion of so
    many pious clergymen had come across me when I was in Cornwall,
    and so strongly attached to my beloved Lydia, it would have been
    a conflict indeed in my heart to oppose so many arguments. But
    now I feel, through grace, an astonishing difference. I hope I
    am not seeking an excuse for marriage, nor persuading myself I
    am indifferent about it, in order that what is really my
    inclination may appear to be the will of God. But I feel my
    affections kindling to their wonted fondness while I dwell on
    the circumstances of a union with Lydia. May the Lord teach His
    weak creature to live peacefully and soberly in His love,
    drawing all my joys from Him, the fountain of living waters.

    _June 4._--The subject of marriage made me thoughtful and
    serious. Mr. Atkinson, whose opinion I revere, was against my
    marrying. Found near access to my God in prayer. Oh, what a
    comfort it is to have God to go to. I breathed freely to Him my
    sorrows and cares, and set about my work with diligence. The
    Lord assisted me very much, and I wrote more freely than ever I
    did. Slept very little in the night.

    _June 5._--Corrie breakfasted with me, and went to prayer; I
    rejoiced to find he was not unwilling to go to India. He will
    probably be my fellow-labourer. Most of this morning was
    employed in writing all my sentiments on the subject of marriage
    to Mr. Simeon. May the Lord suggest something to him which may
    be of use to guide me, and keep my eye single. In my walk out,
    and afterwards, the subject was constantly on my mind. But,
    alas! I did not guard against that distraction from heavenly
    things which I was aware it would occasion. On reflection at
    home, I found I had been talking in a very inconsistent manner,
    but was again restored to peace by an application to Christ's
    blood through the Spirit. My mind has all this day been very
    strongly inclined to marriage, and has been consequently
    uncomfortable, for in proportion to its want of simplicity it is
    unhappy. But Mr. Cecil said to-day, he thought Lydia's decision
    would fully declare the will of God. With this I am again
    comforted, for now hath the Lord taken the matter into His own
    hands. Whatever He decides upon, I shall rejoice; and though I
    confess I think she will not consent to go, I shall then have
    the question finally settled.

    Discussion in the evening was about my marriage again; they were
    all strenuous advocates for it. Wrote at night with great
    freedom, but my body is very weak from the fatigue I have
    already undergone. My mind seems very active this week;
    manifestly, indeed, strengthened by God to be enabled to write
    on religious subjects with such unusual ease, while it is also
    full of this important business of the marriage. My inclination
    continues, I think, far more unbiassed than when I wrote to Mr.
    Simeon.

    _June 7._--Oh, the subtlety of the devil, and the deceitfulness
    of this corrupted heart! How has an idol been imperceptibly
    raised up in it. Something fell from Dr. F. this evening against
    my marriage which struck me so forcibly, though there was
    nothing particular in it, that I began to see I should finally
    give up all thoughts about it. But how great the conflict! I
    could not have believed it had such hold on my affections.
    Before this I had been writing in tolerable tranquillity, and
    walked out in the enjoyment of a resigned mind, even rejoicing
    for the most part in God, and dined at Mr. Cecil's, where the
    arguments I heard were all in favour of the flesh, and so I was
    pleased; but Dr. F.'s words gave a new turn to my thoughts, and
    the tumult showed me the true state of my heart. How miserable
    did life appear without the hope of Lydia! Oh, how has the
    discussion of the subject opened all my wounds afresh! I have
    not felt such heartrending pain since I parted with her in
    Cornwall. But the Lord brought me to consider the folly and
    wickedness of all this. Shall I hesitate to keep my days in
    constant solitude, who am but a brand plucked from the burning?
    I could not help saying, 'Go, Hindus, go on in your misery; let
    Satan still rule over you; for he that was appointed to labour
    among you is consulting his ease.' No, thought I; hell and
    earth shall never keep me back from my work. I am cast down, but
    not destroyed; I began to consider, why am I so uneasy? 'Cast
    thy care upon Him, for He careth for you.' 'In everything, by
    prayer,' &c. These promises were graciously fulfilled before
    long to me.

    _June 8._--My mind continued in much the same state this
    morning, waiting with no small anxiety for a letter from Mr.
    Simeon, hoping, of course, that the will of God would coincide
    with my will, yet thinking the determination of the question
    would be indifferent to me. When the letter arrived I was
    immediately convinced, beyond all doubt, of the expediency of
    celibacy. But my wish did not follow my judgment quite so
    readily. Mr. Pratt coming in, argued strongly on the other side,
    but there was nothing of any weight. The subject so occupied my
    thoughts that I could attend to nothing else. I saw myself
    called to be less than ever a man of this world, and walked out
    with a heavy heart. Met Dr. F., who alone of all men could best
    sympathise, and his few words were encouraging. Yet I cannot
    cordially acquiesce in all the Lord's dealings, though my reason
    and judgment approve them, and my inclination would desire to do
    it. Dined at Mr. Cecil's, where it providentially happened that
    Mr. Foster came in. To them I read Mr. Simeon's letter, and they
    were both convinced by it. So I went away home, with nothing to
    do but to get my heart easy again under this sacrifice. I
    devoted myself once more to the entire and everlasting service
    of God, and found myself more weaned from this world, and
    desiring the next, though not from a right principle. Continued
    all the evening writing sermon, and reading _Pilgrim's
    Progress_, with successions of vivid emotions of pain and
    pleasure. My heart was sometimes ready to break with agony at
    being torn from its dearest idol, and at other times I was
    visited by a few moments of sublime and enraptured joy. Such is
    the conflict; why have my friends mentioned this subject? It has
    torn open old wounds, and I am again bleeding. With all my
    honours and knowledge, the smiles and approbation of men, the
    health and prosperity that have fallen to my lot, together with
    that freedom from doubts and fears with which I was formerly
    visited, how much have I gone through in the last two or three
    years to bring my mind to be willing to do the will of God when
    it should be revealed! My heart is pained within me, and my
    bodily frame suffers from it.

    _June 9._ (Sunday.)--My heart is still pained. It is still as a
    bullock unaccustomed to the yoke; the Lord help me to maintain
    the conflict. Preached this morning at Long Acre Chapel on Matt.
    xxviii., the three last verses. There was the utmost attention.
    In the interval between morning and afternoon, passed most of
    the time in reading and prayer. Read Matthew iii., and
    considered the character of John the Baptist. Holy emulation
    seemed to spring up in my mind. Then read John xvii. and last
    chapter, and Rev. i., all of which were blessed to my soul. I
    went into the church persuaded in my feelings--which is
    different from being persuaded in the understanding--that it was
    nobler and wiser to be as John the Baptist, Peter, John, and all
    the Apostles, than to have my own will gratified. Preached on
    Eph. ii. 18. Walked a little with Mr. Grant this evening. He
    told me I should have great trials and temptations in India; but
    I know where to apply for grace to help.

Cecil's final opinion, that Lydia Grenfell's decision would fully
declare the will of God, was not borne out by the result, as we shall
see. Meanwhile, let us trace the steps which led to the final
appointment to India, and the farewell.

On his first visit to London at the beginning of the year 1804, by the
Telegraph coach, the Cambridge recluse was distracted by the bustle
of the great city, as he walked about the streets and called at the
booksellers'. Dr. Wollaston, the British Museum, and the Gresham
Lecture on Music, of which he was passionately fond, occupied his
first two days. At the old India House, since swept away from
Leadenhall Street, he met Mr. Charles Grant, who, as he took him to
Clapham, the evangelical centre which Sir James Stephen has made so
famous,[12] gave him much information on the state of India, such as
this:

    It would be absolutely necessary to keep three servants, for
    three can do no more than the work of one English; that no
    European constitution can endure being exposed to mid-day heat;
    that Mr. Schwartz, who was settled at Tanjore, did do it for a
    time, walking among the natives. Mr. Grant had never seen Mr.
    Schwartz, but corresponded with him. He was the son of a Saxon
    gentleman (the Saxon gentlemen never enter the ministry of the
    Church), and had early devoted himself to the work of a
    missionary amongst the Indians. Besides the knowledge of the
    Malabar tongue, in which he was profoundly skilled and eloquent,
    he was a good classic, and learnt the English, Portuguese, and
    Dutch. He was a man of dignified and polished manners, and
    cheerful.

This was the first opportunity that 'the Clapham sect' had to satisfy
themselves that the Senior Wrangler was worthy of the commendation of
Charles Simeon. Accordingly they dined with William Wilberforce at
Broomfield.

    We conversed about my business. They wished me to fill the
    church in Calcutta very much; but advised me to wait some time,
    and to cherish the same views. To Mr. Wilberforce I went into a
    detail of my views, and the reasons that had operated on my
    mind. The conversation of Mr. Wilberforce and Mr. Grant during
    the whole of the day, before the rest of the company, which
    consisted of Mr. Johnston, of New South Wales, a French Abbé,
    Mrs. Unwin, Mr. H., and other ladies, was edifying; agreeable to
    what I should think right for two godly senators, planning some
    means of bringing before Parliament propositions for bettering
    the moral state of the colony of Botany Bay. At evening worship
    Mr. W. expounded Sacred Scripture with serious plainness, and
    prayed in the midst of his large household.

In _The Life of William Wilberforce_, by his sons, we find this
passage introduced by the remark, 'It is delightful to contrast with
his own language the observation of one who, with as holy and as
humble a soul, was just entering on his brief but glorious course:'
Martyn 'drank tea at Mr. Newton's; the old man was very civil to me,
and striking in his remarks in general.' Next day:

    Read Isaiah. At one, we went to hear the charge delivered to the
    missionaries at the New London Tavern, in Cheapside. There was
    nothing remarkable in it, but the conclusion was affecting. I
    shook hands with the two missionaries, Melchior Rayner and Peter
    Hartwig, and almost wished to go with them, but certainly to go
    to India. Returned, and read Isaiah.

From the ever recurring distractions of his soul, caused now by 'a
despicable indulgence in lying in bed,' and again by the interruptions
of visitors, he sought refuge frequently in fasting and ascetic
self-denial, and occasionally in writing verse:

    Composed some poetry during my walk, which often has a tendency
    to divert my thoughts from the base distractions of this life,
    and to purify and elevate it to higher subjects.... On my way
    to Mr. Simeon's, heard part of the service in King's Chapel. The
    sanctity of the place, and the music, brought heaven and eternal
    things, and the presence of God, very near to me.

He seems to have competed for the Seatonian Prize. He was an ardent
lover of Nature.

    Walked out before breakfast, and the beauties of the opening
    spring constrained me to adoration and praise. But no earthly
    object or operation can produce true spirituality of heart. My
    present failing is in this, that I do not feel the power of
    motives.

Of another walk he writes:

    I was led to think a good while on my deficiency in human
    learning, and on my having neglected those branches which would
    have been pleasing and honourable in the acquisition. Yet I
    said, though with somewhat of melancholy, 'What things were gain
    to me, those I counted loss for Christ.' Though I become less
    esteemed by man, I cannot but think (though it is not easy to do
    so) that it must be more acceptable to God to labour for souls,
    though the mind remains uninformed; and, consequently, that it
    must be more truly great and noble, than to be great and notable
    among men for learning. In the garden afterwards I rejoiced
    exceedingly at the prospect of a death fast approaching, when my
    powers of understanding would be enlarged inconceivably. They
    all talked to me in praise of my sermon on Sunday night; but
    praise is exceedingly unpleasant to me, because I am slow to
    render back to God that glory which belongs to Him alone.
    Sometimes it may be useful in encouraging me, when I want
    encouragement; but that at present is not the case; and in
    truth, praise generally produces pride, and pride presently sets
    me far from God.

    Oh, what a snare are public ministrations to me! Not that I wish
    for the praise of men, but there is some fear and anxiety about
    not getting through. How happy could I be in meeting the people
    of my God more frequently were it not for this fear of being
    unprofitable! But since God has given me natural gifts, let this
    teach me that all I want is a spiritual frame to improve and
    employ them in the things of God!

    Mr. K. White, of Nottingham, breakfasted with me. In my walk was
    greatly cast down, except for a short time on my return, when,
    as I was singing, or rather chanting, some petitions in a low,
    plaintive voice, I insensibly found myself sweetly engaged in
    prayer.

Such outpourings of his heart must be read in the light of a time when
even the Churches had not awoke to their duty, and the most theologically
orthodox were too often the most indifferent, or opposed, to the Lord's
command.

    _1804, January 13._--Walked out in the evening in great
    tranquillity, and on my return met with Mr. C., with whom I was
    obliged to walk an hour longer. He thought it a most improper
    step for me to leave the University to preach to the ignorant
    heathen, which any person could do, and that I ought rather to
    improve the opportunity of acquiring human learning. All our
    conversation on the subject of learning, religion, &c., ended in
    nothing; he was convinced he was right, and all the texts of
    Scripture I produced were applicable, according to him, only to
    the times of the Apostles. How is my soul constrained to adore
    the sovereign mercy of God, who began His work in my proud
    heart, and carried it on through snares which have ruined
    thousands--namely, human learning and honours: and now my soul,
    dost thou not esteem all things but dung and dross, compared
    with the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord?
    Yea, did not gratitude constrain me, did not duty and fear of
    destruction, yet surely the excellency of the service of Christ
    would constrain me to lay down ten-thousand lives in the
    prosecution of it. My heart was a little discomposed this
    evening at the account of the late magnificent prizes proposed
    by Mr. Buchanan and others in the University, for which Mr. C.
    has been calling me to write; but I was soon at rest again. But
    how easily do I forget that God is no respecter of persons; that
    in the midst of the notice I attract as an enthusiast He judges
    of me according to my inward state. Oh, my soul, take no
    pleasure in outward religion, nor in exciting wonder, but in the
    true circumcision of the heart.

    _January 16._-- ---- told me of many contemptuous insulting
    things that had been said of me, reflecting, some on my
    understanding, some on my condition, sincerity, inconsistent
    conduct. It was a great trial of my patience, and I was
    frequently tempted, in the course of the evening, to let my
    natural spirit rage forth in indignation and revenge; but I
    remembered Him of whom it was said, 'Who, when He was reviled,
    reviled not again; but committed Himself to Him that judgeth
    righteously.' As I was conscious I did not deserve the censures
    which were passed upon me, I committed myself to God; and in Him
    may I abide until the indignation be overpast!

In July 1804 he again visited London on his way to Cornwall, and to
see Mr. Charles Grant.

    Dined with Mr. Wilberforce at Palace Yard. It was very
    agreeable, as there was no one else. Speaking of the slave
    trade, I mentioned the words, 'Shall I not visit for these
    things?' and found my heart so affected that I could with
    difficulty refrain from tears. Went with Mr. W. to the House of
    Commons, where I was surprised and charmed with Mr. Pitt's
    eloquence. Ah, thought I, if these powers of oratory were now
    employed in recommending the Gospel!

On his way back to Cambridge, through London, he

    Went to St. Paul's, to see Sir W. Jones's monument; the sight of
    the interior of the dome filled my soul with inexpressible ideas
    of the grandeur of God, and the glory of heaven, much the same
    as I had at the sight of a painted vaulted roof in the British
    Museum. I could scarcely believe that I might be in the
    immediate enjoyments of such glory in another hour. In the
    evening the sound of sacred music, with the sight of a rural
    landscape, imparted some indescribable emotions after the glory
    of God, by diligence in His work. To preach the Gospel for the
    salvation of my poor fellow-creatures, that they might obtain
    the salvation which is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory,
    seemed a very sweet and precious employment. Lydia then, again,
    seemed a small hindrance.

His duties as examiner, tutor, and in charge of Lolworth, and home
mission work in Wall's Lane, the hospital and almshouse, left him
little leisure, and that he gave to the Bengali grammars of Halhed and
Carey, to Carey's Bengali New Testament, to Arabic grammars, and to
the missionary accounts in the _Christian Observer_, for which, also,
he wrote. Referring, evidently, to Carey's convert, he wrote:

    The account of a Brahmin preaching the Gospel delighted me most
    exceedingly. I could not help blessing God for thus glorifying
    Himself.... I was much pained and humbled at reflecting that it
    has never yet, to my knowledge, pleased God to awaken one soul
    by my means, either in public or private,--shame be to myself.

    Simeon gave me a letter from Mr. Brown of Calcutta, which gave
    me great delight on many accounts. Speaking of me, he says, 'Let
    him marry, and come out at once.' I thought of Lydia with great
    tenderness, but without pain at my determination to go out
    single. I found great affection in prayer for my dear brethren
    at Calcutta, for the establishing of Christ's Kingdom among the
    poor Gentiles, and for my being sent among them, if it were His
    will.

    Thinking my mind was in need of recreation, I took up Lord
    Teignmouth's _Life of Sir William Jones_, and read till tea.

    Low spirits at church, through being about to preach old
    sermons, which I feel so ashamed of offering to God, that I
    believe I shall rather leave everything undone, than not write
    one new one at least every week.

    Mr. Thomason preached on Heb. xii. to my edification.

    Dr. Milner and Lord C. called. I was introduced as having been
    Senior Wrangler; but how contemptible did these paltry honours
    appear to me! Ah, thought I, you know not how little I am
    flattered by these intended compliments.

    In the hall was much affected by the sight of Lord B., whose
    look of meekness and humility riveted my attention, and almost
    melted me to tears. If there is one disposition in the world I
    wish for more than another, it is this; but the bias of my
    corrupted nature hurries me violently against it.

Mr. Grant's summons to him 'to sail for St. Helena in eight or ten
days,' reached him a month before his twenty-fourth birthday, before
which he could not legally receive full ordination, in the Chapel
Royal at St. James's.

    Felt more persuaded of my call than ever; indeed, there was
    scarcely a shadow of a doubt left. Rejoice, O my soul, thou
    shalt be the servant of thy God in this life, and then in the
    next for all the boundless ages of eternity.

Not till August 31 was it possible for the fleet which convoyed the
East Indiamen, in that year of war with France and Napoleon's
Continental allies, to see the last of Ireland. The seven months were
spent by Henry Martyn in elaborate preparations for what proved to be
nearly a year's voyage, and in repeated farewells the anguish of which
is reflected in his _Journal_ and correspondence. Having previously
taken his M.A. degree, he received that of Bachelor of Divinity by
mandate, which required the assent of all the heads of colleges, and
then a grace to pass the senate, and the presenting of a petition to the
King. Dr. Gilchrist, the Orientalist who had just returned from his long
career in Calcutta, where he had been a colleague of Carey in the
College of Fort William, gave him lessons in Hindustani pronunciation.

    On my mentioning my desire of translating some of the Scriptures
    with him, he advised me by all means to desist till I knew much
    more of the language, by having resided some years in the
    country. He said it was the rock on which missions had split,
    that they had attempted to write and preach before they knew the
    language. The Lord's Prayer, he said, was now a common subject
    of ridicule with the people, on account of the manner in which
    it had been translated. All these are useful hints to me.

The mode of appointing to Indian chaplaincies has varied so much since
the time of Charles Grant and Simeon, that it is interesting to see
what was done in Henry Martyn's case.

    _1805, April 1._--Went to Lord Hawkesbury's office, but, being
    too early, I went into St. James's Park, and sat down on a bench
    to read my Bible. After a little time a person came and sat down
    on the same bench; on entering into conversation with him I
    found he had known better days. He was about seventy years of
    age, and of a very passionate and disappointed spirit. He spoke
    sensibly on several subjects, and was acquainted with the
    Gospel; but was offended at my reminding him of several things
    concerning it. On my offering him some money, which I saw he
    needed, he confessed his poverty; he was thankful for my little
    donation, and I repeated my advice of seeking divine
    consolation.

    _April 2._--Breakfasted with ----. Our conversation was on the
    most delightful subject to me, the spread of the Gospel in
    future ages. I went away animated and happy. Went with Mr. Grant
    towards the India House. He said that he was that day about to
    take the necessary steps for bringing forward the business of
    the chaplains, and that by to-morrow night I should know whether
    I could go or not. In prayer at night my soul panted after God,
    and longed to be entirely conformed to His image.

    _April 3._--After dinner, passed some time in prayer, and
    rejoiced to think that God would finally glorify Himself,
    whatever hindrance may arise for a time. Going to Mr. Grant's, I
    found that the chaplaincies had been agreed to, after two hours'
    debate, and some obloquy thrown upon Mr. Grant by the chairman,
    for his connection with Mr. Wilberforce and _those people_. Mr.
    G. said that though my nomination had not taken place, the case
    was now beyond danger, and that I should appear before the court
    in a couple of days in my canonicals. I felt very indignant at
    this, not so much, I think, from personal pride, as on account
    of the degradation of my office. Mr. G. pleasantly said, I must
    attend to my appearance, as I should be much remarked, on
    account of the person who had nominated me. I feel this will be
    a trial to me, which I would never submit to for gain; but I
    rejoice that it will be for my dear and blessed Lord.

    _April 4._--Went down to Cambridge.

    _April 6._--Passed most of the morning in the Fellows' garden.
    It was the last time I visited this favourite retreat, where I
    have often enjoyed the presence of God.

    _April 7._ (Sunday.)--Preached at Lolworth on Prov. xxii. 17;
    very few seemed affected at my leaving them, and those chiefly
    women. An old farmer of a neighbouring parish, as he was taking
    leave of me, turned aside to shed tears; this affected me more
    than anything. Rode away with my heart heavy, partly at my own
    corruption, partly at the thoughts of leaving this place in such
    general hardness of heart. Yet so it hath pleased God, I hope,
    to reserve them for a more faithful minister. Prayed over the
    whole of my sermon for the evening, and when I came to preach
    it, God assisted me beyond my hopes. Most of the younger people
    seemed to be in tears. The text was 2 Sam. vii. 28, 29. Took
    leave of Dr. Milner; he was much affected, and said himself his
    heart was full. Mr. Simeon commended me to God in prayer, in
    which he pleaded, amongst other things, for a richer blessing on
    my soul. He perceives that I want it, and so do I. Professor
    Parish walked home with me to the college gate, and there I
    parted from him, with no small sorrow.

    _April 8._--My young friends in the University, who have
    scarcely left me a moment to myself, were with me this morning
    as soon as I was moving, leaving me no time for prayer. My mind
    was very solemn, and I wished much to be left alone. A great
    many accompanied me to the coach, which took me up at the end of
    the town. It was a thick, misty morning, so the University, with
    its towers and spires, was out of sight in an instant.

    _April 24._--Keenly disappointed at finding no letter from
    Lydia; thus it pleased God, in the riches of His grace, to quash
    at once all my beginnings of entanglement. Oh, may it be to make
    me more entirely His own. 'The Lord shall be the portion of mine
    inheritance, and of my cup.' Oh, may I live indeed a more
    spiritual life of faith! Prayed that I might obtain a more deep
    acquaintance with the mysteries of the Gospel, and the offices
    of Christ; my soul was solemnised. Went to Russell Square, and
    found from Mr. Grant that I was that day appointed a chaplain
    to the East India Company, but that my particular destination
    would depend on the government in India. Rather may I say that
    it depends on the will of my God, who in His own time thus
    brings things to pass. Oh, now let my heart be spiritualised;
    that the glorious and arduous work before me may fill all my
    soul, and stir me up to prayer.

    _April 25._--Breakfasted with the venerable Mr. Newton, who made
    several striking remarks in reference to my work. He said he had
    heard of a clever gardener, who would sow the seeds when the
    meat was put down to roast, and engage to produce a salad by the
    time it was ready; but the Lord did not sow oaks in this way. On
    my saying that perhaps I should never live to see much fruit, he
    answered, I should have a bird's eye view of it, which would be
    better. When I spoke of the opposition that I should be likely
    to meet with, he said, he supposed Satan would not love me for
    what I was about to do. The old man prayed afterwards, with
    sweet simplicity. Drank tea at C. Our hearts seemed full of the
    joy which comes from the communion of saints.

    _April 26._--Met D. at Mr. Grant's, and was much affected at
    some marks of love expressed by the people at Cambridge, at the
    time of my leaving them. He said that as I was going down the
    aisle they all rose up to take their last view.

    _May 4._--Waiting this morning on the Archbishop of Canterbury
    at Lambeth Palace. He had learnt from somebody my circumstances,
    the degree I had taken, and my object in going to India. He
    spoke much on the importance of the work, the small
    ecclesiastical establishment for so great a body of people, and
    the state of those English there, who, he said, 'called
    themselves Christians.' He was throughout very civil, and wished
    me all the success I desired. I then proceeded to the India
    House, and received directions to attend on Wednesday to be
    sworn in. Afterwards walked to Mr. Wilberforce's at Broomfield.

    _May 8._--Reading Mr. Grant's book.[13] The state of the
    natives, and the prospects of doing good there, the character of
    Schwartz, &c., set forth in it, much impressed my mind, and I
    found great satisfaction in pleading for the fulfilment of God's
    promises to the heathen. It seemed painful to think of myself at
    all, except in reference to the Church of Christ. Being somewhat
    in danger of distraction this evening, from many concurrent
    circumstances, I found a very short prayer answered by my being
    kept steady. Heard from Mr. Parry this evening, that in
    consequence of an embargo laid on all the ships by government,
    who had taken the best seamen from the Company's ships, on
    account of the sailing of the French and Spanish fleets, I
    should not be able to go before the middle of June, if so soon.

    _May 15._--Read prayers at Mr. Newton's, and preached on Eph.
    ii. 19-21. The clerk threw out very disrespectful and even
    uncivil things respecting my going to India; though I thought
    the asperity and contemptuousness he manifested unsuitable to
    his profession, I felt happy in the comfortable assurance of
    being upright in my intentions. The sermon was much praised by
    some people coming in, but happily this gives me little
    satisfaction. Went home and read a sermon of Flavel's, on
    knowing nothing but Christ.

    _May 17._--Walked out, and continued in earnest striving with my
    corruption. I made a covenant with my eyes, which I kept
    strictly; though I was astonished to find the difficulty I had
    in doing even this.

    _May 22._--Endeavoured to guard my thoughts this morning in a
    more particular manner, as expecting to pass it, with Sargent,
    in prayer for assistance in the ministry. Called at Mr.
    Wilberforce's, when I met Mr. Babington. The extreme kindness
    and cordiality of these two was very pleasing to me, though
    rather elating. By a letter from B. to-day, learnt that two
    young men of Chesterton had come forward, who professed to have
    been awakened by a sermon of mine on Psalm ix. 17. I was not so
    affected with gratitude and joy as I expected to be; could not
    easily ascribe the glory to God; yet I will bless Him through
    all my ignorance that He has thus owned the ministry of one so
    weak. Oh, may I have faith to go onward, expecting to see
    miracles wrought by the foolishness of preaching. H., to whom I
    had made application for the loan which Major Sandys found it
    inconvenient to advance, dined with me, and surprised me by the
    difficulty he started. After dinner went to the India House to
    take leave. Mr. ----, the other chaplain, sat with me before we
    were called in, and I found that I knew a little of him, having
    been at his house. As he knew my character, I spoke very freely
    to him on the subject of religion. Was called in to take the
    oaths. All the directors were present, I think. Mr. Grant, in
    the chair, addressed a charge to us, extempore. One thing struck
    my attention, which was, that he warned us of the enervating
    effects of the climate.

    I felt more acutely than ever I did in my life the shame
    attending poverty. Nothing but the remembrance that I was not to
    blame supported me. Whatever comes to me in the way of
    Providence is, and must be, for my good.

    _May 30._--Went to the India House. Kept the covenant with my
    eyes pretty well. Oh, what bitter experience have I had to teach
    me carefulness against temptation! I have found this method,
    which I have sometimes had recourse to, useful to-day--namely,
    that of praying in ejaculations for any particular person whose
    appearance might prove an occasion of sinful thoughts. After
    asking of God that she might be as pure and beautiful in her
    mind and heart as in body, and be a temple of the Holy Ghost,
    consecrated to the service of God, for whose glory she was
    made, I dare not harbour a thought of an opposite tendency.

    _June 6._--How many temptations are there in the streets of
    London!

    _June 14._--Sent off all my luggage, as preparatory to its going
    on board. Dined at Mr. Cecil's; he endeavoured to correct my
    reading, but in vain. 'Brother M.,' says he, 'you are a humble
    man, and would gain regard in private life; but to gain public
    attention you must force yourself into a more marked and
    expressive manner.' Generally, to-night, have I been above the
    world; Lydia, and other comforts, I would resign.

    _June 16._--I thought it probable, from illness, that death
    might be at hand, and this was before me all the day; sometimes
    I was exceedingly refreshed and comforted at the thought, at
    other times I felt unwilling and afraid to die. Shed tears at
    night, at the thought of my departure, and the roaring sea, that
    would soon be rolling between me and all that is dear to me upon
    earth.

Mrs. T.M. Hitchins, his cousin's wife, having asked him for some of
his sermons, he replied:

                                              London: June 24, 1805.

    The arguments you offer to induce me seem not to possess that
    force which I look for in your reasoning. Sermons cannot be good
    memorials, because once read they are done with--especially a
    young man's sermons, unless they possess a peculiar simplicity
    and spirituality; which I need not say are qualities not
    belonging to mine. I hope, however, that I am improving and I
    trust that--now I am removed from the contagion of academic
    air--I am in the way of acquiring a greater knowledge of men and
    of my own heart--I shall exchange my jejune scholastic style for
    a simple spiritual exhibition of profitable truth. Mr. Cecil has
    been taking a great deal of pains with me. My insipid,
    inanimate manner in the pulpit, he says, is intolerable. Sir,
    said he, it is cupola-painting, not miniature, that must be the
    character of a man that harangues a multitude. Lieut. Wynter
    called on me last Saturday, and last night drank tea with me. I
    cannot but admire his great seriousness. I feel greatly attached
    to him. He is just the sort of person, of a sober thoughtful
    cast, that I love to associate with. He mentioned Lydia, I do
    not know why, but he could not tell me half enough about her,
    while she was at Plymouth, to satisfy my curiosity. Whitsun-week
    was a time of the utmost distress to me on her account. On the
    Monday at the Eclectic, Mr. Cecil, speaking of celibacy, said, I
    was acting like a madman in going out without a wife. So thought
    all the other ten or eleven ministers present, and Mr. Foster
    among the rest, who is unmarried. This opinion, coming
    deliberately from so many experienced ministers, threw me into
    great perplexity, which increased, as my affections began to be
    set more afloat, for then I was less able than before to discern
    the path of duty. At last I wrote to Simeon, stating to him the
    strongest arguments I heard in favour of marriage in my case.
    His answer decided my mind. He put it in this way. Is it
    necessary? To this I could answer, No. Then is it expedient? He
    here produced so many weighty reasons against its expediency,
    that I was soon satisfied in my mind. My turbulent will was,
    however, not so easily pacified. I was again obliged to undergo
    the severest pain in making that sacrifice which had cost me so
    dear before. Better had it been if those wounds had never been
    torn open. But now again, through the mercy of God, I am once
    more at peace. What cannot His power effect? The present wish of
    my heart is that there may be _never_ a necessity of marriage,
    so that I may henceforth have no one thing upon earth for which
    I would wish to stay another hour, except it be to serve the
    Lord my Saviour in the work of the ministry. Once more,
    therefore, I say to Lydia, and with her to all earthly schemes
    of happiness, Farewell. Let her live happy and useful in her
    present situation, since that is the will of God. How long these
    thoughts may continue, I cannot say. At times of indolence, or
    distress, or prevalent corruption, the former wishes, I suppose,
    will occur and renew my pain: but pray, my dear sister, that the
    Lord may keep in the imaginations of the thoughts of my heart
    all that may be for the glory of His great name. The only
    objection which presented itself to my advisers to marriage was
    the difficulty of finding a proper person to be the wife of a
    missionary. I told them that perhaps I should not have occasion
    to search a long time for one. Simeon knows all about Lydia. I
    think it very likely that he will endeavour to see her when she
    comes to town next winter.

    (_Addendum at the commencement, before the Address._)

    I never returned my acknowledgment for the little hymn book,
    which is a memento of both. It is just the sort of thing.
    Instead of sending the books I intended, I shall inclose in the
    tea-caddy a little _Pilgrim's Progress_ for you, and another for
    Lydia.

July 2 was spent with Corrie in prayer, and converse 'about the great
work among the heathen.' Martyn gave a final sitting for his miniature
for his sister, to 'the painter lady, who still repeated her infidel
cavils; having nothing more to say in the way of argument, I thought
it right to declare the threatenings of God to those who reject the
Gospel.' On the 8th he sat for his picture, for his friend Bates, to
Russel. After his farewell to Sargent, and riding back,

    Though I was in good health a moment before, yet as I was
    undressing I fainted and fell into a convulsive fit; I lost my
    senses for some time, and on recovering a little found myself
    in intense pain. Death appeared near at hand, and seemed
    somewhat different and more terrible than I could have conceived
    before, not in its conclusion, but in itself. I felt assured of
    my safety in Christ. Slept very little that night, from extreme
    debility. Tenth, I went to Portsmouth, where we arrived to
    breakfast, and find friends from Cambridge. Went with my things
    on board the Union at the Motherbank. Mr. Simeon read and prayed
    in the afternoon, thinking I was to go on board for the last
    time. Mr. Simeon first prayed, and then myself. On our way to
    the ship we sung hymns. The time was exceedingly solemn, and our
    hearts seemed filled with solemn joy.

As tidings from Lord Nelson were waited for, the fleet--consisting of
fifteen sail under convoy of the Belliqueuse, Captain Byng--went no
farther than Plymouth, and then anchored off Falmouth.

    The coast of Devonshire and Cornwall was passing before me. The
    memory of beloved friends, then, was very strong and
    affecting.... I was rather flurried at the singularity of this
    providence of God, in thus leading me once more to the bosom of
    all my friends.... I have thought with exceeding tenderness of
    Lydia to-day; how I long to see her; but if it be the Lord's
    will, He will open a way. I shall not take any steps to produce
    a meeting.

So he wrote on July 20. On the same day, the Rev. T.M. Hitchins wrote
to him, thus: 'Lydia, from whom we heard about ten days ago, is quite
well. She is much interested in your welfare.' Mrs. Hitchins wrote:
'Lydia, whom I heard lately from, is well, and never omits mentioning
you in her letters--and, I may venture to say, what you will value
still more, in her prayers also.' Martyn wrote to Mr. Hitchins on the
23rd: 'A great work lies before me, and I must submit to many
privations if I would see it accomplished. I should say, however, that
poverty is not one of the evils I shall have to encounter; the salary
of a chaplain, even at the lowest, is 600 rupees a month. Give my kind
love to mama--as also to Miss L. Grenfell.' A postscript to the letter
stated that the writer had taken his place in the coach for Marazion:
'Trust to pass some part of the morning at Miss Grenfell's.' He thus
records in his _Journal_ the interviews which resulted in what
amounted to a brief engagement:

    I arrived at Marazion in time for breakfast, and met my beloved
    Lydia. In the course of the morning I walked with her, though
    not uninterruptedly; with much confusion I declared my affection
    for her, with the intention of learning whether, if ever I saw
    it right in India to be married, she would come out; but she
    would not declare her sentiments, she said that the shortness of
    arrangement was an obstacle, even if all others were removed. In
    great tumult I walked up to St. Hilary, whence, after dining, I
    returned to Mr. Grenfell's, but, on account of the number of
    persons there, I had not an opportunity of being alone with
    Lydia. Went back to Falmouth with G. I was more disposed to talk
    of Lydia all the way, but roused myself to a sense of my duty,
    and addressed him on the subject of religion. The next day I was
    exceedingly melancholy at what had taken place between Lydia and
    myself, and at the thought of being separated from her. I could
    not bring myself to believe that God had settled the whole
    matter, because I was not willing to believe it.

                  TO MISS LYDIA GRENFELL, MARAZION

                             Union, Falmouth Harbour: July 27, 1805.

    ... As I was coming on board this morning, and reading Mr.
    Serle's hymn you wrote out for me, a sudden gust of wind blew
    it into the sea. I made the boatmen immediately heave to, and
    recovered it, happily without any injury except what it had
    received from the sea. I should have told you that the Morning
    Hymn, which I always kept carefully in my pocket-book, was one
    day stolen with it, and other valuable letters, from my rooms in
    college. It would be extremely gratifying to me to possess
    another copy of it, as it always reminded me most forcibly of
    the happy day on which we visited the aged saint. The fleet, it
    is said, will not sail for three weeks, but if you are willing
    to employ any of your time in providing me with this or any
    other manuscript hymns, the sooner you write them, the more
    certain I shall be of receiving them. Pardon me for thus
    intruding on your time; you will in no wise lose your reward.
    The encouragement conveyed in little compositions of this sort
    is more refreshing than a cup of cold water. The Lord of the
    harvest, who is sending forth me, who am most truly less than
    the least of all saints, will reward you for being willing to
    help forward even the meanest of His servants. The love which
    you bear to the cause of Christ, as well as motives of private
    friendship, will, I trust, induce you to commend me to God, and
    to the word of His grace, at those sacred moments when you
    approach the throne of our covenant God. To His gracious care I
    commend you. May you long live happy and holy, daily growing
    more meet for the inheritance of the saints in light. I remain,
    with affectionate regard, yours most truly,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

    _July 28._--(Sunday.)--Preached in the morning, on board, on
    John iii. 3. In the afternoon, at Falmouth Church, on 1 Cor. i.
    20 to 26.

    _July 29._--My gloom returned. Walked to Lamorran; alternately
    repining at my dispensation, and giving it up to the Lord.
    Sometimes--after thinking of Lydia for a long time together, so
    as to feel almost outrageous at being deprived of her--my soul
    would feel its guilt, and flee again to God. I was much relieved
    at intervals by learning the hymn, 'The God of Abraham praise.'

The lady's _Diary_ has these passages, which show that her sister,
Mrs. Hitchins, had rightly represented the state of her heart as not
altogether refusing to return Martyn's affection:

    _1805, July 25._--I was surprised this morning by a visit from
    H.M., and have passed the day chiefly with him. The distance he
    is going, and the errand he is going on, rendered his society
    particularly interesting. I felt as if bidding a final adieu to
    him in this world, and all he said was as the words of one on
    the borders of eternity. May I improve the opportunity I have
    enjoyed of Christian converse, and may the Lord moderate the
    sorrow I feel at parting with so valuable and excellent
    friend--some pains have attended it, known only to God and
    myself. Thou God, that knowest them, canst alone give
    comfort.... Oh, may we each pursue our different paths, and meet
    at last around our Father's throne; may we often meet now in
    spirit, praying and obtaining blessings for each other. Now, my
    soul, return to God, the author of them.

    _July 26._--Oh, how this day has passed away! Nothing done to
    any good purpose. Lord, help me! I feel Thy loved presence
    withdrawn; I feel departing from Thee. Oh, let Thy mercy pardon,
    let Thy love succour, me. Deliver me from this temptation, set
    my soul at liberty, and I will praise Thee. I know the cause of
    all this darkness, this depression; dare I desire what Thou dost
    plainly, by the voice of Thy providence, condemn? O Lord, help
    me to conquer my natural feelings, help me to be watchful as Thy
    child. Oh, leave me not; or I fall a prey to this corroding
    care. Let me cast every care on Thee.

    _Gurlyn, July 30._--Blessed Lord, I thank Thee for affording me
    the retirement I so much delight in; here I enjoy freedom from
    all the noise and interruption of a town. Oh, may the Lord
    sanctify this pleasure. Oh, may it prove the means of benefiting
    my soul. Oh, may I watch against the intrusions of vain
    thoughts; else, instead of an advantage, I shall find solitude
    ruinous to my soul.

    _August 4._--This evening my soul has been pained with many
    fears concerning an absent friend, yet the Lord sweetly supports
    me, and is truly a refuge to me. It is a stormy and tempestuous
    night; the stillness and retirement of this place add to the
    solemnity of the hour. I hear the voice of God in every
    blast--it seems to say, 'Sin has brought storm and tempest on a
    guilty world.' O my Father and my God, Thou art righteous in all
    Thy judgments, merciful in all Thy ways. I would humbly trust in
    Thee, and confide all who are dear to me into Thy hands. The
    anxieties of nature, the apprehensions of affection, do Thou
    regulate, and make me acquiesce in whatever is Thy will.

    _August 5._--My mind is relieved to-day by hearing the fleet, in
    which I thought my friend had sailed, has not left the port. Oh,
    how frequently do unnecessary pains destroy our peace. Lord,
    look on me to-night, pardon my sins and make me more watchful
    and fight against my inward corruption. Oh, it is a state of
    conflict indeed!

He thus wrote to Mrs. Hitchins:

                                            Falmouth: July 30, 1805.

    'My dearest Cousin,--I am exceedingly rejoiced at being
    permitted to send you one more letter, as the former, if it had
    been the last, would have left, I fear, a painful impression on
    your mind. It pleased God to restore peace to my mind soon after
    I came on board--as I thought--finally. I was left more alone
    with God, and found blessed seasons of intercourse with Him. But
    when your letter came, I found it so sympathising, so
    affectionate, that my heart was filled with joy and thankfulness
    to God for such a dear friend, and I could not refrain from
    bowing my knees immediately to pray that God might bless all
    your words to the good of my soul, and bless you for having
    written them. My views of the respective importance of things
    continue, I hope, to rectify. The shortness of time, the
    precious value of immortal souls, and the plain command of
    Christ, all conspire to teach me that Lydia must be
    resigned--and for ever--for though you suggest the possibility
    of my hereafter returning and being united to her, I rather wish
    to beware of looking forward to anything in this life as the end
    or reward of my labours. It would be a temptation to me to
    return before being necessitated. The rest which remaineth for
    the people of God is in another world, where they neither marry
    nor are given in marriage. But while I thus reason, still a sigh
    will ever and anon escape me at the thought of a final
    separation from her. In the morning when I rise, before prayer
    puts grace into exercise, there is generally a very heavy gloom
    on my spirits--and a distaste for everything in earth or heaven.
    You do not seem to suppose that any objection would remain in
    her mind, if I should return and other obstacles were
    removed--which opinion of yours is, no doubt, very pleasing to
    me--but if there _were_ anything more than friendship, do you
    think it at all likely she could have spoken and written to me
    as she has? However, do not suppose from this that I wish to
    hear from you anything more on this subject--in the hope of
    being gratified with an assurance to the contrary. I cannot tell
    what induced me to take my leave of the people in the west when
    I was last there, as it was so probable we should be detained;
    were it not for having bid them adieu, I believe I should pay
    them another visit--only that I could not do it without being
    with Lydia again, which might not perhaps answer any good
    purpose, and more probably would renew the pain.

    If, in India, I should be persuaded of the expediency of
    marriage, you perceive that I can do nothing less than make her
    the offer, or rather propose the sacrifice. It would be almost
    cruel and presumptuous in me to make such an application to her,
    especially as she would be induced by a sense of duty rather
    than personal attachment. But what else can be done? Should she
    not, then, be warned of my intention--before I go? If you
    advance no objection, I shall write a letter to her,
    notwithstanding her prohibition. When this is done no further
    step remains to be taken, that I know of. The shortness of our
    acquaintance, which she made a ground of objection, cannot now
    be remedied.

    The matter, as it stands, must be left with God--and I do leave
    it with Him very cheerfully. I pray that hereafter I may not be
    tempted to follow my will, and mistake it for God's--to fancy I
    am called to marriage, when I ought to remain single--and you
    will likewise pray, my dear cousin, that my mind may be always
    under a right direction.

His _Journal_ thus continues:

    _July 31._--Went on board this morning in extreme anguish. I
    could not help saying, 'Lord, it is not a sinful attachment in
    itself, and therefore I may commune more freely with Thee about
    it.' I sought for hymns suitable to my case, but none did
    sufficiently; most complained of spiritual distress, but mine
    was not from any doubt of God's favour, for I felt no doubt of
    that.

    _August 1._--Rose in great anguish of mind, but prayer relieved
    me a little. The wind continuing foul, I went ashore after
    breakfast; but before this, sat down to write to Lydia, hoping
    to relieve the burden of my mind. I wrote in great turbulence,
    but in a little time my tumult unaccountably subsided, and I
    enjoyed a peace to which I have been for some time a stranger. I
    felt exceedingly willing to leave her, and to go on my way
    rejoicing. I could not account for this, except by ascribing it
    to the gracious influence of God. The first few Psalms were
    exceedingly comfortable to me. Received a letter this evening
    from Emma, and received it as from God; I was animated before,
    but this added tenfold encouragement. She warned me, from
    experience, of the carefulness it would bring upon me; but spoke
    with such sympathy and tenderness, that my heart was quite
    refreshed. I bowed my knees to bless and adore God for it, and
    devoted myself anew to His beloved service. Went on board at
    night; the sea ran high, but I felt a sweet tranquillity in Him
    who stilleth the raging of the sea. I was delighted to find that
    the Lascars understood me perfectly when I spoke to them a
    sentence or two in Hindustani.

    _August 5._--Went ashore. Walked to Pendennis garrison; enjoyed
    some happy reflections as I sat on one of the ramparts, looking
    at the ships and sea.

    _August 7._--Preached at Falmouth Church, on Psalm iii. 1, with
    much comfort; after church, set off to walk to St. Hilary.
    Reached Helston in three hours in extraordinary spirits. The joy
    of my soul was very great. Every object around me called forth
    praise and gratitude to God. Perhaps it might have been joy at
    the prospect of seeing Lydia, but I asked myself at the time,
    whether out of love to God I was willing to turn back and see
    her no more. I persuaded myself that I could. But perhaps had I
    been put to the trial, it would have been otherwise. I arrived
    safe at St. Hilary, and passed the evening agreeably with R.
    8th. Enjoyed much of the presence of God in morning prayer. The
    morning passed profitably in writing on Heb. ii. 3. My soul
    seemed to breathe seriously after God. Walked down with R. to
    Gurlyn to call on Lydia. She was not at home when we called, so
    I walked out to meet her. When I met her coming up the hill, I
    was almost induced to believe her more interested about me than
    I had conceived. Went away in the expectation of visiting her
    frequently. Called on my way (from Falmouth) at Gurlyn. My mind
    not in peace; at night in prayer, my soul was much overwhelmed
    with fear, which caused me to approach God in fervent petition,
    that He would make me perfectly upright, and my walk consistent
    with the high character I am called to assume.

    _August 10._--Rose very early, with uneasiness increased by
    seeing the wind northerly; walked away at seven to Gurlyn,
    feeling little or no pleasure at the thought of seeing Lydia;
    apprehension about the sailing of the fleet made me dreadfully
    uneasy; was with Lydia a short time before breakfast; afterwards
    I read the 10th Psalm, with Horne's Commentary, to her and her
    mother; she was then just putting into my hand the 10th of
    Genesis to read when a servant came in, and said a horse was
    come for me from St. Hilary, where a carriage was waiting to
    convey me to Falmouth. All my painful presentiments were thus
    realised, and it came upon me like a thunderbolt. Lydia was
    evidently painfully affected by it; she came out, that we might
    be alone at taking leave, and I then told her, that if it should
    appear to be God's will that I should be married, she must not
    be offended at receiving a letter from me. In the great hurry
    she discovered more of her mind than she intended; she made no
    objection whatever to coming out. Thinking, perhaps, I wished to
    make an engagement with her, she said we had better go quite
    free; with this I left her, not knowing yet for what purpose I
    have been permitted, by an unexpected providence, to enjoy these
    interviews. I galloped back to St. Hilary, and instantly got
    into a chaise with Mr. R., who had been awaked by the signal gun
    at five in the morning, and had come for me. At Hildon I got a
    horse, with which I rode to Falmouth, meeting on the road
    another express sent after me by R. I arrived about twelve, and
    instantly went on board; almost all the other ships were under
    weigh, but the Union had got entangled in the chains. The
    commodore expressed his anger as he passed, at this delay, but
    I blessed the Lord, who had thus saved His poor creature from
    shame and trouble. How delusive are schemes of pleasure; at nine
    in the morning I was sitting at ease, with the person dearest to
    me on earth, intending to go out with her afterwards to see the
    different views, to visit some persons with her, and to preach
    on the morrow; four hours only elapsed, and I was under sail
    from England! The anxiety to get on board, and the joy I felt at
    not being left behind, absorbed other sorrowful considerations
    for a time; wrote several letters as soon as I was on board.
    When I was left a little at leisure, my spirits began to sink;
    yet how backward was I to draw near to my God. I found relief
    occasionally, yet still was slow to fly to this refuge of my
    weary soul. Was meditating on a subject for to-morrow. As more
    of the land gradually appeared behind the Lizard, I watched with
    my spy-glass for the Mount (St. Michael's), but in consequence
    of lying to for the purser, and thus dropping astern of the
    fleet, night came on before we weathered the point. Oh, let not
    my soul be deceived and distracted by these foolish vanities,
    but now that I am actually embarked in Christ's cause, let a
    peculiar unction rest upon my soul, to wean me from the world,
    and to inspire me with ardent zeal for the good of souls.

                       TO MISS LYDIA GRENFELL

                                   Union, Falmouth: August 10, 1805.

    My dear Miss Lydia,--It will perhaps be some satisfaction to
    yourself and your mother, to know that I was in time. Our ship
    was entangled in the chain, and was by that means the only one
    not under weigh when I arrived. It seems that most of the people
    on board had given me up, and did not mean to wait for me. I
    cannot but feel sensibly this instance of Divine mercy in thus
    preserving me from the great trouble that would have attended
    the loss of my passage. Mount's Bay will soon be in sight, and
    recall you all once more to my affectionate remembrance.... I
    bid you a long Farewell. God ever bless you, and help you
    sometimes to intercede for me.

                                                          H. MARTYN.

The lady alludes thus, in her _Diary_, to these events, in language
which confesses her love, as she did not again confess it till after
his death:[14]

    _August 8._--I was surprised again to-day by a visit from my
    friend, Mr. Martyn, who, contrary to every expectation, is
    detained, perhaps weeks longer. I feel myself called on to act
    decisively--oh how difficult and painful a part--Lord, assist
    me. I desire to be directed by Thy wisdom, and to follow
    implicitly what appears Thy will. May we each consider Thy
    honour as entrusted to us, and resolve, whatever it may cost us,
    to seek Thy glory and do Thy will. O Lord, I feel myself so weak
    that I would fain fly from the trial. My hope is in Thee--do
    Thou strengthen me, help me to seek, to know, and resolutely to
    do, Thy will, and that we may be each divinely influenced, and
    may principle be victorious over feeling. Thou, blessed Spirit,
    aid, support, and guide us. Now may we be in the armour of God,
    now may we flee from temptation. O blessed Jesus, leave me not,
    forsake me not.

    _August 9._--What a day of conflict has this been! I was much
    blessed, as if to prepare me for it, in the morning, and
    expected to see my friend, and hoped to have acted with
    Christian resolution. At Tregembo I learnt he had been called on
    by express last night. The effect this intelligence had on me
    shows how much my affections are engaged. O Lord, I lament it, I
    wonder at myself, I tremble at what may be before me--but do
    not, O Lord, forsake me. The idea of his going, when at parting
    I behaved with greater coolness and reserve than I ever did
    before, was a distress I could hardly bear, and I prayed the
    Lord to afford me an opportunity of doing away the impression
    from his mind. I saw no possibility of this--imagining the fleet
    must have sailed--when, to my astonishment, I learnt from our
    servant that he had called again this evening, and left a
    message that he would be here to-morrow. Oh, I feel less able
    than ever to conceal my real sentiments, and the necessity of
    doing it does not so much weigh with me. O my soul, pause,
    reflect--thy future happiness, and his too, the glory of God,
    the peace of my dear mother--all are concerned in what may pass
    to-morrow; I can only look and pray to be directed aright.

    _August 10._--Much have I to testify of supporting grace this
    day, and of what I must consider Divine interference in my
    favour, and that of my dear friend, who is now gone to return no
    more. My affections are engaged past recalling, and the anguish
    I endured yesterday, from an apprehension that I had treated him
    with coolness, exceeds my power to express; but God saw it, and
    kindly ordered it that he should come and do away the idea from
    my mind. It contributed likewise to my peace, and I hope to his,
    that it is clearly now understood between us that he is free to
    marry where he is going, and I have felt quite resigned to the
    will of God in this, and shall often pray the Lord to find him a
    suitable partner.

    Went to meeting in a comfortable frame, but the intelligence
    brought me there--that the fleet had probably sailed without my
    friend--so distressed and distracted my mind, that I would
    gladly have exchanged my feelings of yesterday for those I was
    now exercised with; yet in prayer I found relief, and in
    appealing to God. How unsought by me was his coming here. I
    still felt anxiety beyond all expression to hear if he arrived
    in time or not. Oh, not for all the world could offer me would I
    he should lose his passage!--yet stay, my soul, recollect
    thyself, are not all events at the Lord's disposal? Are not the
    steps of a good man ordered by the Lord? Cast then this burden
    on Him who carest for thee, my soul. Oh, let not Thy name, great
    God, be blasphemed through us--surely we desire to glorify it
    above all things, and would sacrifice everything to do so; enter
    then my mind this night, and let me in every dark providence
    trust in the Lord.

    _August 11._--A day of singular mercies. O my soul, how should
    the increasing goodness of God engage thee to serve Him with
    more zeal and ardour. I had a comfortable season in prayer
    before breakfast, enjoying sweet liberty of spirit before God my
    Saviour, God, the sinner's friend and helper. Went to church,
    but could get no comfort from the sermon; the service I found in
    some parts quickening. On my return I found a letter from my
    excellent friend, dated on board the Union. Oh, what a relief to
    my mind! By a singular providence this ship was prevented
    sailing by getting entangled in the chain; every other belonging
    to the fleet was under weigh when he reached Falmouth, and his
    friends there had given over the hope of his arriving in time.
    Doth not God care for His people, and order everything, even the
    most trifling, that concerns them? The fleet must not sail till
    the man of God joined it;--praised be the name of the Lord for
    this instance of His watchful care. And now, my soul, turn to
    God, thy rest. Oh, may the remembrance of my dear friend, whilst
    it is cherished as it ought, be no hindrance to my progress in
    grace and holiness. May God alone fill my thoughts, and may my
    regard for my friend be sanctified, and be a means of
    stimulating me to press forward, and animate me in devoting
    myself entirely to God. Lord, I would unfeignedly adore Thee for
    all the instances of Thy loving kindness to me this week. I have
    had many remarkable answers to prayer, many proofs that the Lord
    watches over me, unworthy as I am. O Divine Saviour, how shall I
    praise Thee? Walked this evening to a little meeting at Thirton
    Wood. I was greatly refreshed and comforted. Oh, what a support
    in time of trouble is the Lord God of Israel! I am about
    retiring to rest--oh, may my thoughts upon my bed be solemn and
    spiritual. The remembrance of my dear friend is at times
    attended with feelings most painful, and yet, when I consider
    why he is gone, and Whom he is serving, every burden is removed,
    and I rejoice on his account, and rejoice that the Lord has such
    a faithful servant employed in the work. Oh, may I find grace
    triumphant over every feeling of my heart. Come, Lord Jesus, and
    dwell with me.

    _August 12._--Passed a sweet, peaceful day, enjoying much of His
    presence whose favour giveth life, and joy, and peace. Visited
    several of the poor near me, and found ability to speak freely
    and feelingly to them of the state of their souls. My dear
    absent friend is constantly remembered by me, but I find not his
    remembrance a hindrance to my soul in following after God--no,
    rather does it stimulate me in my course. Thus hath the Lord
    answered my prayers, as it respects myself, that our regard
    might be a sanctified one. Oh, bless the Lord, my soul, for
    ever! praise Him in cheerful lays from day to day, and hope
    eternally to do so.

    _August 13._--Awoke early and had a happy season. Visited a poor
    old man in great poverty, whose mind seemed disposed to receive
    instruction, and in some measure enlightened to know his sinful
    state and need of Christ; I found it a good time whilst with
    him. This evening my spirits are depressed; my absent friend is
    present to my remembrance, possessing more than common
    sensibility and affection. What must his sufferings be? but God
    is sufficient for him. He that careth for the falling sparrow
    will not forget him--this is my never-failing source of
    consolation.

    _August 15._--My soul has been cold in duties to-day. Oh, for
    the spirit of devotion! Great are the things God has wrought for
    me; oh, let these great things suitably impress my soul. I have
    had many painful reflections to-day respecting my absent friend,
    fearing whether I may not be the occasion of much sorrow to him
    and possibly of hindering him in the work. I could not do such
    violence to my feelings as to treat him with reserve and
    distance, yet, in his circumstances, I think I ought to. O Lord,
    if in this I have offended, forgive me, and oh, do away from his
    mind every improper remembrance of me. Help me to cast my cares
    on Thee to-night, and help me with peace.

    _Marazion, September 2._--My mind has been exercised with many
    painful anxieties about my dear friend, but I have poured out my
    soul to God, and am relieved; I have left my sorrows with Him.
    Isaiah (41st chapter) has comforted me. Oh, what pleasure did
    that permission give me when my heart was overburdened to-day.
    'Produce your cause'--what a privilege to come to God as a
    friend. I disclose those feelings to Him I have no power to any
    earthly friend. Those I could say most to seem to avoid the
    subject that occupies my mind; I have been wounded by their
    silence, yet I do not imagine them indifferent or unconcerned.
    It is well for me they have seemed to be so, for it has made me
    more frequent at a throne of grace, and brought me more
    acquainted with God as a friend who will hear all my complaints.
    Oh, how sweet to approach Him, through Christ, as my God. 'Fear
    not,' He says, 'for I am with you: be not dismayed, I am thy
    God, I will strengthen thee, yea (O blessed assurance!) I will
    help thee, yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of My
    righteousness;' and so I find it--glory be to God! Lord, hear
    the frequent prayers I offer for Thy dear servant, sanctify our
    mutual regard; may it continue through eternity, flowing from
    our love to Thee.

    _September 3._--Still no letters from Stoke, and no intelligence
    whether the fleet has sailed--this is no small exercise of my
    patience, but at times I feel a sweet complacency in saying,
    'Thou art my portion, O Lord.' I have often felt happy in saying
    this, but it is in a season such as this, when creature comforts
    fail, that we may know whether we are sincere in saying so. Ah!
    how do we imperceptibly cleave to earth, and how soon withdraw
    our affections from God. I am sensible mine would never fix on
    Him but by His own power effecting it. I rest on Thy power, O
    God most high, retired from human observation.

When the commodore opened his sealed despatches off the Lizard, it was
found that the fleet was to linger still longer at Cork, whence Henry
Martyn wrote again to Lydia's sister, Mrs. Hitchins. On Sunday, when
becalmed in Mount's Bay, and he would have given anything to have been
ashore preaching at Marazion or St. Hilary, he had taken for his text
Hebrews xi. 16: 'But now they desire a better country, that is, an
heavenly.'

                                      Cork Harbour: August 19, 1805.

    The beloved objects were still in sight, and Lydia I knew was
    about that time at St. Hilary, but every wave bore me farther
    and farther from them. I introduced what I had to say by
    observing that we had now bid adieu to England, and its shores
    were dying away from the view. The female part of my audience
    were much affected, but I do not know that any were induced to
    seek the better country. The Mount continued in sight till five
    o'clock, when it disappeared behind the western boundary of the
    bay. Amidst the extreme gloom of my mind this day I found great
    comfort in interceding earnestly for my beloved friends all over
    England. If you have heard from Marazion since Sunday, I should
    be curious to know whether the fleet was observed passing....

    We are now in the midst of a vast number of transports filled
    with troops. It is now certain from our coming here that we are
    to join in some expedition, probably the Cape of Good Hope, or
    the Brazils; anywhere for me so long as the Lord goes with me.
    If it should please God to send me another letter from you,
    which I scarcely dare hope, do not forget to tell me as much as
    you can about Lydia. I cannot write to her, or I should find the
    greatest relief and pleasure even in transmitting upon paper the
    assurances of my tenderest love.

                                      Cove of Cork: August 28, 1805.

    My dearest Cousin,--I have but a few minutes to say that we are
    again going to sea--under convoy of five men of war. Very
    anxiously have I been expecting to receive an answer to the
    letter I sent you on my arrival at this port, bearing date
    August 16; from the manner in which I had it conveyed to the
    post-office, I begin to fear it has never reached you. I have
    this instant received the letter you wrote me the day on which
    we sailed from Falmouth. Everything from you gives me the
    greatest pleasure, but this letter has rather tended to excite
    sentiments of pain as well as pleasure. I fear my proceedings
    have met with your disapprobation, and have therefore been
    wrong--since it is more probable you should judge impartially
    than myself.

    I am now fully of opinion that, were I convinced of the
    expediency of marriage, I ought not in conscience to propose it,
    while the obstacle of S.J. remains. Whatever others have said, I
    think that Lydia acts no more than consistently by persevering
    in her present determination. I confess, therefore, that till
    this obstacle is removed my path is perfectly clear, and,
    blessed be God! I feel very, very happy in all that my God shall
    order concerning me. Let me suffer privation, and sorrow and
    death, if I may by these tribulations enter into the kingdom of
    God. Since we have been lying here I have been enjoying a peace
    almost uninterrupted. The Spirit of adoption has been drawing me
    near to God, and giving me the full assurance of His love. My
    prayer is continually that I may be more deeply and habitually
    convinced of His unchanging, everlasting love, and that my whole
    soul may be altogether in Christ. The Lord teaches me to desire
    Christ for my all in all--to long to be encircled in His
    everlasting arms, to be swallowed up in the fulness of His love.
    Surely the soul is happy that thus bathes in a medium of love. I
    wish no created good, but to be one with Him and to be living
    for my Saviour and Lord. Oh, may it be my constant care to live
    free from the spirit of bondage, and at all times have access to
    the Father. This I now feel, my beloved cousin, should be our
    state--perfect reconciliation with God, perfect appropriation of
    Him in all His endearing attributes, according to all that He
    has promised. This shall bear us safely through the storm. Oh,
    how happy are we in being introduced to such high privileges!
    You and my dear brother, and Lydia, I rejoice to think, are
    often praying for me and interested about me. I have, of course,
    much more time and leisure to intercede for you than you for
    me--and you may be assured I do not fail to employ my superior
    opportunities in your behalf. Especially is it my prayer that
    the mind of my dear cousin, formed as it is by nature and by
    grace for higher occupations, may not be rendered uneasy by the
    employments and cares of this.

Hearing nothing accurately of the India fleet after its departure from
Mount's Bay, Lydia Grenfell thus betrayed to herself and laid before
God her loving anxiety:

    _1805, September 24._--Have I not reason ever, and in all
    things, to trust and bless God? O my soul, why dost thou yield
    to despondency? why art thou disquieted? O my soul, put thy
    trust in God, assured that thou shalt yet praise Him, who is the
    help of thy countenance and thy God in Christ Jesus. My mind is
    under considerable anxiety, arising from the uncertainty of my
    dear friend's situation, and an apprehension of his being ill.
    Oh, how soon is my soul filled with confusion! yet I find repose
    for it in the love of Jesus--oh, let me then raise my eyes to
    Him, and may His love be shed abroad in my heart; make me in all
    things resigned to Thy will, to trust and hope and rejoice in
    Thee.

    _November 1._--My dear absent friend has too much occupied my
    thoughts and affections, and broken my peace--but Jesus reigns
    in providence and grace, and He does all things well. Yes, in my
    best moments I can rejoice in believing this, but too often I
    yield to unbelieving fears and discouragements. The thought that
    we shall meet no more sinks at times my spirits, yet I would say
    and feel submissive--Thy will be done. Choose for my motto, on
    entering my thirty-first year, this Scripture: 'Our days on the
    earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding.'

    _November 4._--I think of my friend, but blessed be God for not
    suffering my regard to lead me from Himself.

    _November 16._--I have been employed to-day in a painful manner,
    writing[15] (perhaps for the last time) to too dear a friend. I
    have to bless God for keeping me composed whilst doing so, and
    for peace of mind since, arising from a conviction that I have
    done right; and oh, that I may now be enabled to turn my thought
    from all below to that better world where my soul hopes
    eternally to dwell. Blessed Lord Jesus, be my strength and
    shield. Oh, let not the enemy harass me, nor draw my affections
    from Thee.

    _November 17._--Felt great depression of spirits to-day, from
    the improbability of ever seeing H.M. return. I feel it
    necessary to fly to God, praying for submission to His will, and
    to rest assured of the wisdom and love of this painful event. O
    my soul, rise from these cares, look beyond the boundary of
    time. Oh, cheering prospect, in that blest world where my
    Redeemer lives I shall regain every friend I love--with
    Christian love again. Be resigned then, my soul, Jesus is thine,
    and He does all things well.

FOOTNOTES:

[10] Deposited by Henry Martyn Jeffery, Esq., in the Truro Museum of
the Royal Institution, where the MS. may be consulted.

[11] Hitherto unpublished. We owe the copy of this significant letter
to the courtesy of H.M. Jeffery, Esq., F.R.S., for whom Canon Moor, of
St. Clement's, near Truro, procured it from the friend to whom Mrs.
T.M. Hitchins had given it.

[12] _Essays in Ecclesiastical Biography._

[13] The _Observations on the State of Society among the Asiatic
Subjects of Great Britain_, written in 1792.

[14] The parallel between Henry Martyn and David Brainerd, so close as
to spiritual experience and missionary service, hereditary consumption
and early death, is even more remarkable in their hopeless but
purifying love. Brainerd was engaged to Jerusha, younger daughter of
the great Jonathan Edwards. 'Dear Jerusha, are you willing to part
with me?' said the dying missionary on October 4, 1747.... 'If I
thought I should not see you and be happy with you in another world, I
could not bear to part with you. But we shall spend a happy eternity
together!' See J.M. Sherwood's edition (1885) of the _Memoirs of Rev.
David Brainerd_, prefaced by Jonathan Edwards, D.D., p. 340.

[15] This letter never reached its destination, but was captured in
the Bell Packet.



CHAPTER III

THE NINE MONTHS' VOYAGE--SOUTH AMERICA--SOUTH AFRICA, 1805-1806


The East India fleet had been detained off Ireland 'for fear of
immediate invasion, in which case the ships might be of use.' The
young chaplain was kept busy enough in his own and the other vessels.
In one of these, the Ann, there was a mutiny. Another, the Pitt, was a
Botany Bay ship, carrying out 120 female convicts. Thanks to Charles
Simeon, he was able to supply all with Bibles and religious books. But
even on board his own transport, the Union, the captain would allow
only one service on the Sabbath, and denied permission to preach to
the convicts. The chaplain's ministrations between decks were
continued daily, amid the indifference and even opposition of all save
a few.

At last, on August 31, 1805, the Indiamen of the season and fifty
transports sailed out of the Cove of Cork under convoy of the Diadem,
64 guns, the Belliqueuse, 64 guns, the Leda and Narcissus frigates, on
a voyage which, after two months since lifting the anchor at
Portsmouth, lasted eight and a half months to Calcutta. The Union had
H.M. 59th Regiment on board. Of its officers and men, and of the East
India Company's cadets and the officers commanding them, he succeeded
in inducing only five to join him in daily worship. His own presence
and this little gathering caused the vessel to be known in the fleet
as 'the praying ship.' The captain died during the voyage to the Cape.
One of the ships was wrecked, the Union narrowly escaping the same
fate. Martyn's _Journal_ reveals an amount of hostility to himself and
of open scoffing at his message which would be impossible now. He fed
his spirit with the Word of God, which he loved to expound to others.
Leighton, especially the too little known _Rules for Holy Living_, was
ever in his hands. Augustine and Ambrose delighted him, also Hooker,
Baxter, Jonathan Edwards, and Flavel, which he read to any who would
listen, while he spoke much to the Mohammedan Lascars. He worked hard
at Hindustani, Bengali, and Portuguese. Not more faithfully reflected
in his _Journal_ than the tedium of the voyage and the often
blasphemous opposition of his fellows are, all unconsciously, his own
splendid courage, his untiring faithfulness even when down with
dysentery and cough, his watchful prayerfulness, his longing for the
spread of Christ's kingdom. As the solitary young saint paced the deck
his thoughts, too, were with the past--with Lydia, in a way which,
even he felt, did not leave him indisposed for communion with God.
From Funchal, Madeira, he wrote to Lydia's sister: 'God knows how
dearly I love you, and Lydia and Sally (his younger sister), and all
His saints in England, yet I bid you all an everlasting farewell
almost without a sigh.' His motto throughout the voyage was the
sentence in which Milner characterises the first Christians:

              'TO BELIEVE, TO SUFFER, AND TO LOVE.'

Meanwhile Lydia Grenfell was thus committing to her _Diary_ these
melancholy longings:

    _November 22._--Yesterday brought me most pleasing intelligence
    from my dear friend, for which I have and do thank Thee, O Lord
    my God. He assures us of his being well, and exceedingly
    happy--oh, may he continue so. I have discovered that insensibly
    I have indulged the hope of his return, which this letter has
    seemed to lessen. I see it is my duty to familiarise my mind to
    the idea of our separation being for ever, with what feelings
    the thought is admitted, the Lord--whose will I desire therein
    to be done--only knows, and I find it a blessed relief to look
    to Him for comfort. I can bear testimony to this, that the Lord
    does afford me the needful support. I have been favoured much
    within this day or two, and seem, if I may trust to present
    feelings, to be inspired to ask the Lord's sovereign will and
    pleasure concerning me and him. I look forward to our meeting
    only in another state of existence, and oh, how pure, how
    exalted will be our affection then! here it is mixed with much
    evil, many pains, and great anxieties. Hasten, O Lord, Thy
    coming, and fit me for it and for the society of Thy saints in
    light. I desire more holiness, more of Christ in my soul, more
    of His likeness. Oh, to be filled with all Thy fulness, to be
    swallowed up in Thee!

    _November 23._--Too much has my mind been occupied to-day with a
    subject which must for ever interest me. O Lord, have mercy on
    me! help can only come from Thee. Let Thy blessed Word afford me
    relief; let the aids of Thy Spirit be vouchsafed. Restore to me
    the joys of Thy salvation.

    _November 24._--Passed a night of little sleep, my mind
    restless, confused, and unhappy. In vain did I endeavour to fix
    my thoughts on spiritual things, and to drive away those
    distressing fears of what may befall my dear friend. Blessed for
    ever be the Lord that on approaching His mercy-seat, through the
    blood of Jesus, I found peace, rest, and an ability to rely on
    God for all things. I have through the day enjoyed a sense of
    the Divine presence, and a blessed nearness to the Lord.
    To-night I am favoured with a sweet calmness; I seem to have no
    desire to exert myself. O Lord, animate, refresh my fainting
    soul. I see how dangerous it is to admit any worldly object into
    the heart, and how prone mine is to idolatry, for whatever has
    the preference, that to God is an idol. Alas! my thoughts, my
    first and last thoughts, are now such as prove that God cannot
    be said to have the supreme place in my affections; yet, blessed
    be His name, I can resign myself and all my concerns to His
    disposal, and this is my heart's desire. Thy will be done.

    _December 11._--I seem reconciled to all before me, and consider
    the Lord must have some great and wise purposes to answer by
    suffering my affections to be engaged in the degree they are. If
    it is only to exercise my submission to His will, and to make me
    more acquainted with His power to support and comfort me, it
    will be a great end answered, and oh, may I welcome all He
    appoints for this purpose. The mysteries of Providence are
    unfathomable. The event must disclose them, and in this I desire
    to make up my mind from henceforth no more to encourage the
    least expectation of meeting my dear friend in this world. O
    Lord, when the desire is so strong, how impossible is it for me
    to do this; but Thou art able to strengthen me for it. Oh,
    vouchsafe the needful help.

    _December 16._--I have had many distressing feelings to-day, and
    struggled with my heart, which is at times rent, I may say, by
    the reflection that I have bidden adieu for ever in this life to
    so dear a friend; but the blessed employment the Lord has
    assisted me in, and the thought that he is serving my blessed
    Lord Jesus, is most consolatory. Oh, may I never more seek to
    draw him back from the work. Lord, Thou knowest all things, Thou
    knowest that I would not do this.

    _December 26._--Went early to St. Hilary, where I had an
    opportunity of reading the excellent prayers of our Church. I
    have been blest with sweet peace to-day--a solemn expectation of
    entering eternity. I feel a sadness of spirit at times (attended
    with a calm resignation of mind, not unpleasing) at the
    remembrance of my friend, whom I expect no more to see till we
    meet in heaven. Oh, blessed hope that there we shall meet! Lord,
    keep us each in the narrow way that leads to Thee.

    _December 31._--The last in 1805--oh, may it prove the most holy
    to my soul. I am shut out from the communion of Thy saints in a
    measure; oh, let me enjoy more communion with my God. Thou
    knowest my secret sorrows, yea, Thou dost calm them by causing
    me to have regard to a future life of bliss with Thee, when I
    shall see and adore the wisdom of Thy dealings with me. Oh, my
    idolatrous heart!

These passages occur in Henry Martyn's _Journal_:

    _December 4._--Dearest Lydia! never wilt thou cease to be dear
    to me; still, the glory of God, and the salvation of immortal
    souls, is an object for which I can part with thee. Let us live
    then for God, separate from one another, since such is His holy
    will. Hereafter we shall meet in a happier region, and if we
    shall have lived and died, denying ourselves for God, triumphant
    and glorious will our meeting be....

    _December 5._--My mind has been running on Lydia, and the happy
    scenes in England, very much; particularly on that day when I
    walked with her on the sea-shore, and with a wistful eye looked
    over the blue waves that were to bear me from her. While walking
    the deck I longed to be left alone, that my thoughts might run
    at random. Tender feelings on distant scenes do not leave me
    indisposed for communion with God; that which is present to the
    outward senses is the greatest plague to me. Went among the
    soldiers in the afternoon, distributing oranges to those who are
    scorbutic. My heart was for some hours expanding with joy and
    love; but I have reason to think that the state of the body has
    great influence on the frames and feelings of the mind. Let the
    rock of my consolations be not a variable feeling, but Jesus
    Christ and His righteousness.

The fleet next touched at San Salvador, or Bahia, from which Henry
Martyn wrote to Mrs. Hitchins, his cousin, asking her to send him by
Corrie, who was coming out as chaplain, 'your profile and Cousin Tom's
and Lydia's. If she should consent to it, I should much wish for her
miniature.' The request, when it reached her, must have led to such
passages in her _Diary_ as these:

    _1806, February 8._--I have passed some days of pain and
    weakness, but now am blessed again with health. During the whole
    of this sickness I was afflicted with much deadness of soul, and
    have had very few thoughts of God. I felt, as strength returned,
    the necessity of more earnest supplications for grace and
    spiritual life. I have ascertained this sad truth, that my soul
    has declined in spiritual fervour and liveliness since I have
    admitted an earthly object so much into my heart. Ah! I know I
    have not power to recall my affections, but God can, and I
    believe He will, enable me to regulate them better. This thought
    has been of great injury to me, as I felt no murmuring at the
    will of God, nor disposed to act therein contrary to His will. I
    thought I might indulge secretly my affection, but it has been
    of vast disadvantage to me. I am now convinced, and I do humbly
    (relying on strength from on high) resolve no more to yield to
    it. Oh, may my conversation be in heaven, and the glories of
    Immanuel be all my theme.

    _February 15._--I have been much exercised yesterday and
    to-day--walking in darkness, without light--and I feel the truth
    of this Scripture: 'Your sins have separated between you and
    your God.' I have betrayed a most unbecoming impatience and
    warmth of temper. My dear absent friend, too, has been much in
    my mind. How many times have I endured the pain of bidding him
    farewell! I would not dare repine. I doubt not for a moment the
    necessity of its being as it is, but the feelings of my mind at
    particular seasons overwhelm me. My refuge is to consider it is
    the will of God. Thy will, my God, be done.

Henry Martyn did not lose a day in discharging his mission to the
residents and slaves of that part of the coast of Brazil, in the great
commercial city and seat of the metropolitan. His was the first voice
to proclaim the pure Gospel in South America since, three hundred
years before, Coligny's and Calvin's missionaries had been there
silenced by Villegagnon, and put to death. Martyn was frequently
ashore, almost fascinated by the tropical glories of the coast and the
interior, and keenly interested in the Portuguese dons, the Franciscan
friars, and the negro slaves. After his first walk through the town to
the suburbs, he was looking for a wood in which he might rest, when he
found himself at a magnificent porch leading to a noble avenue and
house. There he was received with exuberant hospitality by the Corrè
family, especially by the young Señor Antonio, who had received a
University training in Portugal, and soon learned to enjoy the society
of the Cambridge clergyman. In his visits of days to this family, his
exploration of the immediate interior and the plantations of tapioca
and pepper, introduced from Batavia, and his discussions with its
members and the priests on Roman Catholicism, all conducted in French
and Latin, a fortnight passed rapidly. He was ever about his Master's
business, able in speaking His message to men and in prayer and
meditation. 'In a cool and shady part of the garden, near some water,
I sat and sang,

  O'er the gloomy hills of darkness.

I could read and pray aloud, as there was no fear of anyone understanding
me. Reading the eighty-fourth Psalm,

  O how amiable are Thy tabernacles,

this morning in the shade, the day when I read it last under the trees
with Lydia was brought forcibly to my remembrance, and produced some
degree of melancholy.' Refreshed by the hospitality of San Salvador,
he resumed the voyage with new zeal for his Lord and for his study of
such authorities as Orme's _Indostan_ and Scott's _Dekkan_, and thus
taking himself to task: 'I wish I had a deeper conviction of the
sinfulness of sloth.'

Thus had he taken possession of Brazil, of South America, for Christ.
As he walked through the streets, where for a long time he 'saw no one
but negro slaves male and female'; as he passed churches in which
'they were performing Mass,' and priests of all colours innumerable,
and ascended the battery which commanded a view of the whole bay of
All Saints, he exclaimed, 'What happy missionary shall be sent to bear
the name of Christ to these western regions? When shall this beautiful
country be delivered from idolatry and spurious Christianity? Crosses
there are in abundance, but when shall the doctrine of the Cross be
held up?' In the nearly ninety years that have gone since that time,
Brazil has ceased to belong to the house of Braganza, slavery has been
abolished, the agents of the Evangelical churches and societies of the
United States of America and the Bible societies have been sent in
answer to his prayer; while down in the far south Captain Allen
Gardiner, R.N., by his death for the savage people, has brought about
results that extorted the admiration of Dr. Darwin. As Martyn went back
to the ship for the last time, after a final discussion on Mariolatry
with the Franciscans, rowed by Lascars who kept the feast of the Hijra
with hymns to Mohammed, and in converse with a fellow-voyager who
declared mankind needed to be told nothing but to be sober and honest,
he cried to God with a deep sigh 'to interfere in behalf of His Gospel;
for in the course of one hour I had seen three shocking examples of the
reign and power of the devil in the form of Popish and Mohammedan
delusion and that of the natural man. I felt, however, in no way
discouraged, but only saw the necessity of dependence on God.'

Why did Henry Martyn's preaching and daily pastoral influence excite
so much opposition? Undoubtedly, as we shall see, both in Calcutta and
Dinapore, his Cornish-Celtic temperament, possibly the irritability
due to the disease under which he was even then suffering, disabled
him from disarming opposition, as his friend Corrie, for instance,
afterwards always did. But we must remember to whom he preached and
what he preached, and the time at which he preached, in the history
not only of the Church of England, but of Evangelical religion. He had
himself been brought out of spiritual darkness under the influence of
Kempthorne and Charles Simeon, by the teaching of Paul in his letters
to the Roman and the Galatian converts. To him sin was exceeding
sinful. The Pauline doctrine of sin and its one remedy was the basis
not only of his theology, but of his personal experience and daily
life. After a brief ministry to the villagers of Lolworth and
occasional sermons to his fellow students in Cambridge, this Senior
Wrangler and Classic, yet young convert, was put in spiritual charge
of a British regiment and Indiaman's crew, and was the only chaplain
in a force of eight thousand soldiers, some with families, and many
female convicts. At a time when the dead churches were only beginning
to wake up, after the missions of the Wesleys and Whitfield, of
William Carey and Simeon, this youthful prophet was called to reason
of temperance, righteousness, and judgment to come, with men who were
practically as pagan or as sceptical as Felix.

His second address at sea, on September 15, was from Paul's sermon in
the synagogue of Antioch in Pisidia (Acts xiii. 38-39): _Through this
man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins, &c._[16] It was a
full and free declaration of God's love in Jesus Christ to sinful man,
which he thus describes in his _Journal_: 'In the latter part I was
led to speak without preparation on the all-sufficiency of Christ to
save sinners who came to Him with all their sins without delay. I was
carried away with a Divine aid to speak with freedom and energy. My
soul was refreshed, and I retired seeing reason to be thankful!' But
the next week's experience resulted in this: 'I was more tried by the
fear of man than I have ever been since God called me to the ministry.
The threats and opposition of those men made me unwilling to set
before them the truths which they hated; yet I had no species of
hesitation about doing it. They had let me know that if I would preach
a sermon like one of Blair's they should be glad to hear it; but they
would not attend if so much of hell was preached.' Strengthened by our
Lord's promise of the Comforter (John xiv. 16), he next Sunday took
for his text Psalm ix. 17: _The wicked shall be turned into hell, and
all the nations that forget God._ He thus concluded:

    Pause awhile, and reflect! Some of you, perhaps, by this time,
    instead of making a wise resolve, have begun to wonder that so
    heavy a judgment should be denounced merely against
    forgetfulness. But look at the affairs of common life, and be
    taught by them. Do not neglect, and want of attention, and not
    looking about us to see what we have to do--do not any of these
    bring upon us consequences as ruinous to our worldly business as
    any ACTIVE misbehaviour? It is an event of every day, that a
    man, by mere laziness and inattention to his business, does as
    certainly bring himself and family to poverty, and end his days
    in a gaol, as if he were, in wanton mischief, to set fire to his
    own house. So it is also with the affairs of the soul: neglect
    of that--forgetfulness of God, who only can save it--will work
    his ruin, as surely as a long and daring course of profligate
    wickedness.

    When any one has been recollecting the proper proofs of a future
    state of rewards and punishments, nothing, methinks, can give
    him so sensible an apprehension of punishment or such a
    representation of it to the mind, as observing that, after the
    many disregarded checks, admonitions, and warnings which people
    meet with in the ways of vice, folly, and extravagance warnings
    from their very nature, from the examples of others, from the
    lesser inconveniences which they bring upon themselves, from the
    instructions of wise and good men--after these have been long
    despised, scorned, ridiculed--after the chief bad consequences
    (temporal consequences) of their follies have been delayed for a
    great while, at length they break in irresistibly like an armed
    force: repentance is too late to relieve, and can serve only to
    aggravate their distress: the case is become desperate; and
    poverty and sickness, remorse and anguish, infamy and death, the
    effects of their own doings, overwhelm them beyond possibility
    of remedy or escape. This is an account of what is, in fact, the
    general constitution of Nature.

    But is the forgetfulness of God so light a matter? Think what
    ingratitude, rebellion, and atheism there is at the bottom of
    it! Sirs, you have 'a carnal mind, which is enmity against God.'
    (Rom. viii. 7.) Do not suppose that you have but to make a
    slight effort, and you will cease to forget Him: it is your
    nature to forget Him: it is your nature to hate Him: so that
    nothing less than an entire change of heart and nature will ever
    deliver you from this state of enmity. Our nature 'is not
    subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. They that are
    in the flesh cannot please God.' (Rom. viii. 7, 8.) From this
    state let the fearful menace in the text persuade you to arise!
    Need we remind you again of the dreadfulness of hell--of the
    certainty that it shall overtake the impenitent sinner? Enough
    has been said; and can any of you be still so hardened, and such
    enemies to your souls, as still to cleave to sin? Will you still
    venture to continue any more in the hazard of falling into the
    hands of God? Alas! 'Who among us shall dwell with the devouring
    fire? Who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?' (Isa.
    xxxiii. 14.) 'Can thine heart endure, or can thine hands be
    strong, in the days that I shall deal with thee? I the Lord have
    spoken it, and will do it!' (Ezek. xxii. 14.) Observe, that men
    have dealt with sinners--ministers have dealt with
    them--apostles, prophets, and angels have dealt with them: at
    last, God will take them in hand, and deal with them! Though not
    so daring as to defy God, yet, brethren, in all probability you
    put on repentance. Will you securely walk a little longer along
    the brink of the burning furnace of the Almighty's fury? 'As the
    Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is but a step between
    thee and death!' (1 Sam. xx. 3.) When you lie down you know not
    but you may be in it before the morning; and when you rise you
    know not but God may say, 'Thou fool, this night thy soul shall
    be required of thee!' When once the word is given to cut you
    down, the business is over. You are cut off from your lying
    refuges and beloved sins--from the world--from your
    friends--from the light--from happiness--from hope, for ever! Be
    wise, then, my friends, and reasonable: give neither sleep to
    your eyes, nor slumber to your eyelids, till you have resolved,
    on your knees before God, to forget Him no more. Go home and
    pray. Do not dare to fly, as it were, in the face of your Maker,
    by seeking your pleasure on His holy day; but if you are alarmed
    at this subject, as well you may be, go and pray to God that you
    may forget Him no more. It is high time to awake out of sleep.
    It is high time to have done with hesitation: time does not wait
    for you; nor will God wait till you are pleased to turn. He hath
    bent His bow, and made it ready: halt no more between two
    opinions: hasten--tarry not in all the plain, but flee from the
    wrath to come. Pray for grace, without which you can do nothing.
    Pray for the knowledge of Christ, and of your own danger and
    helplessness, without which you cannot know what it is to find
    refuge in Him. It is not our design to terrify, without pointing
    out the means of safety. Let us then observe, that if it should
    have pleased God to awaken any of you to a sense of your danger,
    you should beware of betaking yourselves to a refuge of lies.

    But, through the mercy of God, many among us have found
    repentance unto life--have fled for refuge to the hope set
    before them--have seen their danger, and fled to Christ. Think
    with yourselves what it is now to have escaped destruction; what
    it will be to hear at the last day our acquittal, when it shall
    be said to others, 'Depart from Me, ye cursed, into everlasting
    fire.' Let the sense of the mercy of God gild all the path of
    life. On the other hand, since it is they who forget God that
    are to bear the weight of His wrath, let us beware, brethren,
    how we forget Him, through concern about this world, or through
    unbelief, or through sloth. Let us be punctual in all our
    engagements with Him. With earnest attention and holy awe ought
    we to hear His voice, cherish the sense of His presence, and
    perform the duties of His worship. No covenant relation or
    Gospel grace can render Him less holy, less jealous, or less
    majestic. 'Wherefore let us have grace, whereby we may serve God
    acceptably, with reverence and godly fear; for our God is a
    consuming fire.'

The officers had seated themselves behind the preacher, that they
might retire in case of dislike, and one of them employed himself in
feeding the geese; so it had happened in the case of the missionary
Paul, and Martyn wrote: 'God, I trust, blessed the sermon to the good
of many. Some of the cadets and soldiers were in tears.' The
complement[17] of this truth he soon after displayed to them in his
sermon on the message through Ezekiel xxxiii. 11. _As I live, saith
the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked._

    Men have been found in all ages who have vented their murmurs
    against God for the severity of His final punishment, as well as
    for the painful continuance of His judgments upon them in this
    life, saying, 'If our state be so full of guilt and misery as is
    represented, and God is determined to avenge Himself upon us, be
    it so; then we must take the consequences.' If God were to reply
    to this impious complaint only by silence; if He were to suffer
    the gloom of their hearts to thicken into tenfold darkness, and
    give them up to their own malignity, till they died victims to
    their own impiety and despair, the Lord would still be
    righteous, they would then only eat of the fruit of their
    doings. But, behold, the Lord gives a very unexpected message,
    with which He bids us to follow men, to interrupt their sad
    soliloquies, to stop their murmurs. 'Say unto them,' saith He,
    'As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death
    of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live.
    Turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways; for why will ye die?'

    Behold the inseparable connexion--we must turn, or die. Here
    there is a question put by God to sinners. Let sinners then
    answer the question which God puts to them,--'Why will ye die?'
    Is death a motive not strong enough to induce you to forego a
    momentary pleasure? Is it a light thing to fall into the hands
    of the living God? Is a life of godliness so very intolerable as
    not to be repaid by heavenly glory? Turn ye at His reproof--'Why
    will ye die?' Is it because there is no hope? God has this very
    hour testified with an oath that it is His desire to save you.
    Yea, He at this moment expostulates with you and beseeches you
    to seek Him. 'Why will ye die?' You know not why. If, then, you
    are constrained--now accustomed as you are to
    self-vindication--to acknowledge your unreasonableness, how much
    more will you be speechless in the last day when madness will
    admit of no palliation, and folly will appear without disguise!

    Are any returned to God? Do any believe they are really
    returned?--then here they have consolation. It is a long time
    before we lose our slavish dread of God, for our natural
    prejudices and mistakes become inveterate by habit, and Satan
    opposes the removal of them. But come now, and let us reason
    together. Will ye also dishonour your God by accounting Him more
    willing to destroy than to save you? _Will_ ye think hardly of
    God? Oh, that I had been able to describe as it deserves, His
    willingness to save! Oh, that I could have borrowed the pen of a
    seraph, and dipped it in a fount of light! Could plainer words
    be needed to describe the wonders of His love? Hearken, my
    beloved brethren! Hath He no pleasure in the death of the
    wicked, and will He take pleasure in yours? Hath He promised
    His love, His tenderness to those who turn from their wicked
    ways, and yet, when they are turned, straightway forgot His
    promise? Harbour no more fearful, unbelieving thoughts. But the
    reply is often that the fear is not of God, but of myself, lest
    I have not turned away from my evil ways. But this point may
    surely be ascertained, brethren; and if it may, any further
    refinements on this subject are derogatory to God's honour. Let
    these words convince you that, if you are willing to be saved in
    His way, He is willing to save you. It may be you will still be
    kept in darkness, but darkness is not always the frown of God;
    it is only Himself--thy shade on thy right hand. Then tremble
    not at the hand that wipes away thy tears; judge Him not by
    feeble sense, but follow Him, though He lead thee by a way that
    thou knewest not.

    There are some of you who have reason to hope that you have
    turned from the error of your ways. Ye have tasted that the Lord
    is gracious. It is but a taste, a foretaste, an antepast of the
    feast of heaven. It was His pleasure that you should turn from
    your ways; it is also His good pleasure to give you the kingdom.
    Then what shall we recommend to you, but gratitude, admiration,
    and praise? 'Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem; praise thy God, O
    Zion.' Let each of us abundantly utter the memory of His great
    goodness, and sing aloud of His righteousness. Let each say,
    'Awake, lute and harp; I myself will awake right early.' Let us
    join the chorus of angels, and all the redeemed, in praising the
    riches of His love in His kindness towards us through Christ
    Jesus.

As the fleet sailed from San Salvador, the captains were summoned to the
commodore, to learn that Cape Town and the Dutch settlement formed the
object of the expedition, and that stout resistance was expected. This
gave new zeal to the chaplain, were that possible, in his dealings with
the officers and men of his Majesty's 59th, and with the cadets, to whom
he taught mathematics in his unrewarded friendliness. Many were down
with dysentery, then and long a peculiarly fatal disease till the use of
ipecacuanha. His constant service made him also for some time a
sufferer.

    _1805, December 29._ (Sunday.)--My beloved spake and said unto
    me, Rise up, &c. (Cant. ii. 10, 11). Ah! why cannot I rise and
    go forth and meet my Lord? Every hindrance is removed: the wrath
    of God, the guilt of sin, and severity of affliction; there is
    nothing now in the world that has any strong hold of my
    affections. Separated from my friends and country for ever in
    this life, I have nothing to distract me from hearing the voice
    of my beloved, and coming away from this world and walking with
    Him in love, amidst the flowers that perfume the air of
    Paradise, and the harmony of the happy spirits who are singing
    His praise. But alas! my heart is cold and slothful. Preached on
    2 Peter iii. 11, taking notice at the end of these remarkable
    circumstances, that made the text particularly applicable to us.
    It was the last Sabbath of a year, which had been memorable to
    us from our having left our country, and passed through many
    dangers. Secondly, within a few days they were to meet an enemy
    on the field of battle. Thirdly, the death of the captain. I was
    enabled to be self-collected, and in some degree tender. There
    was a great impression; many were in tears. Visited and
    conversed with Mr. M. twice to-day, and marked some passages for
    him to read. His heart seems tender. There was a considerable
    number on the orlop in the afternoon. Expounded Matt. xix. and
    prayed. In the evening Major Davidson and M'Kenzie came to my
    cabin, and stayed nearly three hours. I read Romans vi. and
    vii., and explained those difficult chapters as well as I
    could, so that the Major, I hope, received a greater insight
    into them; afterwards I prayed with them. But my own soul after
    these ministrations seemed to have received harm rather than
    good. It was an awful reflection that Judas was a preacher,
    perhaps a successful one. Oh, let my soul tremble, lest, after
    preaching to others, I myself should be a castaway.

    _1806. January 4._--Continued to approach the land; about sunset
    the fleet came to an anchor between Robben Island and the land
    on that side, farthest from Cape Town, and a signal was
    immediately given for the 59th Regiment to prepare to land. Our
    men were soon ready, and received thirty-six rounds of ball
    cartridge; before the three boats were lowered down and fitted,
    it was two in the morning. I stayed up to see them off; it was a
    melancholy scene; the privates were keeping up their spirits by
    affecting to joke about the approach of danger, and the ladies
    sitting in the cold night upon the grating of the after-hatchway
    overwhelmed with grief; the cadets, with M'Kenzie, who is one of
    their officers, all went on board the Duchess of Gordon, the
    general rendezvous of the company's troops. I could get to speak
    to none of my people, but Corporals B. and B. I said to Sergeant
    G., 'It is now high time to be decided in religion,' he replied
    with a sigh; to Captain S. and the cadets I endeavoured to speak
    in a general way. I this day signed my name as a witness to
    Captain O.'s and Major Davidson's wills; Captain O. left his
    with me; I passed my time at intervals in writing for to-morrow.
    The interest I felt in the outward scene distracted me very much
    from the things which are not seen, and all I could do in prayer
    was to strive against this spirit. But with what horror should I
    reflect on the motions of sins within me, which tempted me to
    wish for bloodshed, as something gratifying by its sublimity. My
    spirit would be overwhelmed by such a consciousness of
    depravity, but that I can pray still deliberately against sin;
    and often the Lord manifested His power by making the same
    sinful soul to feel a longing desire that the blessed gospel of
    peace might soothe the spirits of men, and make them all live
    together in harmony and love. Yet the principle within me may
    well fill me with shame and sorrow.

Since, on April 9, 1652, Johan Anthonie van Riebeck by proclamation
took formal possession of the Cape for the Netherlands East India
Company, 'providing that the natives should be kindly treated,'[18]
the Dutch had governed South Africa for nearly a century and a half.
The natives had been outraged by the Boers, the Moravian missionaries
had departed, the colony had been starved, and yet denied the
rudiments of autonomy. The French Revolution changed all that, and
very much else. The Stadtholder of the United Provinces having allied
himself with Great Britain, Dumouriez entered Holland, and Pichegru
marched the armies of France over its frozen waters in the terrible
winter of 1794-5. To protect the trade with India from the French,
Admiral Elphinstone thereupon took possession of the Cape, which was
administered successively by General J.H. Craig, the Earl of
Macartney, Sir George Young, and Sir Francis Dundas, for seven
prosperous years, until the Treaty of Amiens restored it to the
Batavian Republic in February 1803. It was then a territory of 120,000
square miles, reaching from the Cape to a curved line which extended
from the mouth of the Buffalo River in Little Namaqualand to the
present village of Colesberg. The Great Fish River was the eastern
boundary. Now the Christian colonies and settlements of South Africa,
enjoying British sovereignty and largely under self-governing
institutions, stretch north from the sea, and east and west from ocean
to ocean, to the great river Zambesi--the base from which Christian
civilisation, by missions and chartered companies, is slowly
penetrating the explored wilds of Central Africa up the lake region to
the Soudan and Ethiopia.

This less than a century's progress has been made possible by the
expedition of 1806, in which Henry Martyn, almost alone, represented
Christianity. After the three years' respite given by the virtual
armistice of Amiens, Napoleon Bonaparte again plunged Europe and the
world into war. William Pitt's last government sent out this naval
armament under Sir Home Popham. The 5,000 troops were commanded by Sir
David Baird, who had fought and suffered in India when the senior of
the future Duke of Wellington. Henry Martyn has told us how the
squadron of the sixty-three sail had anchored between Robben Island
and the coast. The Dutch Governor, General Jan Willen Janssens, was
more worthy of his trust than his predecessor ten years before. He had
been compelled to send on a large portion of his force for the defence
of Java, soon to fall to Lord Minto, the Governor-General, and had
only 2,000 troops left. He had received only a fortnight's notice of
the approach of the British fleet, which was reported by an American
vessel. He drilled the colonists, he called French marines to his aid,
he organised Malay artillery, he embodied even Hottentot sepoys, and
made a reserve and refuge of Hottentot's Holland, from which he hoped
to starve Cape Town, should Baird capture it. Both armies were equal
in numbers at least.

All was in vain. On January 8 was fought the battle of Blaauwberg (on
the side of Table Bay opposite Cape Town), from the plateau of which
the Dutch, having stood the musketry and field pieces, fled at the
charge of the bayonet with a loss of 700 men. The British, having
dropped 212, marched on Cape Town, halted at Papendorp, and there, on
January 10, 1806, were signed the articles of capitulation which have
ever since given the Roman-Dutch law to the colony. Sir David Baird
and Sir Home Popham soon after received the surrender of Janssens,
whose troops were granted all the honours of war in consideration of
their gallant conduct. At the Congress of Vienna in 1815 Lord
Castlereagh sacrificed Java to the Dutch, but kept South Africa for
Great Britain. The surrender of the former, in the midst of the
splendid successes of Sir Stamford Raffles, is ascribed to that
minister's ignorance of geography. He knew equally little of the Cape,
which he kept, beyond its importance to India, but God has overruled
all that for the good of Equatorial, as well as South, Africa, as,
thanks to David Livingstone, vacillating statesmen have begun to see.

Henry Martyn's _Journal_ thus describes the battle and the battlefield.

    _1806, January._--Ten o'clock. When I got up, the army had left
    the shore, except the Company's troops, who remained to guard
    the landing-place; but soon after seven a most tremendous fire
    of artillery began behind a mountain abreast of the ship; it
    seemed as if the mountain itself were torn by intestine
    convulsions. The smoke rose from a lesser eminence on the right
    of the hill, and on the top of it troops were seen rushing down
    the farther declivity; then came such a long drawn fire of
    musketry, that I could not have conceived anything like it. We
    all shuddered at considering what a multitude of souls must be
    passing into eternity. The poor ladies were in a dreadful
    condition, every peal seemed to go through their hearts; I have
    just been endeavouring to do what I can to keep up their
    spirits. The sound is now retiring, and the enemy are seen
    retreating along the low ground on the right towards the town.
    Soon after writing this I went ashore and saw M'K., &c., and
    Cecil, with whom I had an agreeable conversation on Divine
    things. The cadets of our ship had erected a little shed made of
    bushes and straw, and here, at their desire, I partook of their
    cheer. Three Highlanders came to the lines just as I arrived,
    all wounded in the hand. In consequence of their report of the
    number of the wounded, a party of East India troops, with slings
    and barrows, attended by a body of cadets with arms, under Major
    Lumsden, were ordered to march to the field of battle.

    I attached myself to these, and marched six miles through the
    soft burning sand with them. The first we came to was a
    Highlander, who had been shot through the thigh, and had walked
    some way from the field and lay spent under some bushes. He was
    taken care of and we went on, and passed the whole of the larger
    hill without seeing anything. The ground then opened into a most
    extensive plain, which extended from the sea to the blue
    mountains at a great distance on the east. On the right was the
    little hill, to which we were attracted by seeing some English
    soldiers; we found that they were some wounded men of the 24th.
    They had all been taken care of by the surgeons of the Staff.
    Three were mortally wounded. One, who was shot through the
    lungs, was spitting blood, and yet very sensible. The surgeon
    desired me to spread a great-coat over him as they left him; as
    I did this, I talked to him a little of the blessed Gospel, and
    begged him to cry for mercy through Jesus Christ. The poor man
    feebly turned his head in some surprise, but took no further
    notice. I was sorry to be obliged to leave him and go on after
    the troops, from whom I was not allowed to be absent, out of a
    regard to my safety. On the top of the little hill lay Captain
    F., of the grenadiers of the same regiment, dead, shot by a ball
    entering his neck and passing into his head. I shuddered with
    horror at the sight; his face and bosom were covered with thick
    blood, and his limbs rigid and contracted as if he had died in
    great agony. Near him were several others dead, picked off by
    the riflemen of the enemy. We then descended into the plain
    where the two armies had been drawn up.

    A marine of the Belliqueuse gave me a full account of the
    position of the armies and particulars of the battle. We soon
    met with some of the 59th, one a corporal, who often joins us in
    singing, and who gave the pleasing intelligence that the
    regiment had escaped unhurt, except Captain McPherson. In the
    rear of the enemy's army there were some farm-houses, which we
    had converted into a receptacle for the sick, and in which there
    were already two hundred, chiefly English, with a few of the
    enemy. Here I entered, and found that six officers were wounded;
    but as the surgeon said they should not be disturbed, I did not
    go in, especially as they were not dangerously wounded. In one
    room I found a Dutch captain wounded, with whom I had a good
    deal of conversation in French. After a few questions about the
    army and the Cape, I could not help inquiring about Dr.
    Vanderkemp; he said he had seen him, but believed he was not at
    the Cape, nor knew how I might hear of him. The spectacle at
    these houses was horrid. The wounded soldiers lay ranged within
    and without covered with blood and gore. While the India troops
    remained here, I walked out into the field of battle with the
    surgeon. On the right wing, where they had been attacked by the
    Highland regiment, the dead and wounded seemed to have been
    strewed in great numbers, from the knapsacks, &c. Some of them
    were still remaining; with a Frenchman whom I found amongst them
    I had some conversation. All whom we approached cried out
    instantly for water. One poor Hottentot I asked about Dr.
    Vanderkemp, I saw by his manner that he knew him; he lay with
    extraordinary patience under his wound on the burning sand; I
    did what I could to make his position comfortable, and laid near
    him some bread, which I found on the ground. Another Hottentot
    lay struggling with his mouth in the dust, and the blood flowing
    out of it, cursing the Dutch in English, in the most horrid
    language; I told him he should rather forgive them, and asked
    him about God, and after telling him of the Gospel, begged he
    would pray to Jesus Christ; but he did not attend. While the
    surgeon went back to get his instrument in hopes of saving the
    man's life, a Highland soldier came up, and asked me in a rough
    tone, 'Who are you?' I told him, 'An Englishman;' he said, 'No,
    no, you are French,' and was going to present his musket. As I
    saw he was rather intoxicated, and might in mere wantonness
    fire, I went up to him and told him that if he liked he might
    take me prisoner to the English army, but that I was certainly
    an English clergyman. The man was pacified at last. The surgeon
    on his return found the thigh bone of the poor Hottentot broken,
    and therefore left him to die. After this I found an opportunity
    of retiring, and lay down among the bushes, and lifted up my
    soul to God. I cast my eyes over the plain which a few hours
    before had been the scene of bloodshed and death, and mourned
    over the dreadful effects of sin. How reviving to my thoughts
    were the blue mountains on the east, where I conceived the
    missionaries labouring to spread the Gospel of peace and love.

At sunrise on the 10th, a gun from the commodore's ship was instantly
answered by all the men-of-war, as the British flag was seen flying on
the Dutch fort. The future historian of the Christianisation of
Africa will not fail to put in the forefront, at the same time, the
scene of Henry Martyn, on his knees, taking possession of the land,
and of all lands, for Christ.

    I could find it more agreeable to my own feelings to go and weep
    with the relatives of the men whom the English have killed, than
    to rejoice at the laurels they have won. I had a happy season in
    prayer. No outward scene seemed to have power to distract my
    thoughts. I prayed that the capture of the Cape might be ordered
    to the advancement of Christ's kingdom; and that England, while
    she sent the thunder of her arms to the distant regions of the
    globe, might not remain proud and ungodly at home; but might
    show herself great indeed, by sending forth the ministers of her
    Church to diffuse the gospel of peace.

Thus on Africa, as on South America, North India, Persia and Turkey,
is written the name of Henry Martyn.

The previous government of the Cape by the British, under Sir Francis
Dundas, had been marked by the arrival, in 1799, of the London
Missionary Society's agents, Dr. Vanderkemp and Kicherer. With the
great chief Ngqika, afterwards at Graaff Reinet and then near Algoa
Bay, the quondam Dutch officer, Edinburgh medical student, and aged
landed proprietor, giving his all to Christ, had gathered in many
converts. Martyn, who had learned to admire Vanderkemp from his books,
was even more delighted with the venerable man. Driven by the Boers
into Cape Town, the old missionary, and Mr. Reid, his colleague, were
found in the midst of their daily services with the Hottentots and
Kafirs. In such society, worshipping through the Dutch language, the
India chaplain spent the greater part of the five weeks' detention of
the Union. 'Dear Dr. Vanderkemp gave me a Syriac Testament as a
remembrance of him.' When Martyn and Reid parted, the latter for Algoa
Bay, 'we spoke again of the excellency of the missionary work. The
last time I had stood on the shore with a friend speaking on the same
subject, was with Lydia, at Marazion.' In Isaiah, and Leighton,
especially his _Rules for a Holy Life_, the missionary chaplain found
comfort and stimulus.

    _February 5, 1806._--I am born for God only. Christ is nearer to
    me than father, or mother, or sister,--a nearer relation, a more
    affectionate friend; and I rejoice to follow Him, and to love
    Him. Blessed Jesus! Thou art all I want--a forerunner to me in
    all I ever shall go through, as a Christian, a minister, or a
    missionary.

    _February 13._--After breakfast had a solemn season in prayer,
    with the same impressions as yesterday, from Leighton, and tried
    to give up myself wholly to God, not only to be resigned solely
    to His will, but to seek my only pleasure from it, to depart
    altogether from the world, and be exactly the same in happiness,
    whether painful or pleasing dispensations were appointed me: I
    endeavoured to realise again the truth, that suffering was my
    appointed portion, and that it became me to expect it as my
    daily lot. Yet after all, I was ready to cry out, what an
    unfortunate creature I am, the child of sorrow and care; from my
    infancy I have met with nothing but contradiction, but I always
    solaced myself that one day it would be better, and I should
    find myself comfortably settled in the enjoyment of domestic
    pleasures, whereas, after all the wearying labours of school and
    college, I am at last cut off from all my friends, and comforts,
    and dearest hopes, without being permitted even to hope for them
    any more. As I walked the deck, I found that the conversation of
    others, and my own gloomy surmises of my future trials,
    affected me far less with vexation, than they formerly did,
    merely from this, that I took it as my portion from God, all
    whose dispensations I am bound to consider and receive as the
    fruits of infinite wisdom and love towards me. I felt,
    therefore, very quiet, and was manifestly strengthened from
    above with might in my inner man; therefore, without any joy,
    without any pleasant considerations to balance my present
    sickness and gloom, I was contented from the reflection, that it
    was God who did it. I pray that this may be my state--neither to
    be anxious to escape from this stormy sea that was round the
    Cape, nor to change the tedious scene of the ship for Madras,
    nor to leave this world merely to get rid of the troubles of it,
    but to glorify God where I am, and where He puts me, and to take
    each day as an important trust for Him, in which I have much to
    do both in suffering and acting. Employed in collecting from the
    New Testament all the passages that refer to our walking in
    Christ.

    _February 18._--Completed my twenty-fifth year. Let me recollect
    it to my own shame, and be warned by it, to spend my future
    years to a better purpose; unless this be the case, it is of
    very little consequence to notice when such a person came into
    the world. Passed much of the morning in prayer, but could not
    succeed at all in getting an humble and contrite spirit; my
    pride and self-esteem seemed unconquerable. Wrote sermon with my
    mind impressed with the necessity of diligence: had the usual
    service, and talked much to a sick man. Read Hindustani.

    _February 27._--Rose once more after a sleepless night, and had
    in consequence a peevish temper to contend with. Had a
    comfortable and fervent season of prayer, in the morning, while
    interceding for the heathen from some of the chapters in Isaiah.
    How striking did those words Isaiah xlii. 8 appear to me, 'I am
    the Lord, that is My name; and My glory will I not give to
    another, neither My praise to graven images.' Lord, is not Thy
    praise given to graven images in India? Here, then, is Thine own
    express word that it shall not continue to be so. And how easy
    is it for the mighty God that created the heavens and stretched
    them out, that spread forth the earth, and that which cometh out
    of it; that giveth breath unto the people upon it, and spirit to
    them that walk therein; to effect His purposes in a moment. What
    is caste? What are inveterate prejudices, and civil power, and
    priestly bigotry, when once the Lord shall set to His hand? Who
    knows whether even the present generation may not see Satan's
    throne shaken to its base in India? Learning Hindustani words in
    the morning; in the afternoon below, and much hurt at the cold
    reception the men gave me.

    _March 7._--Endeavoured this morning to consider Christ as the
    High Priest of my profession. Never do I set myself to
    understand the nature of my walk in Christ without getting good
    to my soul. Employed as usual through the day. Heard from
    M'Kenzie that they are not yet tired with inveighing against my
    doctrines. They took occasion also to say, from my salary, that
    'Martyn, as well as the rest, can share the plunder of the
    natives in India; whether it is just or not he does not care.'
    This brought back the doubts I formerly had about the lawfulness
    of receiving anything from the Company. My mind is not yet
    comfortable about it. I see it, however, my duty to wait in
    faith and patience, till the Lord shall satisfy my doubts one
    way or other. I would wish for no species of connection with the
    East India Company, and notwithstanding the large sums I have
    borrowed on the credit of my salary, which I shall never be able
    to repay from any other means, I would wish to become a
    missionary, dependent on a society; but I know not how to
    decide. The Lord in mercy keep my soul in peace. Other thoughts
    have occurred to me since. A man who has unjustly got
    possession of an estate hires me as a minister to preach to his
    servants, and pays me a salary: the money wherewith he pays me
    comes unjustly to him, but justly to me. The Company are the
    acknowledged proprietors of the country, the ruling power. If I
    were to refuse to go there, I might, on the same account, refuse
    to go to France, and preach to the French people or bodyguard of
    the emperor, because the present monarch who pays me is not the
    lawful one. If there were a company of Mohammedan merchants or
    Mohammedan princes in possession of the country, should I
    hesitate to accept an offer of officiating as chaplain among
    them, and receiving a salary?

    _March 14._--_Suavissima vita est indies sentire se fieri
    meliorem._ So I can say from former experience more than from
    present. But oh, it is the ardent desire of my soul to regard
    all earthly things with indifference, as one who dwells above
    with God. May I grow in grace; may the grace of God, which
    bringeth salvation, teach me to become daily more spiritual,
    more humble, more steadfast in Christ, more meek, more wise, and
    in all things to live soberly, righteously, and godly in this
    present world. How shall I attain to greater
    heavenly-mindedness? Rose refreshed after a good night's sleep,
    and wrote on a subject; had much conversation with Mr. B. upon
    deck; he seemed much surprised when I corrected his notions on
    religion, but received what I said with great candour. He said
    there was a minister at Madras, a Dane, with whom Sir D. Baird
    was well acquainted, who used to speak in the same manner of
    religion, whose name was Schwartz. My attention was instantly
    roused at the venerable name, and I eagerly inquired of him all
    the particulars with which he was acquainted. He had often heard
    him preach, and Mr. Jænicke had often breakfasted with him;
    Schwartz, he said, had a very commanding manner, and used to
    preach extempore in English at Madras; he died very poor. In
    the afternoon had a service below; much of the evening M'Kenzie
    passed with me, and prayed.

    _March 26._--Passed much time before breakfast in sitting on the
    poop, through utter disinclination to all exertion. Such is the
    enervating effect of the climate; but after staying some hours
    learning Hindustani words, 2 Timothy ii. roused me to a bodily
    exertion. I felt strong in spirit, resolving, if I died under
    it, to make the body submit to robust exercise; so I walked the
    deck with great rapidity for an hour and a half. My animal
    spirits were altered instantly; I felt a happy and joyful desire
    to brave the enervating effects of India in the service of the
    blessed Lord Jesus. B. still delirious and dying fast: the first
    thing he said to me when I visited him this afternoon, was, 'Mr.
    Martyn, what will you choose for a kingdom?' I made no answer to
    this, but thought of it a good deal afterwards. What would I
    choose? Why, I do not know that anything would be a heaven to
    me, but the service of Christ, and the enjoyment of His
    presence.

In this spirit, coasting Ceylon, and getting his first sight of India
at the Danish mission station of Tranquebar, on April 22, 1806, Henry
Martyn landed at Madras. To Mr. Hitchins he afterwards wrote:

    There was nothing remarkable in this first part of India which I
    visited; it was by no means so romantic as America. Vast numbers
    of black people were walking about with no dress but a little
    about their middle, but no European was to be seen except here
    and there one in a palanquin. Once I preached at Fort St.
    George, though the chaplains hardly knew what to make of such
    sort of preaching; they were, however, not offended. Finding
    that the people would bear to be addressed plainly, and not
    really think the worse of a minister for dealing closely with
    their consciences, they determined, they said, to preach the
    Gospel as I did; but I fear that one, if not both, has yet to
    learn what the Gospel is. I breakfasted one day with Sir E.
    Pellew, the Port Admiral at Madras, and met S. Cole, his
    captain. I was perfectly delighted to find one with whom I could
    speak about St. Hilary and Marazion; we spoke of every person,
    place, and thing we could think of in your neighbourhood.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] _Twenty Sermons_, by the late Rev. Henry Martyn, B.D. Fourth
edition (from first edition printed at Calcutta), London, 1822.

[17] _Five Sermons_ (never before published), by the late Rev. Henry
Martyn, B.D., with a prefatory letter on missionary enterprise, by the
Rev. G.T. Fox, M.A., London, 1862.

[18] George M. Theal's _South African History_, Lovedale Institution
Press, 1873.



CHAPTER IV

INDIA AND THE EAST IN THE YEAR 1806


Henry Martyn reached India, and entered on his official duties as
chaplain and the work of his heart as missionary to North India, at a
time when the Anglo-Indian community had begun to follow society in
England, in a reformation of life and manners, and in a corresponding
desire to do good to the natives. The evangelical reaction set in
motion by the Pietists, Moravians, and Marrow-men, John Wesley and
Whitfield, Andrew Fuller and Simeon, John Erskine and the Haldanes,
had first affected South India and Madras, where Protestant Christian
Missions were just a century old. The Danish-Halle men, led by
Ziegenbalg and Schwartz, had found support in the Society for
Promoting Christian Knowledge from the year 1709. So early as 1716 an
East India Company's chaplain, the Rev. William Stevenson, wrote a
remarkable letter to that society,[19] 'concerning the most effectual
way of propagating the Gospel in this (South India) part of the
world.' He urged a union of the several agencies in England, Denmark,
and Germany into one common Society for Promoting the Protestant
Missions, the formation of colleges in Europe to train missionaries, the
raising of an annual income of 3,000_l._, and the maintenance therewith
of a staff of at least eight well-qualified missionaries. By a century
and a half he anticipated the proposal of that union which gives
strength and charity; the erection of colleges, at Tranquebar and
Madras, to train native ministers, catechists, and schoolmasters, and
the opening of free schools in every considerable place superintended by
the European missionaries on the circle system. Another Madras chaplain,
the Rev. George Lewis, was no less friendly and helpful to Ziegenbalg;
he was Mr. Stevenson's predecessor, and wrote in 1712.

In North India--where the casteless races of the hills, corresponding
to the Shanars around Cape Comorin, were not discovered till far on in
the present century--almost everything was different. By the time that
the Evangelical Church directed its attention to Calcutta, the East
India Company had become a political, and consequently an intolerant,
power. It feared Christian proselytism, and it encouraged Hindu and
Mohammedan beliefs and institutions. Whereas, in Madras, it gladly
used Schwartz, subsidised the mission with 500 pagodas or 225_l._ a
year, and had always conveyed the missionaries' freight in its ships
free of charge, in Bengal it kept out missionaries, or so treated them
with all the rigour of the law against 'interlopers,' that William
Carey had to begin his career as an indigo planter, and seek
protection in Danish Serampore, where he became openly and only a
preacher and teacher of Christ. North India, too, with Calcutta and
Benares as its two Hindu centres, and Lucknow and Delhi as its two
Mohammedan centres, Shiah and Soonni, was, and is, the very citadel of
all the non-Christian world. The same Gospel which had proved the
power of God to the simple demonolators of the Dravidian south, must
be shown to be the wisdom of God to the Koolin of Bengal, the Brahman
of Kasi, the fanatical Muslim from Dacca, and ultimately to Peshawur
and Cabul, Persia and Arabia. The Himalayan and Gangetic land--from
which Buddhism overran Eastern and Southern Asia--must again send
forth a missionary message to call Cathay to Christ.

The Christianising of North India began in 1758, the year after the
battle of Plassey, when, as Governor, the conqueror, Clive, welcomed
his old acquaintance, of the Cuddalore Mission, the Swede Kiernander,
to Calcutta, and gave him a rent-free house for eight years. Even
Burke was friendly with Clive, writing of him: 'Lord Clive once
thought himself obliged to me for having done what I thought an act of
justice towards him;'[20] and it is pleasant thus to be able in any
way to link that name with the purely spiritual force which used the
Plassey and the Mutiny wars, as it will direct all events, for making
India Christ's. The first church, built in 1715 by the merchants and
captains, had been destroyed by a hurricane; the second had been
demolished by Suraj-ood-Dowlah, in the siege of Calcutta, two years
before, and one of the two chaplains had perished in the Black Hole,
while the other was driven away. For the next thirty years the few who
went to the chaplains' church worshipped in a small bungalow in the
old fort, where Kiernander opened his first school. By 1771-4 he had
formed such a congregation of poor Christians--Portuguese, Roman
Catholics, and Bengali converts--that he built and extended the famous
Mission Church and School-house, at a cost of 12,000_l._, received
from both his marriages. When, by becoming surety for another, the old
man lost his all, and blindness added to his sorrows, he left an
English congregation of 147 members, and a Native congregation of 119,
half Portuguese or Eurasians, and half Bengali.

Kiernander's Mission Church was the centre of the religious life of
Calcutta and Bengal. Six years after its foundation there came to
Calcutta, from Madras, Mr. William Chambers--who had been converted by
Schwartz--and John Christian Obeck, who had been one of the catechists
of the Apostle of South India. Chambers had not been a year in the
capital when he found out Charles Grant, at that time overwhelmed by a
domestic sorrow, and brought him to Christ. Grant soon after went to
Maldah as Commercial Resident, where he had as his subordinates,
George Udny, Ellerton, W. Brown, W. Grant, J. Henry, and Creighton.
These men, with their families, Sir Robert Chambers, of the Supreme
Court, Mrs. Anne Chambers who was with her sons, Mrs. Chapman, and
others less known, formed the nucleus of a Christian community which
first supported Thomas as a medical missionary, then welcomed Carey,
and, with the assistance of two Governor-Generals, Sir John Shore and
Lord Wellesley, changed the tone of Anglo-Indian society. Sir William
Jones, too, in his brief career of six years, set an example of all
the virtues. Henry Martyn had two predecessors as Evangelical
chaplains and missionary philanthropists, the Yorkshire David Brown,
and the Scottish Claudius Buchanan.

David Brown, an early friend of Simeon and Fellow of Magdalen College,
was recovering from a long illness in 1785, when a letter reached him
from London, proposing that he should seek ordination, and in ten days
he accompanied Captain Kirkpatrick to Calcutta to superintend the
Military Orphan School. The officers of the Bengal Army had unanimously
resolved to tax themselves for the removal and prevention of the scandal
caused by the number of boys and girls left destitute--no fewer than 500
at that time. This noble school, the blessings of which were soon
extended to the white and coloured offspring of non-commissioned
officers and soldiers also, was organised at Howrah by Brown, who then
was made chaplain to a brigade, and afterwards one of the Fort William
or Presidency chaplains. He found the Mission practically non-existent,
owing to Kiernander's losses and old age. To save the buildings from
sale by the sheriff, Charles Grant bought them for 10,000 rupees and
vested them in himself, Mr. A. Chambers, and Mr. Brown, by a deed
providing that they remain appropriated to the sole purposes of
religion. Until the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge could send
out a minister, David Brown greatly extended the work of Kiernander. At
one time it was likely that Henry Martyn would be sent out by Mr. Grant.
Under the Church Missionary Society the Mission Church of Calcutta has
ever since been identified with all that is best in pure religion and
missionary enterprise in the city of Calcutta.

When sending out the Rev. A.T. Clarke, B.A. of Trinity College,
Cambridge, who soon after became a chaplain, the Christian Knowledge
Society, referring to Schwartz and Germany, fertile in missionaries,
declared, 'It has been the surprise of many, and the lamentation of
more, that fortitude thus exemplified should not have inspired some of
our own clergy with an emulation to follow and to imitate these
champions of the Cross, thus seeking and thus contending to save them
who are lost.' That was in 1789, when the Society and Dr. Watson,
Bishop of Llandaff, along with Simeon, Wilberforce, and the other
Clapham men, had before it, officially, the request of Charles Grant,
Chambers and Brown to send out eight English missionaries on 350_l._ a
year each, to study at Benares and attack Hinduism in its very centre.
Not till 1817 was the first Church of England missionary, as such, the
Rev. William Greenwood, to settle in Ceylon and then in Bengal. Even
he became rather an additional chaplain to the invalid soldiers at
Chunar.

After a career not unlike that of John Newton, who first directed his
attention to India, Claudius Buchanan, whom his father had intended to
educate for the ministry of the Church of Scotland, wandered to
London, was sent to Queen's College, Cambridge, by Mr. Thornton of
Clapham; there came under Simeon's influence, and was appointed to
Bengal as a chaplain by Mr. Grant. That was in 1796. For the next ten
years in Barrackpore and Calcutta as the trusted chaplain of Lord
Wellesley, by his researches in South India, by his promotion of Bible
translation, and by the interest in the Christianising of India which
his generous prizes excited in the Universities and Churches of
England and Scotland, Dr. Claudius Buchanan was the foremost
ecclesiastic in the East. He at once gave an impulse to the silent
revolution which David Brown began and the Serampore missionaries
carried on. His Christian statesmanship commended him to all the
authorities, and soon the new Cathedral of St. John, which Warren
Hastings had erected to supersede the old Bungalow Church, became
filled with an attentive and devout congregation, as well as the
mission church. These two men and William Carey formed the pillars of
the College of Fort William, by which Lord Wellesley not only educated
the young civilians and military officers in the Oriental languages, and
in their duties to the natives, but developed a high ideal of public
life and personal morality. Such was the growth of Christian feeling
alike in the army and the civil service, and such the sense of duty to
the rapidly increasing Eurasian community, as well as to the natives,
that by 1803 Claudius Buchanan submitted to the Governor-General, the
Archbishop of Canterbury, and Bishop Porteus, his _Thoughts on the
Expediency of an Ecclesiastical Establishment for British India_. It
took ten years, covering the whole period of Henry Martyn's activities
and life, from this time for the proposal to be legislatively carried
out in the East India Company's Charter of 1813.

Practically--except in Maldah residency during the influence of Grant,
Udny, and Carey at the end of last century--the reformation was
confined to Calcutta, as we shall see. It was a young lieutenant of
the Company's army who was the first to draw the attention of the
Governor-General, Sir John Shore, in 1794, to the total neglect of
religion in Bengal. Lieutenant White wrote that he had been eleven
years in the country without having had it in his power to hear the
public prayers of the Church above five times. He urged the regular
worship of God, the public performance of Divine service, and
preaching at all the stations. He proposed 'additional chaplains to
the Company's complement for considerable places which now have none
to officiate. Unless places were erected at the different stations for
assembling to Divine service, it must be impossible for chaplains even
to be able to do their duty, and to assemble the people together.'
The letter delighted the Governor-General, who said of it to David
Brown, 'I shall certainly recommend places to be made at the stations,
and shall desire the General who is going up the country to take this
matter in charge, and to fix on spots where chapels shall be erected.'
Nothing was done in consequence of this, however. It was left to
Martyn, and the other chaplains who were in earnest, to find or create
covered places for worship at the great military stations. Claudius
Buchanan himself could not hold regular services at Barrackpore, close
to Calcutta, for want of a church, and that was supplied long after by
adapting and consecrating the station theatre!

The figures in Buchanan's published Memoir on the Expediency of an
Ecclesiastical Establishment, enable us to estimate exactly the
spiritual destitution of the Protestant subjects of the British
Government in Asia. Twelve years after Lieutenant White, Sir John
Shore, David Brown, and Claudius Buchanan first raised the question,
and when Henry Martyn began his ministrations to all classes, there
were 676,557 Protestant subjects in India, Ceylon, Java, Sumatra, and
Canton, Roman Catholics and Syrian Christians not included. In the
three Presidencies of India alone there were 156,057, of whom 7,257
were civil and military officers and inhabitants, 6,000 were the
Company's European troops, 19,800 were the King's troops, 110,000 were
Eurasians, and 13,000 were 'native Protestant Christians at Tanjore.'
In Bengal alone--that is, North India--there were fifty stations,
thirty-one civil and nineteen military, many of which had been
'without the offices of religion for twenty years past, though at each
there reside generally a judge, a collector, a commercial resident,
with families, together with their assistants and families, and a
surgeon;' also indigo planters, tradesmen, and other European
inhabitants and the alarmingly large number of Eurasians. In Bengal
alone there were 13,299 European Protestants, of whom 2,467 were civil
servants and military officers; of the whole 13,299, 'a tenth part do
not return to England,' and desire Christian education and confirmation
for their children. Yet 'at present there are but three churches in
India, the chief of which was aided in construction by Hindu
contribution.' The India _Journals and Letters_ of Martyn must be read
in the light of all this.

It was thus that the successive generations of soldiers and civilians
who won for Christian England its Indian Empire in the century from
Clive to Wellesley, Hastings, and Dalhousie, were de-Christianised.
Not till the close of the Mutiny war in 1858 did John Lawrence, first
as Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab and then as Viceroy, and Sir
Robert Montgomery as Lieutenant-Governor, lead the Queen's Government
to do its duty, by erecting, or helping Christians to erect, a chapel
in every station up to Peshawur and Burma--that, to use Buchanan's
language in 1806, 'the English soldiers and our countrymen of all
descriptions, after long absence from a Christian country, may
recognise a church.' Including Ceylon, Buchanan's scheme proposed an
annual expenditure of 144,000_l._ for four dioceses, with 50 English
chaplains and 100 native curates, 200 schoolmasters and 4 colleges to
train both Europeans and natives for the ministry; of this, Parliament
to give 100,000_l._ The ecclesiastical establishment of India--without
Ceylon, but including Church of Scotland chaplains, and grants to
Wesleyans and Roman Catholics--now costs India itself 160,000_l._ a
year, while the annual value of the lands devoted to the non-Christian
cults is many millions sterling. With all this, and the aid of the
Additional Clergy and Anglo-Indian Evangelisation Societies, and of
the missionaries to the natives, Great Britain does not meet the
spiritual wants of the now enormous number and scattered communities
of Christian soldiers and residents in its Indian Empire.

Henry Martyn went out to India at a time when the government of India
had been temporarily entrusted to one of the only three or four
incompetent and unworthy men who have held the high office of
Governor-General. Sir George Barlow was a Bengal civilian of the old
type, whom Lord Wellesley had found so zealous and useful in matters of
routine that he had recommended him as provisional Governor-General. But
the moment that that proconsul had seated the East India Company on the
throne of the Great Mogul, as has been said, and Lord Cornwallis, who
had been hurried out a second time to undo his magnificent and just
policy, had died at Ghazipore, Sir George Barlow showed the most
disastrous zeal in opposition to all his former convictions. By
withholding from Sindia the lamentable despatch of September 19, 1805,
which Lord Cornwallis had signed when the unconsciousness of death had
already weakened his efficiency, Lord Lake gave the civil authorities a
final opportunity to consider their ways. But Barlow's stupidity--now
clothed with the almost dictator's power of the highest office under the
British Crown, as it was in those days--deliberately declared it to be
his desire, not only to fix the limit of our empire at the Jumna, a
river fordable by an enemy at all times, but to promote general anarchy
beyond that frontier as the best security for British peace within it.
The peace of Southern Asia and the good of its peoples were postponed
for years, till, with difficulty, the Marquis of Hastings restored the
empire to the position in which Lord Wellesley had left it. Sir George
Barlow is responsible for the twelve years' anarchy of British India,
from 1805 to 1817. His administration, which became such a failure that
he was removed to Madras, and was from even that province recalled, must
rank as a blot on the otherwise unbroken splendour and benevolence to
the subject races of the government of South Asia in the century and a
half from Clive to Lord Lansdowne.

The man who, from dull stolidity more than from Macchiavellian craft,
thus again plunged half India into a series of wars by chief upon
chief and creed upon creed, was no less guilty of intolerance to
Christianity within the Company's territories. On the one hand, in
opposition to the views of Lord Wellesley, and even of the Court of
Directors led by Charles Grant, he made the Company's government the
direct manager of the Poori temple of Jaganath and its dancing girls;
on the other, he would have banished the Serampore and all Christian
missionaries from the country, but for the courageous opposition of
the little Governor of that Danish settlement. All too late he was
relieved by Lord Minto, whom the Brahmanised officials of 1807 to 1810
used for a final and futile effort to crush Christianity out of India,
to the indignation of Henry Martyn, whose language in his _Journal_ is
not more unmeasured than the intolerance deserves. But in his purely
foreign policy Lord Minto proved that he had not held the office of
President of the Board of Control in vain. He once more asserted the
only reason for the existence of a foreign power in India, 'the
suppression of intestine disorder,' clearing Bundelkhund of robber
chiefs and military strongholds. Surrounded and assisted by the
brilliant civilians and military officers whom Wellesley and Carey had
trained--men like Mountstuart Elphinstone, Metcalfe and Malcolm--Lord
Minto proved equal to the strain which the designs of Napoleon
Bonaparte in the Treaty of Tilsit put upon our infant empire in the
East. He sent Metcalfe to Lahore, and confined the dangerous power of
Ranjeet Singh to the north of the Sutlej. He despatched Elphinstone to
Cabul, introducing the wise policy which has converted Afghanistan
into a friendly subsidised State; and through Malcolm he opened Persia
to English influence, paving the way for the embassy of Wellesley's
friend, Sir Gore Ouseley, and--unconsciously--for the kindly reception
of Henry Martyn.

It was on April 22, 1806, at sunrise, that the young chaplain landed
from the surf-boat on the sands of Madras. His experience at San
Salvador had prepared him for the scene, and even for the crowds of
dark natives, though not for 'the elegance of their manners.' 'I felt
a solemn sort of melancholy at the sight of such multitudes of
idolators. While the turbaned Asiatics waited upon us at dinner, about
a dozen of them, I could not help feeling as if we had got into their
places.' He visited the native suburb in which his Hindustani-speaking
servants dwelt, and was depressed by its 'appearance of wretchedness.'
His soul was filled with the zeal of the Old Testament prophets
against idolatry, the first sight of which--of men, women, and
children, mad upon their idols--produces an impression which he does
not exaggerate: 'I fancy the frown of God to be visible.' He lost not
a day in commending his Master to the people. 'Had a good deal of
conversation with a Rajpoot about religion, and told him of the
Gospel.' The young natives pressed upon the new-comer as usual. 'Rose
early, but could not enjoy morning meditations in my walk, as the
young men would attach themselves to me.'

He was much in the society of the Rev. Dr. Kerr[21] and the other
Madras chaplains; one of these was about to proceed to Seringapatam,
where Martyn urged him to 'devote himself to the work of preaching to
the natives.' This was ever foremost in his thoughts. He spent days in
obtaining from Dr. Kerr 'a vast deal of information about all the
chaplains and missionaries in the country, which he promised to put in
writing for me.' Schwartz was not then dead ten years, and Dr. Kerr,
who had known him and Guericke well, gave his eager listener many
details of the great missionary.

    Felt excessively delighted with accounts of a very late date
    from Bengal, describing the labours of the missionaries, and was
    rather agitated at the confusion of interesting thoughts that
    crowded upon me; but I reasoned, Why thus? God may never honour
    you with a missionary commission; you must expect to leave the
    field, and bid adieu to the world and all its concerns.

On his first Sunday in India, April 27, 1806, Henry Martyn assisted in
the service in the church at Fort St. George, and preached from Luke
x. 41, 42, 'One thing is needful.'

    There was much attention, and Lord William sent to Dr. Kerr
    afterwards to request a copy of the sermon; but I believe it was
    generally thought too severe. After dinner, went to Black Town
    to Mr. Loveless's chapel. I sat in the air at the door enjoying
    the blessed sound of the Gospel on an Indian shore, and joining
    with much comfort in the song of divine praise. With young
    Torriano I had some conversation respecting his entering the
    ministry, as he spoke the Malabar tongue fluently. Walked home
    at night enjoying the presence of God.

    _April 28._--This morning, at breakfast, Sir E. Pellew came in
    and said: 'Upon my word, Mr. Martyn, you gave us a good trimming
    yesterday.' As this was before a large company, and I was taken
    by surprise, I knew not what to say. Passed most of the day in
    transcribing the sermon. There was nothing very awakening in it.
    About five in the evening I walked to Dr. Kerr's, and found my
    way across the fields, which much resembled those near
    Cambridge; I stopped some time to take a view of the men drawing
    'toddy' from the tree, and their manner of ploughing.

    _April 30._--Breakfasted at Sir E. Pellew's with Captain S. Cole
    of the Culloden. I had a good deal of conversation about our
    friends at St. Hilary and Marazion. Continued at home the rest
    of the day transcribing sermon, and reading Zechariah. In the
    evening drove with Dr. Kerr to Mr. Faulkner's, the Persian
    translator, five or six miles in the country. We had some useful
    conversation about the languages. On my return walked by
    moonlight in the grounds reflecting on the mission. My soul was
    at first sore tried by desponding thoughts: but God wonderfully
    assisted me to trust Him for the wisdom of His dispensations.
    Truly, therefore, will I say again, 'Who art thou, O great
    mountain? before Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain.' How easy
    for God to do it! and it shall be done in good time: and even if
    I never should see a native converted, God may design by my
    patience and continuance in the work to encourage future
    missionaries. But what surprises me is the change of views I
    have here from what I had in England.--There, my heart expanded
    with hope and joy at the prospect of the speedy conversion of
    the heathen! but here, the sight of the apparent impossibility
    requires a strong faith to support the spirits.

The 'Lord William' of the _Journal_ is the Governor of Madras, Lord
William Bentinck, whom, at the beginning of his Indian career, it is
interesting to find thus pleasantly brought into contact with Henry
Martyn--just as he became the fast friend of Alexander Duff, at the
close of his long and beneficent services to his country and to
humanity. In two months thereafter the Vellore Mutiny was to break
out, through no fault of his, and he was to be recalled by an act of
injustice for which George Canning and the Court of Directors atoned
twenty years after by appointing him Governor-General.

After a fortnight off Madras, the Union once more set sail under the
convoy of the Victor sloop-of-war. Every moment the young scholar had
sought to add to his knowledge of Hindustani and Persian. He changed
his first native servant for one who could speak Hindustani. He drove
with Dr. Kerr to Mr. Faulkner's, the Persian translator to Government.
'We had some useful conversation about the languages.' On the voyage
to Calcutta, he was 'employed in learning Bengali. Passed the
afternoon on the poop reading Sale's _Al Coran_.' Only missionary
thoughts and aspirations ruled his mind, now despairing of his own
fitness; now refreshed as he turned from the Church Missionary
Society's reports to the evangelical prophecies of Malachi; again
praying for the young missionaries of the London Society as he passed
Vizagapatam, and for 'poor India' as he came in sight of the Jaganath
pagoda, 'much resembling in appearance Roche Rock in Cornwall ... the
scene presented another specimen of that tremendous gloom with which
the devil has overspread the land.' After taking a pilot on board in
Balasore Roads, where Carey had first landed, the ship was driven out
to sea by a north-wester, and Henry Martyn suffered from his first
sunstroke. In three days she anchored in the Hoogli, above Culpee, and
on May 13 bumped on that dreaded shoal, the James and Mary. 'The
captain considered the vessel as lost. Retired as soon as possible for
prayer, and found my soul in peace at the prospect of death.' She
floated off, exchanging most of the treasure into a tender which lay
becalmed off the Garden Reach suburb, then 'very beautiful.'

Henry Martyn landed at Calcutta in the height of the hot season, on
May 16, 1806. Claudius Buchanan had passed him at the mouth of the
Hoogli, setting out on the tour of the coasts of India, which resulted
in the _Christian Researches_. David Brown was in his country retreat
at Aldeen, near Serampore.

The man whom, next to his own colleagues, he first sought out was the
quondam shoemaker of Hackleton, and poor Baptist preacher of Moulton,
the Bengali missionary to whose success Charles Simeon had pointed him
when fresh from the triumph of Senior Wrangler; the apostle then
forty-five years of age, who was busy with the duties of Professor of
Sanskrit, Bengali, and Marathi, in the College of Fort William, that
he might have the Bible translated into all the languages of Asia, and
preached in all the villages of North India.

    _1806, May 16._--Went ashore at daylight this morning, and with
    some difficulty found Carey: Messrs. Brown and Buchanan being
    both absent from Calcutta. With him I breakfasted, joined with
    him in worship, which was in Bengali for the advantage of a few
    servants, who sat, however, perfectly unmoved. I could not help
    contrasting them with the slaves and Hottentots at Cape Town,
    whose hearts seemed to burn within them. After breakfast Carey
    began to translate, with a Pandit, from a Sanskrit manuscript.
    Presently after, Dr. Taylor came in. I had engaged a boat to go
    to Serampore, when a letter from Mr. Brown found me out, and
    directed me to his house in the town, where I spent the rest of
    the day in solitude, and more comfortably and profitably than
    any time past. I enjoyed several solemn seasons in prayer, and
    more lively impressions from God's Word. I felt elevated above
    those distressing fears and distractions which pride and
    worldliness engender in the mind. Employed at times in writing
    to Mr. Simeon, Mr. Brown's moonshi; a Brahmin of the name of B.
    Roy came in and disputed with me two hours about the Gospel. I
    was really surprised at him; he spoke English very well and
    possessed more acuteness, good sense, moderation, and
    acquaintance with the Scriptures than I could conceive to be
    found in an Indian. He spoke with uncommon energy and eloquence,
    intending to show that Christianity and Hinduism did not
    materially differ. He asked me to explain my system, and adduce
    the proofs of it from the Bible, which he said he believed was
    the Word of God. When I asked him about his idolatry, he asked
    in turn what I had to say to our worshipping Christ. This led to
    inquiries about the Trinity, which, after hearing what I had to
    say, he observed was actually the Hindu notion. I explained
    several things about the Jews and the Old Testament, about which
    he wanted information, with all which he was amazingly pleased.
    I feel much encouraged by this to go to instruct them. I see
    that they are a religious people, as St. Paul called the
    Athenians, and my heart almost springs at the thought that the
    time is ripening for the fulness of the Gentiles to come in.

    _May 17._--A day more unprofitable than the foregoing; the
    depravity of my heart, as it is in its natural frame, appeared
    to me to-day almost unconquerable. I could not, however long in
    prayer, keep the presence of God, or the power of the world to
    come, in my mind at all. It sunk down to its most lukewarm
    state, and continued in general so, in spite of my endeavours.
    Oh, how I need a deep heartrending work of the Spirit upon
    myself, before I shall save myself, or them that hear me! What I
    hear about my future destination has proved a trial to me
    to-day. My dear brethren, Brown and Buchanan, wish to keep me
    here, as I expected, and the Governor accedes to their wishes. I
    have a great many reasons for not liking this; I almost think
    that to be prevented going among the heathen as a missionary
    would break my heart. Whether it be self-will or aught else, I
    cannot yet rightly ascertain. At all events I must learn
    submission to everything. In the multitude of my thoughts Thy
    comforts delight my soul. I have been running the hurried round
    of thought without God. I have forgotten that He ordereth
    everything. I have been bearing the burden of my cares myself,
    instead of casting them all upon Him. Mr. Brown came in to-day
    from Serampore, and gave me directions how to proceed; continued
    at home writing to E. In the afternoon went on board, but
    without being able to get my things away. Much of the rest of
    the day passed in conversation with Mr. Brown. I feel pressed in
    spirit to do something for God. Everybody is diligent, but I am
    idle; all employed in their proper work, but I tossed in
    uncertainty; I want nothing but grace; I want to be perfectly
    holy, and to save myself and those that hear me. I have hitherto
    lived to little purpose, more like a clod than a servant of God;
    now let me burn out for God.

FOOTNOTES:

[19] _An Abstract of the Annual Reports and Correspondence of the
Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge from 1709 to 1814._ London,
1814, pp. 4-24.

[20] See a remarkable letter from Mr. Burke to Yuseph Emin, an
Armenian of Calcutta, in Simeon's _Memorial Sketches of David Brown_,
p. 334.

[21] Simeon thus introduced him to Dr. Kerr, in a private letter quoted
by a later Madras chaplain, Rev. James Hough, in his valuable five volumes
on _The History of Christianity in India_: 'Our excellent friend, Mr.
Martyn, lived five months with me, and a more heavenly-minded young man
I never saw.' In the same year, the Rev. Marmaduke Thompson, an
evangelical chaplain, arrived in Madras _viâ_ Calcutta.



CHAPTER V

CALCUTTA AND SERAMPORE, 1806


'Now let me burn out for God!' Such were the words with which Henry
Martyn began his ministry to natives and Europeans in North India, as
in the secrecy of prayer he reviewed his first two days in Calcutta.
Chaplain though he was, officially, at the most intolerant time of the
East India Company's administration, he was above all things a
missionary. Charles Simeon had chosen him, and Charles Grant had sent
him out, for this as well as his purely professional duty, and it
never occurred to him that he could be anything else. He burned to
bring all men to the same peace with God and service to Him which he
himself had for seven years enjoyed. We find him recording his great
delight, now at an extract sent to him from the East India Company's
Charter, doubtless the old one from William III., 'authorising and
even requiring me to teach the natives,' and again on receiving a
letter from Corrie, 'exulting with thankfulness and joy that Dr. Kerr
was preaching the Gospel. Eight such chaplains in India! this is
precious news indeed.' Even up to the present time no Christian in
India has ever recognised so fully, or carried out in a brief time so
unrestingly, his duty to natives and Europeans alike as sinners to be
saved by Jesus Christ alone.

Henry Martyn's first Sunday in Calcutta was spent in worship in St.
Johns, the 'new church,' when Mr. Jefferies read one part and Mr.
Limerick another of the service, and Mr. Brown preached. Midday was
spent with 'a pious family where we had some agreeable and religious
conversation, but their wish to keep me from the work of the mission
and retain me at Calcutta was carried farther than mere civility, and
showed an extraordinary unconcern for the souls of the poor heathens.'
In the evening, though unwell with a cold and sore throat, he ventured
to read the service in the mission or old church of Kiernander. He was
there 'agreeably surprised at the number, attention, and apparent
liveliness of the audience. Most of the young ministers that I know
would rejoice to come from England if they knew how attractive every
circumstance is respecting the church.' Next day he was presented at
the levée of Sir George Barlow, acting Governor-General, 'who, after
one or two trifling questions, passed on.' He then spent some time in
the College of Fort William, where he was shown Tipoo's library, and
one of the Mohammedan professors--a colleague of Carey--chanted the
Koran. Thence he was rowed with the tide, in an hour and a half,
sixteen miles up the Hoogli to Aldeen, the house of Rev. David Brown
in the suburb of Serampore, which became his home in Lower Bengal. On
the next two Sundays he preached in the old church of Calcutta, and in
the new church 'officiated at the Sacrament with Mr. Limerick.' It was
on June 8 that he preached in the new church, for the first time, his
famous sermon from 1 Cor. i. 23, 24, on '_Christ crucified, unto the
Jews a stumblingblock, and unto the Greeks foolishness; but unto them
which are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and
the wisdom of God_.'

This is his own account of the immediate result:

    _1806, June 8._--The sermon excited no small ferment; however,
    after some looks of surprise and whispering, the congregation
    became attentive and serious. I knew what I was to be on my
    guard against, and therefore, that I might not have my mind full
    of idle thoughts about the opinions of men, I prayed both before
    and after, that the Word might be for the conversion of souls,
    and that I might feel indifferent, except on this score.

We cannot describe the sermon, as it was published after his death,
and again in 1862, more correctly than by comparing it to one of Mr.
Spurgeon's, save that, in style, it is a little more academic and a
little less Saxon or homely. But never before had the high officials
and prosperous residents of Calcutta, who attended the church which
had become 'fashionable' since the Marquess Wellesley set the example
of regular attendance, heard the evangel preached. The chaplains had
been and were of the Arian and Pelagian type common in the Church till
a later period. They at once commenced an assault on their young
colleague and on the doctrines by which Luther and Calvin had reformed
the Churches of Christendom. This was the conclusion of the hated
sermon:

    There is, in every congregation, a large proportion of Jews and
    Greeks. There are persons who resemble the Jews in
    self-righteousness; who, after hearing the doctrines of grace
    insisted on for years, yet see no occasion at all for changing
    the ground of their hopes. They seek righteousness 'not by
    faith, but as it were by the works of the law: for they stumble
    at that stumbling-stone' (Rom. ix. 32); or, perhaps, after going
    a little way in the profession of the Gospel, they take offence
    at the rigour of the practice which we require, as if the
    Gospel did not enjoin it. 'This is a hard saying,' they
    complain; 'who can hear it?' (John vi. 60), and thus resemble
    those who first made the complaint, who 'went back and walked no
    more with Him.'

    Others come to carp and to criticise. While heretics who deny
    the Lord that bought them, open infidels, professed atheists,
    grossly wicked men, are considered as entitled to candour,
    liberality, and respect, they are pleased to make serious
    professors of the Gospel exclusively objects of contempt, and
    set down their discourses on the mysteries of faith as idle and
    senseless jargon. Alas! how miserably dark and perverse must
    they be who think thus of that Gospel which unites all the power
    and wisdom of God in it. After God has arranged all the parts of
    His plan, so as to make it the best which in His wisdom could be
    devised for the restoration of man, how pitiable their stupidity
    and ignorance to whom it is foolishness! And, let us add, how
    miserable will be their end! because they not only are condemned
    already, and the wrath of God abideth on them, but they incur
    tenfold danger: they not only remain without a remedy to their
    maladies, but have the guilt of rejecting it when offered to
    them. This is their danger, that there is always a
    stumbling-block in the way: the further they go, the nearer are
    they to their fall. They are always exposed to sudden,
    unexpected destruction. They cannot foresee one moment whether
    they shall stand or fall the next; and when they do fall they
    fall at once without warning. Their feet shall slide in due
    time. Just shame is it to the sons of men, that He whose delight
    it was to do them good, and who so loved them as to shed His
    blood for them, should have so many in the world to despise and
    reject His offers; but thus is the ancient Scripture
    fulfilled--'The natural man receiveth not the things of the
    Spirit of God' (1 Cor. ii. 14).

    Tremble at your state, all ye that from self-righteousness, or
    pride, or unwillingness to follow Him in the regeneration,
    disregard Christ! Nothing keeps you one moment from perdition
    but the mere sovereign pleasure of God. Yet suppose not that we
    take pleasure in contradicting your natural sentiments on
    religion, or in giving pain by forcing offensive truths upon
    your attention--no! as the ministers of joy and peace we rise up
    at the command of God, to preach Christ crucified to you all. He
    died for His bitterest enemies: therefore, though ye have been
    Jews or Greeks, self-righteous, ignorant, or profane--though ye
    have presumed to call His truths in question, treated the Bible
    with contempt, or even chosen to prefer an idol to the
    Saviour--yet return, at length, before you die, and God is
    willing to forgive you.

    How happy is the condition of those who obey the call of the
    Gospel. Their hope being placed on that way of salvation which
    is the _power_ and _wisdom_ of God, on what a broad, firm basis
    doth it rest! Heaven and earth may pass away, though much of the
    power and wisdom of God was employed in erecting that fabric;
    but the power and wisdom themselves of God must be cut off from
    His immutable essence, and pass away, before one tittle of your
    hope can fail. Then rejoice, ye children of Wisdom, by whom she
    is justified. Happy are your eyes, for they see; and your ears,
    for they hear; and the things which God hath hidden from the
    wise and prudent, He hath revealed unto you. Ye were righteous
    in your own esteem; but ye 'count all things but loss for the
    excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord.' Then be
    not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, 'which is the power of God
    unto salvation unto every one that believeth'; but continue to
    display its efficacy by the holiness of your lives, and live
    rejoicing in hope of the glory of God.

The opposition of the officers and many of the troops on board the
transport had made the preacher familiar with attack and misrepresentation,
but not less faithful in expounding the Gospel of the grace of God as he
himself had received it to his joy, and for his service to the death. But
the ministrations of David Brown for some years might have been expected
to have made the civilians and merchants of Calcutta more tolerant, if not
more intelligent. They were, however, incited or led by the two other
chaplains thus:

    _1806, June 16._--Heard that Dr. Ward had made an intemperate
    attack upon me yesterday at the new church, and upon all the
    doctrines of the Gospel. I felt like the rest, disposed to be
    entertained at it; but I knew it to be wrong, and therefore
    found it far sweeter to retire and pray, with my mind fixed upon
    the more awful things of another world.

    _June 22._--Attended at the new church, and heard Mr. Jefferies
    on the evidences of Christianity. I had laboured much in prayer
    in the morning that God would be pleased to keep my heart during
    the service from thinking about men, and I could say as I was
    going, 'I will go up to Thy house in the multitude of Thy
    mercies, and in Thy fear will I worship toward Thy holy temple.'
    In public worship I was rather more heavenly-minded than on
    former occasions, yet still vain and wandering. At night
    preached on John x. 11: 'I am the good shepherd;' there was
    great attention. Yet felt a little dejected afterwards, as if I
    always preached without doing good.

    _July 6._--Laboured to have my mind impressed with holy things,
    particularly because I expected to have a personal attack from
    the pulpit. Mr. Limerick preached from 2 Pet. i. 13, and spoke
    with sufficient plainness against me and my doctrines. Called
    them inconsistent, extravagant, and absurd. He drew a vast
    variety of false inferences from the doctrines, and thence
    argued against the doctrines themselves. To say that repentance
    is the gift of God was to induce men to sit still and wait for
    God. To teach that Nature was wholly corrupt was to lead men to
    despair; that men thinking the righteousness of Christ
    sufficient to justify, will account it unnecessary to have any
    of their own: this last assertion moved me considerably, and I
    started at hearing such downright heresy. He spoke of me as one
    of those who understand neither what they say nor whereof they
    affirm, and as speaking only to gratify self-sufficiency, pride,
    and uncharitableness. I rejoiced at having the sacrament of the
    Lord's Supper afterwards, as the solemnities of that blessed
    ordinance sweetly tended to soothe the asperities and dissipate
    the contempt which was rising; and I think I administered the
    cup to ---- and ---- with sincere good-will. At night I preached
    on John iv. 10, at the mission church, and, blessed be God! with
    an enlarged heart. I saw ---- in tears, and that encouraged me
    to hope that perhaps some were savingly affected, but I feel no
    desire except that my God should be glorified. If any are
    awakened at hearing me, let me not hear of it if I should glory.

    _August 24._--At the new church, Mr. Jefferies preached. I
    preached in the evening on Matt. xi. 28, without much heart, yet
    the people as attentive as possible.

    _August 25._--Called on Mr. Limerick and Mr. Birch; with the
    latter I had a good deal of conversation on the practicability
    of establishing schools, and uniting in a society. An officer
    who was there took upon him to call in question the lawfulness
    of interfering with the religion of the natives, and said that
    at Delhi the Christians were some of the worst people there. I
    was glad at the prospect of meeting with these Christians. The
    Lord enabled me to speak boldly to the man, and to silence him.
    From thence I went to the Governor-General's levée, and received
    great attention from him, as, indeed, from most others here.
    Perhaps it is a snare of Satan to stop my mouth, and make me
    unwilling to preach faithfully to them. The Lord have mercy,
    and quicken me to diligence.

    _August 26._--At night Marshman came, and our conversation was
    very refreshing and profitable. Truly the love of God is the
    happiness of the soul! My soul felt much sweetness at this
    thought, and breathed after God. At midnight Marshman came to
    the pagoda, and awakened me with the information that Sir G.
    Barlow had sent word to Carey not to disperse any more tracts
    nor send out more native brethren, or in any way interfere with
    the prejudices of the natives. We did not know what to make of
    this; the subject so excited me that I was again deprived of
    necessary sleep.

    _August 28._--Enjoyed much comfort in my soul this morning, and
    ardour for my work, but afterwards consciousness of indolence
    and unprofitableness made me uneasy. In the evening Mr.
    Marshman, Ward, Moore, and Rowe came up and talked with us on
    the Governor's prohibition of preaching the Gospel, &c. Mr.
    Brown's advice was full of wisdom, and weighed with them all. I
    was exceedingly excited, and spoke with vehemence against the
    measures of government, which afterwards filled me justly with
    shame.

The earnestness of the young chaplain was such that 'the people of
Calcutta,' or all the Evangelicals, joined even by the Baptist
missionaries at Serampore, gave him no rest that he might consent to
become minister of the mission or old church, with a chaplain's salary
and house. Dr. Marshman urged that thus he might create a missionary
spirit and organise missionary undertakings of more value to the
natives than the preaching of any one man. But he remained deaf to the
temptation, while he passed on the call to Cousin T. Hitchins and
Emma, at Plymouth. His call was not to preach even in the metropolis
of British India, the centre of Southern Asia; but, through their own
languages, to set in motion a force which must win North India,
Arabia, and Persia to Christ, while by his death he should stir up the
great Church of England to do its duty.

[Illustration: PAGODA, ALDEEN HOUSE]

Serampore was the scene of his praying, his communing, and his
studying, while every Sunday was given to his duties in Calcutta, as
he waited five months for his first appointment to a military station.
David Brown had not long before acquired Aldeen House, with its
tropical garden and English-like lawn sloping down to the river,
nearly opposite the Governor-General's summer-house and park of
Barrackpore. Connected with the garden was the old and architecturally
picturesque temple of the idol Radha-bullub, which had been removed
farther inland because the safety of the shrine was imperilled by the
river. But the temple still stands, in spite of the rapid Hoogli at
its base, and the more destructive peepul tree which has spread over
its massive dome. In 1854, when the present writer first visited the
now historic spot, even the platform above the river was secure, but
that has since disappeared, with much of the fine brick moulding and
tracery work. Here was the young saint's home; ever since it has been
known as Henry Martyn's Pagoda, and has been an object of interest to
hundreds of visitors from Europe and America.

[Illustration: A BRICK FROM HENRY MARTYN'S PAGODA]

Henry Martyn became one of David Brown's family, with whom he kept up
the most loving correspondence almost to his death. But he spent even
more time with the already experienced missionaries who formed the
famous brotherhood a little farther up the right bank of the Hoogli.
Carey thus wrote of him, knowing nothing of the fact that it was his
own earlier reports which, in Simeon's hands, had first led Martyn to
desire the missionary career: 'A young clergyman, Mr. Martyn, is
lately arrived, who is possessed of a truly missionary spirit. He
lives at present with Mr. Brown, and as the image or shadow of bigotry
is not known among us here, we take sweet counsel together and go to
the house of God as friends.' Later on, the founder of the Modern
Missionary enterprise, who desired to send a missionary to every great
centre in North India, declared of the Anglican chaplain that,
wherever he went no other missionary would be needed. The late Mr.
John Clark Marshman, C.S.I., who as a lad saw them daily, wrote: 'A
strong feeling of sympathy drew him into a close intimacy with Dr.
Marshman, and they might be often seen walking arm in arm, for hours
together, on the banks of the river between Aldeen House and the
Mission House.' To the last he addressed Dr. Marshman, in frequent
letters, as his 'dear brother,' anticipating the catholic tenderness
of Bishop Heber.[22] Martyn attended those family lectures of Ward on
the Hindus which resulted in his great book on the subject. In the
Pagoda, 'Carey, Marshman, and Ward joined in the same chorus of praise
with Brown, Martyn, and Corrie.' Martyn himself gives us these
exquisite unconscious pictures of Christian life in Serampore, in
which all true missionaries face to face with the common enemy have
followed the giants of those days.

    _1806, May 19._--In the cool of the evening we walked to the
    mission-house, a few hundred yards off, and I at last saw the
    place about which I have so long read with pleasure. I was
    introduced to all the missionaries. We sat down about one
    hundred and fifty to tea, at several long tables in an immense
    room. After this there was evening service in another room
    adjoining, by Mr. Ward. Mr. Marshman then delivered his lecture
    on grammar. As his observations were chiefly confined to the
    Greek, and seemed intended for the young missionaries, I was
    rather disappointed, having expected to hear something about the
    Oriental languages. With Mr. M. alone I had much conversation,
    and received the first encouragement to be a missionary that I
    have met with since I came to this country. I blessed God in my
    heart for this seasonable supply of refreshment. Finding my sore
    throat and cough much increased, I thought there might be some
    danger, and felt rather low at the prospect of death. I could
    scarcely tell why. The constant uneasiness I am in from the
    bites of the mosquitoes made me rather fretful also. My
    habitation assigned me by Mr. Brown is a pagoda in his grounds,
    on the edge of the river. Thither I retired at night, and really
    felt something like superstitious dread at being in a place once
    inhabited, as it were, by devils, but yet felt disposed to be
    triumphantly joyful that the temple where they were worshipped
    was become Christ's oratory. I prayed out aloud to my God, and
    the echoes returned from the vaulted roof. Oh, may I so pray
    that the dome of heaven may resound! I like my dwelling much, it
    is so retired and free from noise; it has so many recesses and
    cells that I can hardly find my way in and out.

    _May 20._--Employed in preparing a sermon for to-morrow, and
    while walking about for this purpose, my body and mind active,
    my melancholy was a little relieved by the hope that I should
    not be entirely useless as a missionary. In the evening I walked
    with Mr. Brown, to see the evening worship at a pagoda whither
    they say the god who inhabited my pagoda retired some years ago.
    As we walked through the dark wood which everywhere covers the
    country, the cymbals and drums struck up, and never did sounds
    go through my heart with such horror in my life. The pagoda was
    in a court, surrounded by a wall, and the way up to it was by a
    flight of steps on each side. The people to the number of about
    fifty were standing on the outside, and playing the instruments.
    In the centre of the building was the idol, a little ugly black
    image, about two feet high, with a few lights burning round him.
    At intervals they prostrated themselves with their foreheads to
    the earth. I shivered at being in the neighbourhood of hell; my
    heart was ready to burst at the dreadful state to which the
    Devil had brought my poor fellow-creatures. I would have given
    the world to have known the language, to have preached to them.
    At this moment Mr. Marshman arrived, and my soul exulted that
    the truth would now be made known. He addressed the Brahmins
    with a few questions about the god; they seemed to be all agreed
    with Mr. Marshman, and quite ashamed at being interrogated, when
    they knew they could give no answer. They were at least mute,
    and would not reply; and when he continued speaking they struck
    up again with their detestable music, and so silenced him. We
    walked away in sorrow, but the scene we had witnessed gave rise
    to a very profitable conversation, which lasted some hours.
    Marshman in conversation with me alone sketched out what he
    thought would be the most useful plan for me to pursue in India;
    which would be to stay in Calcutta a year to learn the language,
    and when I went up the country to take one or two native
    brethren with me, to send them forth, and preach occasionally
    only to confirm their word, to establish schools, and visit
    them. He said I should do far more good in the way of influence
    than merely by actual preaching. After all, whatever God may
    appoint, prayer is the great thing. Oh, that I may be a man of
    prayer; my spirit still struggles for deliverance from all my
    corruptions.

    _May 22._--In our walk at sunset, met Mr. Marshman, with whom I
    continued talking about the languages. Telling Mr. Brown about
    my Cambridge honours, I found my pride stirred, and bitterly
    repented having said anything about it. Surely the increase of
    humility need not be neglected when silence may do it.

    _May 23._--Was in general in a spiritual, happy frame the whole
    day, which I cannot but ascribe to my being more diligent and
    frequent in prayer over the Scriptures, so that it is the
    neglect of this duty that keeps my soul so low. Began the
    Bengali grammar, and got on considerably. Continued my letters
    to Mr. Simeon and Emma. At night we attended a conference of the
    missionaries on this subject: 'Whether God could save sinners
    without the death of Christ.' Messrs. Carey, Marshman, and Ward
    spoke, Mr. Brown and myself. I offered what might be said on the
    opposite side of the question to that which the rest took, to
    show that He might have saved them without Christ. About
    fourteen of the Bengali brethren were present and spoke on the
    subject. Ram Roteen prayed.

    _Monday, May 26._--Went up to Serampore with Mr. Brown, with
    whom I had much enlivening conversation. Why cannot I be like
    Fletcher and Brainerd, and those men of modern times? Is
    anything too hard for the Lord? Cannot my stupid stony heart be
    made to flame with love and zeal? What is it that bewitches me,
    that I live such a dying life? My soul groans under its bondage.
    In the evening Marshman called; I walked back with him, and was
    not a little offended at his speaking against the use of a
    liturgy. I returned full of grief at the offences which arise
    amongst men, and determined to be more alone with the blessed
    God.

    _May 29._--Had some conversation with Marshman alone on the
    prospects of the Gospel in this country, and the state of
    religion in our hearts, for which I felt more anxious.
    Notwithstanding, I endeavoured to guard against prating only to
    display my experience; I found myself somewhat ruffled by the
    conversation, and derived no benefit from it, but felt desirous
    only to get away from the world, and to cease from men; my pride
    was a little hurt by Marshman's questioning me as the merest
    novice. He probably sees farther into me than I see into myself.

    _June 12._--Still exceedingly feeble; endeavoured to think on a
    subject, and was much irritated at being unable to write a word.
    Mrs. Brown, and afterwards Mr. Brown, paid me a visit. I came
    into the house to dinner, but while there I felt as if fainting
    or dying, and indeed really thought I was departing this life. I
    was brought back again to the pagoda, and then on my bed I began
    to pray as on the verge of eternity. The Lord was pleased to
    break my hard heart, and deliver me from that satanic spirit of
    light and arrogant unconcern about which I groaned out my
    complaint to God. From this time I lay in tears, interceding for
    the unfortunate natives of this country; thinking with myself,
    that the most despised Soodra of India was of as much value, in
    the sight of God, as the King of Great Britain: through the rest
    of the day my soul remained in a spirit of contrition.

    _June 14._--A pundit came to me this morning, but after having
    my patience tried with him, I was obliged to send him away, as
    he knew nothing about Hindustani. I was exceedingly puzzled to
    know how I should ever be able to acquire any assistance in
    learning these languages. Alas! what trials are awaiting me.
    Sickness and the climate have increased the irritability of my
    temper, and occasions of trying it occur constantly. In the
    afternoon, while pleading for a contrite tender spirit, but in
    vain, I was obliged to cease praying for that tenderness of
    spirit, and to go on to other petitions, and by this means was
    brought to a more submissive state. Officiated at evening
    worship.

    _June 15._--Found my mouth salivated this morning from calomel.
    Attended the morning service at the mission-house; Mr. Marsdon
    preached. After service Marshman and Carey talked with me in the
    usual cheering way about missionary things, but my mind was
    dark. In the afternoon was rather more comfortable in prayer,
    and at evening worship was assisted to go through the duties of
    it with cheerfulness. Read some of Whitfield's _Sermons_.

    _June 19._--Rose in gloom, but that was soon dissipated by
    consideration and prayer. Began after breakfast for the first
    time with a moonshi, a Cashmerian Brahmin, with whom I was much
    pleased. In the boat, back to Serampore, learning roots.
    Officiated at evening worship. Walked at night with Marshman and
    Mr. Brown to the bazaar held at this time of the year, for the
    use of the people assembling at Juggernaut. The booth or
    carriage was fifty feet high, in appearance a wooden temple,
    with rows of wheels through the centre of it. By the side of
    this a native brother who attended Marshman gave away papers,
    and this gave occasion to disputes, which continued a
    considerable time between Marshman and the Brahmins. Felt
    somewhat hurt at night at ----'s insinuating that my low
    spirits, as he called it, was owing to want of diligence. God
    help me to be free from this charge, and yet not desirous to
    make a show before men. May I walk in sweet and inward communion
    with Him, labouring with never-ceasing diligence and care, and
    assured that I shall not live or labour in vain.

    _June 24._--At daylight left Calcutta, and had my temper greatly
    exercised by the neglects and improper behaviour of the servants
    and boatmen. Arrived at Serampore at eight, and retired to my
    pagoda, intending to spend the day in fasting and prayer; but
    after a prayer in which the Lord helped me to review with sorrow
    the wickedness of my past life, I was so overcome with fatigue
    that I fell asleep, and thus lost the whole morning; so I gave
    up my original intention. Passed the afternoon in translating
    the second chapter of St. Matthew into Hindustani. Had a long
    conversation at night with Marshman, whose desire now is that I
    should stay at Serampore, give myself to the study of Hindustani
    for the sake of the Scriptures, and be ready to supply the place
    of Carey and Marshman in the work, should they be taken off; and
    for another reason--that I might awaken the attention of the
    people of God in Calcutta more to missionary subjects. I was
    struck with the importance of having proper persons here to
    supply the place of these two men; but could not see that it was
    the path God designed for me. I felt, however, a most impatient
    desire that some of my friends should come out and give
    themselves to the work; for which they are so much more fit in
    point of learning than any of the Dissenters are, and could not
    bear that a work of such stupendous magnitude should be
    endangered by their neglect and love of the world. Marshman
    recommended that the serious people in Calcutta should unite in
    a society for the support of missions, and each subscribe fifty
    rupees a month for their maintenance. Ten members with this
    subscription could support sixty or seventy native brethren. He
    wished me also to see the duty of their all remaining in the
    country, learning the language, and instructing their servants.
    My mind was so filled and excited by the first part of our
    conversation, that I could not sleep for many hours after going
    to bed. He told me that the people were surfeited with the
    Gospel, and that they needed to be exhorted to duty.

    _June 26._--Employed in translating St. Matthew into Hindustani,
    and reading Mirza's translation; afterwards had moonshi a
    little. In the afternoon walked with Mr. Brown to see
    Juggernaut's car drawn back to its pagoda. Many thousands of
    people were present, rending the air with acclamations. The car
    with the tower was decorated with a vast number of flags, and
    the Brahmins were passing to and fro through the different
    compartments of it, catching the offerings of fruit, cowries,
    &c., that were thrown up to the god, for which they threw down
    in return small wreaths of flowers, which the people wore round
    their necks and in their hair. When the car stopped at the
    pagoda, the god and two attending deities were let down by
    ropes, muffled up in red cloths, a band of singers with drums
    and cymbals going round the car while this was performed. Before
    the stumps of images, for they were not better, some of the
    people prostrated themselves, striking the ground twice with
    their foreheads; this excited more horror in me than I can well
    express, and I was about to stammer out in Hindustani, 'Why do
    ye these things?' and to preach the Gospel. The words were on my
    lips--though if I had spoken thousands would have crowded round
    me, and I should not have been understood. However, I felt my
    spirit more inflamed with zeal than I ever conceived it would
    be; and I thought that if I had words I would preach to the
    multitudes all the day, if I lost my life for it. It was curious
    how the women clasped their hands, and lifted them up as if in
    the ecstasy of devotion, while Juggernaut was tumbled about in
    the most clumsy manner before their eyes. I thought with some
    sorrow that Satan may exert the same influence in exciting
    apparently religious affections in professors of the Gospel, in
    order to deceive souls to their eternal ruin. Dr. Taylor and Mr.
    Moore joined us, and distributed tracts. Mr. Ward, we heard, was
    at a distance preaching. On our return we met Marshman going
    upon the same errand. In evening worship my heart was rather
    drawn out for the heathen, and my soul in general through the
    day enjoyed a cheering sense of God's love. Marshman joined us
    again, and our conversation was about supporting some native
    missions.

    _June 30._--Went up to Serampore in the boat, learning roots.
    Spent the afternoon chiefly in prayer, of which my soul stood
    greatly in need through the snares into which my heart had been
    falling. Called at the mission-house, and saw Mr. Marsdon
    previous to the commencement of his missionary career. Now the
    plans of God are, I trust, taking another step forward.

    _July 2._--Mr. Brown proposed a prayer meeting between ourselves
    and the missionaries previous to the departure of Dr. Taylor for
    Surat. It was a season of grace to my soul, for some sense of
    the vast importance of the occasion dwelt upon my mind in
    prayer, and I desired earnestly to live zealously, labouring for
    souls in every possible way, with more honesty and openness. In
    the evening went to Marshman, and proposed it. There were at his
    house many agreeable sights; one pundit was translating
    Scripture into Sanskrit, another into Guzerati, and a table was
    covered with materials for a Chinese dictionary. Employed with
    moonshi in Hindu Story-teller, and in learning to write the
    Persian characters.

    _July 3._--Rose with some happiness in my soul, and delight in
    the thought of an increase of labour in the Church of God.
    Employed morning as usual, and in thinking of subject for
    sermon. Was detained in the house at a time when I wanted
    prayer. In the evening walked with the family through Serampore,
    the native's part. At night we had a delightful spiritual
    conversation. Thus my time passes most agreeably in this dear
    family. Lord, let me be willing to leave it and the world with
    joy.

    _July 8._--Reading with moonshi all the morning. Spent the
    afternoon in reading and prayer, as preparatory to a meeting of
    the missionaries at night. At eight, ten of us met in my pagoda.
    It was, throughout, a soul-refreshing ordinance to me. I felt as
    I wished, as if having done with the world, and standing on the
    very verge of heaven, rejoicing at the glorious work which God
    will accomplish on the earth. The Lord will, I hope, hear our
    prayers for our dear brother, on whose account we met, previous
    to his departure for Surat. An idea thrown out by Carey pleased
    me very much, not on account of its practicability, but its
    grandeur, _i.e._ that there should be an annual meeting, at the
    Cape of Good Hope, of all the missionaries in the world.

    _July 9._--Dull and languid from the exertions and late hours of
    yesterday. Reading the Sermon on the Mount, in the Hindustani
    Testament, with moonshi. In the evening went to the
    mission-house, drank tea, and attended their worship. These
    affectionate souls never fail to mention me particularly in
    their prayers, but I am grieved that they so mistake my
    occasional warmth for zeal. It is one of the things in which I
    am most low and backward, as the Lord, who seeth in secret,
    knows too well. Oh, then, may any who think it worth while to
    take up my name into their lips, pray for the beginning rather
    than the continuance of zeal! Marshman, in my walk with him,
    kindly assured me of his great regard and union of heart with
    me. I would that I had more gratitude to God, for so putting it
    into the hearts of His people to show regard to one so
    undeserving of it. At night had much nearness to God in prayer.
    I found it sweet to my spirit to reflect on my being a pilgrim
    on earth, with Christ for my near and dear friend, and found
    myself unwilling to leave off my prayer.

    _July 10._--Employed during the morning with moonshi. At morning
    and evening worship enjoyed freedom of access to God in prayer.
    Mr. Brown's return in the evening, with another Christian
    friend, added greatly to my pleasure. Marshman joined us at
    night, but these enjoyments, from being too eagerly entered
    into, often leave my soul carnally delighted only, instead of
    bringing me nearer to God. Wrote sermon at night.

    _July 12._--Most of this morning employed about sermon. In the
    afternoon went down to Calcutta with Mr. Brown and all his
    family; we passed the time very agreeably in singing hymns.
    Found Europe letters on our arrival, but were disappointed in
    not finding Corrie or Parson in the list of passengers. My
    letters were from Lydia, T.H. and Emma, Mr. Simeon, and Sargent.
    All their first letters had been taken in the Bell Packet. I
    longed to see Lydia's, but the Lord saw it good, no doubt, not
    to suffer it to arrive. The one I did receive from her was very
    animating, and showed the extraordinary zeal and activity of her
    mind. Mr. Simeon's letter contained her praises, and even he
    seemed to regret that I had gone without her. My thoughts were
    so occupied with these letters that I could get little or no
    sleep.

    _July 13._ (Sunday.)--Talked to Mr. Brown about Lydia, and read
    her letter to him. He strongly recommended the measure of
    endeavouring to bring her here, and was clear that my future
    situation in the country would be such as to make it necessary
    to be married. A letter from Colonel Sandys, which he opened
    afterwards, spoke in the highest terms of her. The subject of
    marriage was revived in my mind, but I feel rather a reluctance
    to it. I enjoy in general such sweet peace of mind, from
    considering myself a stranger upon earth, unconnected with any
    persons, unknown, forgotten, that were I never thrown into any
    more trying circumstances than I am in at present, no change
    could add to my happiness. At the new church this morning, had
    the happiness of hearing Mr. Jefferies preach. I trust God will
    graciously keep him, and instruct him, and make him another
    witness of Jesus in this place. My heart was greatly refreshed,
    and rejoiced at it all the day. At night preached at the
    missionary church, on Eph. ii. 1-3, to a small congregation. Sat
    up late with Mr. Brown, considering the same subject as we had
    been conversing on before, and it dwelt so much on my mind that
    I got hardly any sleep the whole night.

    _July 14._--The same subject engrosses my whole thoughts. Mr.
    Brown's arguments appear so strong that my mind is almost made
    up to send for Lydia. I could scarcely have any reasonable
    doubts remaining, that her presence would most abundantly
    promote the ends of the mission.

    _July 15._--Most of the day with moonshi; at intervals, thinking
    on subject for sermon. My affections seemed to be growing more
    strong towards Lydia than I could wish, as I fear my judgment
    will no longer remain unbiassed. The subject is constantly on my
    mind, and imagination heightens the advantages to be obtained
    from her presence. And yet, on the other hand, there is such a
    sweet happiness in living unconnected with any creature, and
    hastening through this life with not one single attraction to
    detain my desires here, that I am often very unwilling to
    exchange a life of celibacy for one of which I know nothing,
    except that it is in general a life of care.

    _July 16._--Morning with moonshi; afterwards preparing myself
    for church. Preached at night, at missionary church, on Isa.
    lxiii. 1. Both in prayers and sermon I felt my heart much more
    affected than I expected, and there seemed to be some impression
    on a few of the people. I feel to be thankful to God, and
    grateful to the people, that they continue to hear me with such
    attention. My thoughts this day have been rather averse to
    marriage. Anxiety about the education and conversion of children
    rather terrifies me.

    _July 20._ (Sunday.)--Preached at the new church on 2 Cor. v.
    17. Mr. Marshman dined with us, and at four I went to the
    bazaar, to hear him preach to the natives. I arrived at the shed
    before him, and found the native brethren singing, after which
    one of them got up, and addressed the people with such firmness
    and mild energy, notwithstanding their occasional contradictions
    and ridicule, that I was quite delighted and refreshed. To see a
    native Indian an earnest advocate for Jesus, how precious!
    Marshman afterwards came, and prayed, sung, and preached. If I
    were to be very severe with him, I should say that there is a
    want of seriousness, tenderness, and dignity in his address, and
    I felt pained that he should so frequently speak with contempt
    of the Brahmins, many of whom were listening with great respect
    and attention. The group presented all that variety of
    countenance which the Word is represented as producing in a
    heathen audience--some inattentive, others scornful, and others
    seemingly melting under it. Another native brother, I believe,
    then addressed them. An Indian sermon about Jesus Christ was
    like music on my ear, and I felt inflamed to begin my work:
    these poor people possess more intelligence and feeling than I
    thought. At the end of the service there was a sort of uproar
    when the papers were given away, and the attention of the
    populace and of some Europeans was excited. Read prayers at
    night at the missionary church; Mr. Brown preached on the
    unspeakable gift.

    _July 21._--Returned to Serampore rather in a low state of mind,
    arising from deprivation of a society of which I had been too
    fond.

    _July 22._--Read Hindustani without moonshi. Not being able to
    get to the pagoda from the incessant rain, I passed the latter
    part of the day in the house, reading the life of Francis
    Xavier. I was exceedingly roused at the astonishing example of
    that great saint, and began to consider whether it was not my
    duty to live, as he did, in voluntary poverty and celibacy. I
    was not easy till I had determined to follow the same course,
    when I should perceive that the kingdom of God would be more
    advanced by it. At night I saw the awful necessity of being no
    longer slothful, nor wasting my thoughts about such trifles as
    whether I should be married or not, and felt a great degree of
    fear, lest the blood of the five thousand Mohammedans, who, Mr.
    Brown said, were to be found in Calcutta capable of
    understanding a Hindustani sermon, should be required at my
    hand.

    _July 25._--The thought of the Mohammedans and heathens lies
    very heavy upon my mind. The former, who are in Calcutta, I seem
    to think are consigned to me by God, because nobody preaches in
    Hindustani. Employed the morning in sermon and Hindustani. In
    the afternoon went down to Calcutta. In the boat read Wrangham's
    Essay and some of Mr. Lloyd's letters, when young. What
    knowledge have some believers of the deep things of God! I felt
    myself peculiarly deficient in that experimental knowledge of
    Christ with which Mr. Lloyd was particularly favoured. Walked
    from the landing-place, a mile and a half, through the native
    part of Calcutta, amidst crowds of Orientals of all nations. How
    would the spirit of St. Paul have been moved! The thought of
    summoning the attention of such multitudes appeared very
    formidable, and during the course of the evening was the
    occasion of many solemn thoughts and prayer, that God would
    deliver me from all softness of mind, fear, and
    self-indulgence, and make me ready to suffer shame and death for
    the name of the Lord Jesus.

    _July 26._--My soul in general impressed with the awfulness of
    my missionary work, and often shrinking from its difficulties.

    _July 28._--In the boat to Serampore we read Mitchell's Essay on
    _Evangelizing India_, and were much pleased and profited.
    Whatever plans and speculations may be agitated, I felt it my
    duty to think only of putting my hand to the work without delay.
    Felt very unhappy at having other work put upon me, which will
    keep me from making progress in the language. Nothing but
    waiting upon God constantly for direction, and an assurance that
    His never-ceasing love will direct my way, would keep me from
    constant vexation. I scarcely do anything in the language, from
    having my time so constantly taken up with writing sermons.

    _July 29._--Much of this morning taken up in writing to Lydia.
    As far as my own views extend, I feel no doubt at all about the
    propriety of the measure--of at least proposing it. May the
    Lord, in continuance of His loving-kindness to her and me,
    direct her mind, that if she comes I may consider it as a
    special gift from God, and not merely permitted by Him. Marshman
    sat with us in the evening, and as usual was teeming with plans
    for the propagation of the Gospel. Stayed up till midnight in
    finishing the letter to Lydia.

                        TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                           Serampore: July 30, 1806.

    My dearest Lydia,--On a subject so intimately connected with my
    happiness and future ministry, as that on which I am now about
    to address you, I wish to assure you that I am not acting with
    precipitancy, or without much consideration and prayer, while I
    at last sit down to request you to come out to me to India.

    May the Lord graciously direct His blind and erring creature,
    and not suffer the natural bias of his mind to lead him astray.
    You are acquainted with much of the conflict I have undergone on
    your account. It has been greater than you or Emma have
    imagined, and yet not so painful as I deserve to have found it
    for having suffered my affections to fasten so inordinately on
    an earthly object.

    Soon, however, after my final departure from Europe, God in
    great mercy gave me deliverance, and favoured me throughout the
    voyage with peace of mind, indifference about all worldly
    connections, and devotedness to no object upon earth but the
    work of Christ. I gave you up entirely--not the smallest
    expectation remained in my mind of ever seeing you again till we
    should meet in heaven: and the thought of this separation was
    the less painful from the consolatory persuasion that our own
    Father had so ordered it for our mutual good. I continued from
    that time to remember you in my prayers only as a Christian
    sister, though one very dear to me. On my arrival in this
    country I saw no reason at first for supposing that marriage was
    advisable for a missionary--or rather the subject did not offer
    itself to my mind. The Baptist missionaries indeed recommended
    it, and Mr. Brown; but not knowing any proper person in this
    country, they were not very pressing upon the subject, and I
    accordingly gave no attention to it. After a very short
    experience and inquiry afterwards, my own opinions began to
    change, and when a few weeks ago we received your welcome
    letter, and others from Mr. Simeon and Colonel Sandys, both of
    whom spoke of you in reference to me, I considered it even as a
    call from God to satisfy myself fully concerning His will. From
    the account which Mr. Simeon received of you from Mr. Thomason,
    he seemed in his letter to me to regret that he had so strongly
    dissuaded me from thinking about you at the time of my leaving
    England. Colonel Sandys spoke in such terms of you, and of the
    advantages to result from your presence in this country, that
    Mr. Brown became very earnest for me to endeavour to prevail
    upon you. Your letter to me perfectly delighted him, and induced
    him to say that you would be the greatest aid to the mission I
    could possibly meet with. I knew my own heart too well not to be
    distrustful of it, especially as my affections were again
    awakened, and accordingly all my labour and prayer have been to
    check their influence, that I might see clearly the path of
    duty.

    Though I dare not say that I am under no bias, yet from every
    view of the subject I have been able to take, after balancing
    the advantages and disadvantages that may ensue to the cause in
    which I am engaged, always in prayer for God's direction, my
    reason is fully convinced of the expediency, I had almost said
    the necessity, of having you with me. It is possible that my
    reason may still be obscured by passion; let it suffice,
    however, to say that now with a safe conscience and the
    enjoyment of the Divine presence, I calmly and deliberately make
    the proposal to you--and blessed be God if it be not His will to
    permit it; still this step is not advancing beyond the limits of
    duty, because there is a variety of ways by which God can
    prevent it, without suffering any dishonour to His cause. If He
    shall forbid it, I think that, by His grace, I shall even then
    be contented and rejoice in the pleasure of corresponding with
    you. Your letter, dated December 1805, was the first I received
    (your former having been taken in the Bell Packet), and I found
    it so animating that I could not but reflect on the blessedness
    of having so dear a counsellor always near me. I can truly say,
    and God is my witness, that my principal desire in this affair
    is that you may promote the kingdom of God in my own heart, and
    be the means of extending it to the heathen. My own earthly
    comfort and happiness are not worth a moment's notice. I would
    not, my dearest Lydia, influence you by any artifices or false
    representations. I can only say that if you have a desire of
    being instrumental in establishing the blessed Redeemer's
    kingdom among these poor people, and will condescend to do it by
    supporting the spirits and animating the zeal of a weak
    messenger of the Lord, who is apt to grow very dispirited and
    languid, 'Come, and the Lord be with you!' It can be nothing but
    a sacrifice on your part, to leave your valuable friends to come
    to one who is utterly unworthy of you or any other of God's
    precious gifts: but you will have your reward, and I ask it not
    of you or of God for the sake of my own happiness, but only on
    account of the Gospel. If it be not calculated to promote it,
    may God in His mercy withhold it. For the satisfaction of your
    friends, I should say that you will meet with no hardships. The
    voyage is very agreeable, and with the people and country of
    India I think you will be much pleased. The climate is very
    fine--the so much dreaded heat is really nothing to those who
    will employ their minds in useful pursuits. Idleness will make
    people complain of everything. The natives are the most harmless
    and timid creatures I ever met with. The whole country is the
    land of plenty and peace. Were I a missionary among the
    Esquimaux or Boschemen, I should never dream of introducing a
    female into such a scene of danger or hardship, especially one
    whose happiness is dearer to me than my own: but here there is
    universal tranquillity, though the multitudes are so great that
    a missionary needs not go three miles from his house without
    having a congregation of many thousands. You would not be left
    in solitude if I were to make any distant excursion, because no
    chaplain is stationed where there is not a large English
    Society. My salary is abundantly sufficient for the support of a
    married man, the house and number of people kept by each
    Company's servant being such as to need no increase for a
    family establishment. As I must make the supposition of your
    coming, though it may be perhaps a premature liberty, I should
    give you some directions. This letter will reach you about the
    latter end of the year; it would be very desirable if you could
    be ready for the February fleet, because the voyage will be
    performed in far less time than at any other season. George will
    find out the best ship--one in which there is a lady of high
    rank in the service would be preferable. You are to be
    considered as coming as a visitor to Mr. Brown, who will write
    to you or to Colonel Sandys, who is best qualified to give you
    directions about the voyage. Should I be up the country on your
    arrival in Bengal, Mr. Brown will be at hand to receive you, and
    you will find yourself immediately at home. As it will highly
    expedite some of the plans which we have in agitation that you
    should know the language as soon as possible, take Gilchrist's
    _Indian Stranger's Guide_, and occasionally on the voyage learn
    some of the words.

    If I had room I might enlarge on much that would be interesting
    to you. In my conversations with Marshman, the Baptist
    missionary, our hearts sometimes expand with delight and joy at
    the prospect of seeing all these nations of the East receive the
    doctrine of the Cross. He is a happy labourer; and I only wait,
    I trust, to know the language to open my mouth boldly and make
    known the mystery of the Gospel. My romantic notions are for the
    first time almost realised; for in addition to the beauties of
    sylvan scenery may be seen the more delightful object of
    multitudes of simple people sitting in the shade listening to
    the words of eternal life. Much as yet is not done; but I have
    seen many discover by their looks while Marshman was preaching
    that their hearts were tenderly affected. My post is not yet
    determined; we expect, however, it will be Patna, a civil
    station, where I shall not be under military command. As you are
    so kindly anxious about my health, I am happy to say, that
    through mercy my health is far better than it ever was in
    England.

    The people of Calcutta are very desirous of keeping me at the
    mission-church, and offer to any Evangelical clergyman a
    chaplain's salary and a house besides. I am of course deaf to
    such a proposal; but it is strange that no one in England is
    _tempted_ by such an inviting situation. I am actually going to
    mention it to Cousin T.H. and Emma--not, as you may suppose,
    with much hope of success; but I think that possibly the chapel
    at Dock may be too much for him, and he will have here a sphere
    of still greater importance. As this will be sent by the
    overland despatch, there is some danger of its not reaching you.
    You will therefore receive a duplicate, and perhaps a triplicate
    by the ships that will arrive in England a month or two after. I
    cannot write now to any of my friends. I will therefore trouble
    you, if you have opportunity, to say that I have received no
    letters since I left England, but one from each of these--Cousin
    Tom and Emma, Simeon, Sargent, Bates: of my own family I have
    heard nothing. Assure any of them whom you may see of the
    continuance of my affectionate regard, especially dear Emma. I
    did not know that it was permitted me to write to you, or I fear
    she would not have found me so faithful a correspondent on the
    voyage. As I have heretofore addressed you through her, it is
    probable that I may be now disposed to address her through
    you--or, what will be best of all, that we both of us address
    her in one letter from India. However, you shall decide, my
    dearest Lydia. I _must_ approve your determination, because with
    that spirit of simple-looking to the Lord which we both
    endeavour to maintain, we must not doubt that you will be
    divinely directed. Till I receive an answer to this, my prayers
    you may be assured will be constantly put up for you that in
    this affair you may be under an especial guidance, and that in
    all your ways God may be abundantly glorified by you through
    Jesus Christ. You say in your letter that _frequently every day_
    you remember my worthless name before the throne of grace. This
    instance of extraordinary and undeserved kindness draws my heart
    toward you with a tenderness which I cannot describe. Dearest
    Lydia, in the sweet and fond expectation of your being given to
    me by God, and of the happiness which I humbly hope you yourself
    might enjoy here, I find a pleasure in breathing out my
    assurance of ardent love. I have now long loved you most
    affectionately, and my attachment is more strong, more pure,
    more heavenly, because I see in you the image of Jesus Christ. I
    unwillingly conclude, by bidding my beloved Lydia adieu.

                                                          H. MARTYN.

                                       Serampore: September 1, 1806.

    My dearest Lydia,--With this you will receive the duplicate of
    the letter I sent you a month ago, by the overland despatch. May
    it find you prepared to come! All the thoughts and views which I
    have had of the subject since first addressing you, add tenfold
    confirmation to my first opinion; and I trust that the blessed
    God will graciously make it appear that I have been acting under
    a right direction, by giving the precious gift to me and to the
    Church in India. I sometimes regret that I had not obtained a
    promise from you of following me at the time of our last parting
    at Gurlyn, as I am occasionally apt to be excessively impatient
    at the long delay. Many, many months must elapse before I can
    see you or even hear how you shall determine. The instant your
    mind is made up you will send a letter by the overland despatch.
    George will let you know how it is to be prepared, as the
    Company have given some printed directions. It is a consolation
    to me during this long suspense, that had I engaged with you
    before my departure I should not have had such a satisfactory
    conviction of it being the will of God. The Commander-in-chief
    is in doubt to which of the three following stations he shall
    appoint me--Benares, Patna, or Moorshedabad; it will be the
    last, most probably. This is only two days' journey from
    Calcutta. I shall take my departure in about six weeks. In the
    hour that remains, I must endeavour to write to my dear sister
    Emma, and to Sally. By the fleet which will sail hence in about
    two months, they will receive longer letters. You will then, I
    hope, have left England. I am very happy here in preparing for
    my delightful work, but I should be happier still if I were
    sufficiently fluent in the language to be actually employed; and
    happiest of all if my beloved Lydia were at my right hand,
    counselling and animating me. I am not very willing to end my
    letter to you; it is difficult not to prolong the enjoyment of
    speaking, as it were, to one who occupies so much of my sleeping
    and waking hours; but here, alas! I am aware of danger; and my
    dear Lydia will, I hope, pray that her unworthy friend may love
    no creature inordinately.

    It will be base in me to depart in heart from a God of such love
    as I find Him to be. Oh, that I could make some returns for the
    riches of His love! Swiftly fly the hours of life away, and then
    we shall be admitted to behold His glory. The ages of darkness
    are rolling fast away, and shall soon usher in the Gospel period
    when the whole world shall be filled with His glory. Oh, my
    beloved sister and friend, dear to me on every account, but
    dearest of all for having one heart and one soul with me in the
    cause of Jesus and the love of God, let us pray and rejoice, and
    rejoice and pray, that God may be glorified, and the dying
    Saviour see of the travail of His soul. May the God of hope fill
    us with all joy and peace in believing, that we may both of us
    abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost. Now, my
    dearest Lydia, I cannot say what I feel--I cannot pour out my
    soul--I could not if you were here; but I pray that you may love
    me, if it be the will of God; and I pray that God may make you
    more and more His child, and give me more and more love for all
    that is God-like and holy. I remain, with fervent affection,

                                       Yours, in eternal bonds,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

                       TO CHARLES SIMEON[23]

                                        Calcutta: September 1, 1806.

    My dearest Brother,--I feel no hesitation about inviting Miss
    L.G. on her own account, except it be that she should come so
    far for one who is so utterly unworthy of her. I would rather
    die than bring one whom I honour so much into a situation of
    difficulty; but indeed there is no hardship to be encountered.
    In my absence she might, if she pleased, visit the English
    ladies who are always to be found at the different stations. The
    plan about to be adopted by the Baptists is to establish
    missionary stations in the country; while one missionary makes
    the circuit of the surrounding country, another shall always be
    in the way to receive enquiries and to explain. I should think
    that a zealous woman, acquainted with the language, and
    especially if assisted by native brethren, might be of use in
    this way without moving from her house.... Three such men as
    Carey, Marshman, and Ward, so suited to one another and to their
    work, are not to be found, I should think, in the whole world.

    _September 13._--Heard of the arrival of Corrie and Parson at
    Madras, and of my appointment to Dinapore.

    _September 15._--Called with Mr. Brown on Mr. Udny, then went up
    with him to Serampore, and passed much of the afternoon in
    reading with him a series of newspapers from England. How
    affecting to think how the fashion of this world passeth away!
    What should I do without Christ as an everlasting portion! How
    vain is life, how mournful is death, and what is eternity
    without Christ! In the evening Marshman and Ward came to us. By
    endeavouring to recollect myself as before God, I found more
    comfort, and was enabled to show more propriety in conversation.

    _September 16._--Passed the day with moonshi in Hindustani and
    writing sermon. In the evening wrote to Lydia.

    _September 17._--The blaze of a funeral pile this morning near
    the pagoda drew my attention. I ran out, but the unfortunate
    woman had committed herself to the flames before I arrived. The
    remains of the two bodies were visible. At night, while I was at
    the missionaries', Mr. Chamberlain arrived from up the country.
    Just as we rejoiced at the thought of seeing him and his wife,
    we found she had died in the boat! I do not know when I was so
    shocked; my soul revolted at everything in this world, which God
    has so marked with misery--the effect of sin. I felt reluctance
    to engage in every worldly connection. Marriage seemed terrible,
    by exposing one to the agonising sight of a wife dying in such
    circumstances.

    _September 24._--Went down to Calcutta with Mr. Brown and
    Corrie, and found letters. My affections of love and joy were so
    excited by them that it was almost too much for my poor frame.
    My dearest Lydia's assurances of her love were grateful enough
    to my heart, but they left somewhat of a sorrowful effect,
    occasioned I believe chiefly from a fear of her suffering in any
    degree, and partly from the long time and distance that separate
    us, and uncertainty if ever we shall be permitted to meet one
    another in this world. In the evening the Lord gave me near and
    close and sweet communion with Him on this subject, and enabled
    me to commit the affair with comfort into His hands. Why did I
    ever doubt His love? Does He not love us far better than we love
    one another?

    _September 25._--Went to Serampore with Mr. Brown and Parson; in
    the afternoon read with moonshi; enjoyed much of the solemn
    presence of God the whole day, had many happy seasons in prayer,
    and felt strengthened for the work of a missionary, which is
    speedily to begin; blessed be God! My friends are alarmed about
    the solitariness of my future life, and my tendency to
    melancholy; but, O my dearest Lord! Thou art with me, Thy rod
    and Thy staff they comfort me. I go on Thine errand, and I know
    that Thou art and wilt be with me. How easily canst Thou support
    and refresh my heart!

                         TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                          Serampore: September 1806.

    How earnestly do I long for the arrival of my dearest Lydia!
    Though it may prove at last no more than a waking dream that I
    ever expected to receive you in India, the hope is too pleasing
    not to be cherished till I am forbidden any longer to hope. Till
    I am assured of the contrary, I shall find a pleasure in
    addressing you as my own. If you are not to be mine you will
    pardon me; but my expectations are greatly encouraged by the
    words you used when we parted at Gurlyn, that I had better _go
    out_ free, implying, as I thought, that you would not be
    unwilling to follow me if I should see it to be the will of God
    to make the request. I was rejoiced also to see in your letter
    that you unite your name with mine when you pray that God would
    keep us both in the path of duty: from this I infer that you are
    by no means _determined_ to remain separate from me. You will
    not suppose, my dear Lydia, that I mention these little things
    to influence your conduct, or to implicate you in an engagement.
    No, I acknowledge that you are perfectly free, and I have no
    doubt that you will act as the love and wisdom of our God shall
    direct. Your heart is far less interested in this business than
    mine, in all probability; and this on one account I do not
    regret, as you will be able to see more clearly the directions
    of God's providence. About a fortnight ago I sent you a letter
    accompanying the duplicate of the one sent overland in August.
    If these shall have arrived safe you will perhaps have left
    England before this reaches it. But if not, let me entreat you
    to delay not a moment. Yet how will my dear sister Emma be able
    to part with you, and George--but above all your _mother_? I
    feel very much for you and for them, but I have no doubt at all
    about your health and happiness in this country.

    The Commander-in-chief has at last appointed me to the station
    of Dinapore, near Patna, and I shall accordingly take my
    departure for that place as soon as I can make the necessary
    preparations. It is not exactly the situation I wished for,
    though in a temporal point of view it is desirable enough. The
    air is good, the living cheap, the salary 1,000_l._ a year, and
    there is a large body of English troops there. But I should have
    preferred being near Benares, the heart of Hinduism. We rejoice
    to hear that two other brethren are arrived at Madras on their
    way to Bengal, sent, I trust, by the Lord to co-operate in
    overturning the kingdom of Satan in these regions. They are
    Corrie and Parson, both Bengal chaplains. Their stations will be
    Benares and Moorshedabad--one on one side of me and the other on
    the other. There are also now ten Baptist missionaries at
    Serampore. Surely good is intended for this country.

    Captain Wickes, the good old Captain Wickes, who has brought out
    so many missionaries to India, is now here. He reminds me of
    Uncle S. I have been just interrupted by the blaze of a funeral
    pile, within a hundred yards of my pagoda. I ran out, but the
    wretched woman had consigned herself to the flames before I
    reached the spot, and I saw only the remains of her and her
    husband. O Lord, how long shall it be? Oh, I shall have no rest
    in my spirit till my tongue is loosed to testify against the
    Devil, and deliver the message of God to these His unhappy
    bond-slaves. I stammered out something to the wicked Brahmins
    about the judgments of God upon them for the murder they had
    just committed, but they said it was an act of her own
    free-will. Some of the missionaries would have been there, but
    they are forbidden by the Governor-General to preach to the
    natives in the British territory. Unless this prohibition is
    revoked by an order from home it will amount to a total
    suppression of the mission.

    I know of nothing else that will give you a further idea of the
    state of things here. The two ministers continue to oppose my
    doctrines with unabated virulence; but they think not that they
    fight against God. My own heart is at present cold and slothful.
    Oh, that my soul did burn with love and zeal! Surely were you
    here I should act with more cheerfulness and activity with so
    bright a pattern before me. If Corrie brings me a letter from
    you, and the fleet is not sailed, which, however, is not likely,
    I shall write to you again. Colonel Sandys will receive a letter
    from me and Mr. Brown by this fleet. Continue to remember me in
    your prayers, as a weak brother. I shall always think of you as
    one to be loved and honoured.

                                                          H. MARTYN.

    _September 26._--Employed as usual in Hindustani; visited
    Marshman at night. He and Mr. Carey sat with us in the evening.
    My heart still continuing some degree of watchfulness, but
    enjoying less sweetness.

    _October 1._--Reading with moonshi and preparing sermon; found
    great cause to pray for brotherly love. Preached at night at the
    mission-church on Eph. ii. 4. Had a very refreshing conversation
    with Corrie afterwards; we wished it to be for the benefit of
    two cadets, who supped with us, and I hope it will not be in
    vain. May the Lord be pleased to make me act with a single eye
    to His glory. How easy it is to preach about Christ Jesus the
    Lord, and yet to preach oneself.

None of six letters from Lydia Grenfell have been preserved, but we
find in her _Diary_ more self-revealing of her heart than could be
made to Henry Martyn, and also more severity in judging of herself as
in the presence of God.

    _1806, May 23._--Wrote dear H. I have felt to-day a return of
    spirits, but have spent them too much in worldly things. I found
    it a blessed season in prayer, yet I fear whether my
    satisfaction did not rather arise from being enabled to pray
    than from any extraordinary communications from above. O Lord,
    search and try my heart, let not its deceitfulness impose on me.

    _July 19._--Thought much this week of my dear absent friend.

    _August 2._--My family's unhappiness preys on my mind--sister
    burning with anger and resentment against sister, brother
    against brother, a father against his children. Oh, what a
    picture! Let me not add to the weight of family sin.

    _August 4._--Passed a happy day. Read Baxter, and found in doing
    so my soul raised above. Oh, let me have, blessed Lord,
    anticipations of this blessedness and foretaste of glory. In Thy
    presence above I shall be reunited to Thy dear saint, now
    labouring in Thy vineyard in a distant land. One year is nearly
    passed since we parted, but scarcely a waking hour, I believe,
    has he been absent from my mind. In general my remembrance of
    him is productive of pleasure--that I should possess so large a
    share of his affection, and be remembered in his prayers, and
    have an eternity to spend with him, yielding me in turn
    delightful pleasing meditations; but just now nature grieves
    that we are no more to meet below; yet, O my blessed Father, I
    cry, 'Thy will be done, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.'

    _August 10._--Went to church. My soul was very dull and
    inanimate throughout the service--the sermon had nothing in it
    to enliven or instruct. Barren as this place is for other means
    of grace, I have the Word and leisure to search; I cannot then
    complain, but of myself there is cause enough. Oh, how is my
    soul so earthly? why cannot I rise and dwell above? Tied and
    bound with the chain of sin, fettered and confined, I can only
    cast a look above. One year is gone since my dear friend left
    England. The number of our years of separation is so much
    lessened, and our salvation draws near.

    _October 19._--My birthday. One-and-thirty years have I existed
    on this earth, for twenty-five of which all the amount was sin,
    vanity, and rebellion against God; the last six, though spent
    differently, yet for every day in them I am persuaded I have
    sinned in heart, so as justly to merit condemnation of that God
    in whose mercy I trust.

    _November 5._--To-day I was reading of David's harp driving away
    the evil spirit from Saul, and resolved again (the Lord helping
    me) to try the sweet harp of Jesse's son in my first and last
    waking thoughts, for sad and disordered are my thoughts upon my
    friend. The expectation of letters from my dear friend in India
    by this fleet is almost over, and my mind is rendered anxious
    about him.

    _November 25._--My very soul has been cheered by accounts from
    my dear friend in India, for whom my mind has been greatly
    anxious. 'Cast thy cares on Me' is a command badly attended to
    by me.

The formal and first request from Henry Martyn to join him in India
reached Lydia Grenfell on March 2, 1807. We learn from his reply in
October 1807, from Dinapore, that she had sent a refusal in her
mother's name. But, on April 25, the Rev. Charles Simeon called on her
with the result which he thus records:

    With her mother's leave Miss G. accompanied us to Col. Sandys',
    when I had much conversation with her about Mr. Martyn's affair.
    She stated to me all the obstacles to his proposals: first, her
    health; second, the indelicacy of her going out to India alone
    on such an errand; third, her former engagement with another
    person, which had indeed been broken off, and he had actually
    gone up to London two years ago to be married to another woman,
    but, as he was unmarried, it seemed an obstacle in her mind;
    fourth, the certainty that her mother would never consent to it.
    On these points I observed that I thought the last was the only
    one that was insurmountable; for that, first, India often agreed
    best with persons of a delicate constitution--_e.g._ Mr. Martyn
    himself and Mr. Brown. Second, it is common for ladies to go
    thither without any previous connection; how much more,
    therefore, might one go with a connection already formed! Were
    this the only difficulty, I engaged, with the help of Mr. Grant
    and Mr. Parry, that she should go under such protection as
    should obviate all difficulties upon this head. Third, the step
    taken by the other person had set her at perfect liberty.
    Fourth, the consent of her mother was indispensable, and as that
    appeared impossible, the matter might be committed to God in
    this way. If her mother, of her own accord, should express
    regret that the connection had been prevented, from an idea of
    her being irreconcilably averse to it, and that she would not
    stand in the way of her daughter's wishes, this would be
    considered as a direction from God in answer to her prayers, and
    I should instantly be apprised of it by her, in order to
    communicate to Mr. M. _In this she perfectly agreed._ I told
    her, however, that I would mention nothing of this to Mr. M.,
    because it would only tend to keep him in painful suspense.
    Thus the matter is entirely set aside, unless God, by a special
    interposition of His providence (_i.e._ by taking away her
    mother, or overruling her mind, contrary to all reasonable
    expectation, to approve of it), mark His own will concerning it.

We find this account of the crisis in her _Diary_:

    _1807, March 2._--Passed some peaceful happy days at Tregembo.
    My return was marked by two events, long to be
    remembered--seeing John and hearing from H.M. Great has been my
    distress, but peace is returned, and could I cease from
    anticipating future evils I should enjoy more. The Lord has been
    gracious in affording me help, but He made me first feel my
    weakness, and suffered Satan to harass me. I am called upon now
    to act a decisive part.

    _Marazion, March 8._--With David let me say, In the multitude of
    thoughts within me Thy comforts have refreshed my soul. O Thou!
    my refuge, my rest, my hiding-place, in every time of sorrow to
    Thee I fly, and trust in the covert of Thy wings. Thou hast been
    a shelter for me and a strong tower. I have liberty to pour out
    my griefs into the bosom of my God, and doing so I am lightened
    of their burden. The Lord's dealings are singular with me, yet
    not severe, yea, they are merciful. Twice have I been called on
    to act[24] ... in a way few are tried in, but the Lord's
    goodness towards me is so manifest in the first, that I have
    come to wait in silence and hope the event of this. I am
    satisfied I have done now what is right, and peace has returned
    to me; yet there is need of great watchfulness to resist the
    enemy of souls, who would weaken and depress my soul, bringing
    to remembrance the affection of my dear friend, and representing
    my conduct as ungrateful towards him. To-day I have had many
    distressing feelings on his account, yet in the general I have
    been looking to things invisible and eternal, and therefore
    enjoyed peace. I must live more in the contemplation of Christ
    and heavenly things. Oh, come, fill and satisfy my soul, be my
    leader and guide, dispose of me as Thou wilt. The pain of
    writing to him is over, and I feel satisfied I wrote what duty
    required of me.[25] Now then, return, O my soul, to thy rest.

    _March 22._--A week of conflict and of mercies is over. May the
    remembrance of Thy goodness never be forgotten. I bless Thee, O
    my God, that Thou hast brought me hitherto, and with more reason
    than David, inquire what am I that Thou shouldest do so?

    _April 23._--To-day my mind has been painfully affected by the
    receipt of letters from ----. I found in the presence of my
    mother I dared not indulge the inclination I feel to mourn; and
    believing my Heavenly Parent's will to be that I should be
    careful for nothing, I ought to be equally exerting myself in
    secret to resist the temptation. How true it is we suffer more
    in the person of another dear to us than in our own! Lord, I
    know Thou canst perfectly satisfy him by the consolation of Thy
    Spirit and communications of Thy grace; Thou canst display the
    glories of Thy beloved Son to his view, and put gladness into
    his heart. Oh, support, cheer, and bless him; let Thy left hand
    be under his head, and Thy right hand embrace him, that he may
    feel less than my fears suggest. Oh, do Thou powerfully impress
    our minds with a persuasion of Thy overruling hand in this
    trial. Let us see it to be Thy will, and be now and ever
    disposed to bow to it. Uphold me, Jesus, or I fan a prey to
    distracting thoughts and imagination.

    _April 24._--The arrival of dear Mr. Simeon has been a cordial
    to my fainting heart. Lord, do Thou comfort me by him; none but
    Thyself can give me lasting comfort--instruments are nothing
    without Thee. Oh, may I now be watchful, for often, through my
    depraved nature, when unlooked-for deliverance comes, I get
    careless and light in my frame; then the Lord hides His face,
    and trouble comes, which no outward circumstances can relieve. I
    need especial direction from on high. Oh, may my dependence be
    on the Lord, and I shall not go astray.

    _April 28._--Went on Saturday with Mr. Simeon and Mr. E. to
    Helston. Lord, I bless Thy holy name, I adore Thy wonderful
    unmerited goodness towards such a base, vile creature, that Thou
    shouldest at this particular season send me counsel and support
    through the medium of Thy dear servant. I am brought home again
    in safety, and enjoyed, during my absence, an opportunity of
    seeing how a Christian lives.

    _April 29._--The state of my mind lately has led me to fill too
    much of my _Diary_ with expressions of regard for an earthly
    object, and now I am convinced of the evil of indulging this
    affection. Oh, may the Lord enable me to mortify it; may this
    mirror of my heart show me more of love to God and less to
    anything earthly. This morning was a sad one, and to the present
    I have to mourn over the barrenness of my soul, its
    indisposedness to any spiritual exertion. Almost constantly do I
    remember my dear absent friend; may I do so with less pain.

    _May 1._--I begin this month in circumstances peculiarly trying,
    such as I can support only by aid vouchsafed from above, and
    sought in constant prayer. The Lord is a stronghold in this time
    of trouble.

    _May 2._--To-day and yesterday I have found more composure of
    mind than of late; once indeed the enemy (whose devices I am too
    ignorant of to meet them as I ought) succeeded in distracting my
    mind, and excited many sinful passions from the probability that
    Miss Corrie, who is going to her brother, may be the partner
    appointed for my dear friend. This continued for a short time
    only, and I found relief at a throne of grace. It is a subject
    I must not dwell on--when the trial comes, grace will be given;
    but at present I have none to meet it; yet have I prayed the
    Lord to provide him a suitable helpmate. Deceitful is my heart;
    how little do I know it! O Thou bleeding Saviour, let me hide
    myself in Thee from deserved wrath, and oh, speak peace once
    more to my soul.

    _May 3._--A day of much sinful inquietude. Oh, that I could
    withdraw my affections! Oh, that I could once more feel I have
    no desire but after heavenly things! What a chaos has my mind
    been to-day, even in the house of God and at the throne of
    grace. I have been, in imagination, conversing with a
    fellow-creature. Where is thy heart? is a question not now to be
    answered satisfactorily. Tied and bound with this chain, if for
    a little time I rise to God, soon I turn from the glories of His
    face, grieving His Spirit by preferring the ideal presence of my
    friend--sometimes drawing the scene of his distress, at others
    the pleasure of his return. Oh, let me not continue thus to walk
    in the vanity of my mind. Oh, may I find sufficient happiness in
    the presence of my God here, and live looking to the things not
    seen, looking to that heavenly country where I shall enjoy in
    perfection the blessed society and (of?) all I loved below.

    _May 4._--Passed a day of less conflict, though I have very
    imperfectly kept my resolution not to indulge vain improbable
    expectations of the future; yet I have been favoured with a
    greater freedom from them than yesterday.

    _May 5._--I have been suddenly to-day seized with a violent
    depression of spirits and a sadness of heart, hard to be
    concealed. I have not, as before, fallen into a long train of
    vain imaginations, drawing scenes improbable and vain, but my
    soul has lost its spiritual appetite. I am looking forward to
    distant and uncertain events with anticipations of sorrow and
    trial impending. O my Lord and my God, come to my relief!

    _May 9._--Oh, what great troubles and adversities hast Thou
    showed me, and yet Thou didst turn again and refresh me! The
    whole of this day has been a dark and exceedingly gloomy season,
    my mind tossed to and fro like the tempestuous sea. I think the
    chief cause of my distress arises from a dread of dishonouring
    the name of the Lord, by appearing to have acted deceitfully in
    the eyes of my family, and some pride is at the bottom of this
    (I like not to be thought ill of), and also pain for the
    disappointment my dear friend will soon know. His situation
    grieves me infinitely more than my own. I think, for myself, I
    want nothing more than I find in Thy presence.

    _May 20._--My chief concern now is lest I should have given too
    much reason for my dear friend's hoping I might yet be prevailed
    on to attend to his request, and I feel the restraint stronger
    than ever, that, having before promised, I am not free to marry.
    I paint the scene of his return, and, whichever way I take,
    nothing but misery and guilt seems to await me. Yet oh, I will
    continue to pray, 'Heal me, and I shall be healed; save me, and
    I shall be saved.' Thou art my strength and hope, O Lord; though
    shame is my portion among men. Thou who knowest my heart, Thou
    wilt not in this condemn me, for oh, Thou knowest these
    consequences of my regard for Thy dear saint were not intended
    by me, and that first, when I regarded him otherwise than as a
    Christian brother, I believed myself free to do so, imagining
    him I first loved united to another. When I consider this
    circumstance my mind is relieved of a heavy burden, and yet I
    must lament the evils that have flown from this mistake. My
    thoughts have been called since Sunday into the eternal world by
    the sudden death of a very kind friend, H.C. I have found this
    event, though the cause of pain, very useful to me at this time.

    _May 22._--The way Satan takes is made plain to me, and I must
    resist him in the first pleasing ideas arising from the
    remembrance of true affection in my dear and ever-esteemed
    friend. When I yield to these, I am presently lost to all sober
    thoughts, and plunged soon in the deepest sorrow for the
    distress it has brought on him; then my conduct towards him and
    every part of my family is painted in the most horrid colours,
    till I am nearly distracted. Thus has Satan over and over
    oppressed me, and relief been afforded my fainting soul through
    the help of a superior power even than Satan. I must watch and
    pray, for thus the Lord will bruise Satan under my feet.

    _August 6._--This season recalls a dear friend to my
    remembrance. Oh, may he occupy no more of my thoughts and
    affections than is consistent with the will of God, and pleasing
    in His sight. May these resignations be manifested by us both.

    _August 9._--Just two years since I parted from a dear friend
    and brother, whose memory will ever be cherished by me. Blessed
    be God! I feel now as if he was the inhabitant of another world,
    rather than of another part of this earth.

On October 10, 1806, on the close of his preparations for departure to
Dinapore, 'at night the missionaries, etc., met us at the pagoda for
the purpose of commending me to the grace of God.' 'My soul never yet
had such Divine enjoyment. I felt a desire to break from the body, and
join the high praises of the saints above.' Next day, in Calcutta, at
evening worship at Mr. Myers', 'I found my heaven begun on earth. No
work so sweet as that of praying and living wholly to the service of
God.' On Sunday, the 12th, 'at night I took my leave of the saints in
Calcutta in a sermon on Acts xx. 32. But how very far from being in
spirit like the great apostle.' On Monday he went up by land to
Barrackpore with Mr. Brown, 'happy in general.' On Tuesday 'Corrie
came to me at the pagoda and prayed with me.'

    _1806, October 15._--Took my leave of the family at Aldeen in
    morning worship; but I have always found my heart most unable to
    be tender and solemn when occasions most require it. At eleven I
    set off in a budgerow with Mr. Brown, Corrie, and Parson.
    Marshman saw us as we passed the mission-house, and could not
    help coming aboard. He dined with us, and after going on a
    little way left us with a prayer. About sunset we landed at the
    house of the former French governor, and walked five miles
    through villages to Chandernagore, where we waited at an hotel
    till the boats came up. With the French host I found a liberty I
    could not have hoped for in his language, and was so enabled to
    preach the Gospel to him. There are two Italian monks in this
    place, who say Mass every day. I wished much to visit the
    fathers, if there had been time. A person of Calcutta, here for
    his health, troubled us with his profaneness, but we did not let
    him go unwarned, nor kept back the counsel of God. At night in
    the budgerow I prayed with my dear brethren.

    _October 16._--Rose somewhat dejected, and walked on to
    Chinsurah, the Dutch settlement, about three miles. There we
    breakfasted, and dined with Mr. Forsyth, the missionary. We all
    enjoyed great happiness in the presence and blessing of our God.
    Mr. Forsyth came on with us from Chinsurah, till we stopped at
    sunset opposite Bandel, a Portuguese settlement, and then we had
    Divine service. I prayed and found my heart greatly enlarged.
    After his departure our conversation was suitable and spiritual.
    How sweet is prayer to my soul at this time! I seem as if I
    never could be tired, not only of spiritual joys, but of
    spiritual employments, since they are now the same.

    _October 17._--My dear brethren, on account of the bad weather,
    were obliged to leave me to-day. So we spent the whole morning
    in a Divine ordinance in which each read a portion of Scripture
    and all sang and prayed. Mr. Brown's passage, chosen from Joshua
    i., was very suitable, 'Have I not commanded thee?' Let this be
    an answer to my fears, O my Lord, and an assurance that I am in
    Thy work. It was a very affecting season to me. In prayer I was
    very far from a state of seriousness and affection. Indeed, I
    have often remarked that I have never yet prayed comfortably
    with friends when it has been preceded by a chapter of the
    Revelation. Perhaps because I depend too much on the feelings
    which the imagery of that book excites, instead of putting
    myself into the hands of the Spirit, the only author of the
    prayer of faith. They went away in their boat, and I was left
    alone for the first time, with none but natives.

FOOTNOTES:

[22] _The Life and Times of Carey, Marshman, and Ward_, London, 1859.
_The Life of William Carey_ (John Murray), 2nd edition, 1887.

[23] First published (1892) by Rev. H.C.G. Moule from the autograph
collection made by Canon Carus, the successor and biographer of
Charles Simeon.

[24] A line has been erased by a subsequent writer.

[25] 'Her letter was to bid me a last farewell.'--Martyn's _Journal_.
This was received November 23.



CHAPTER VI

DINAPORE AND PATNA, 1807-1809


Until, in 1852 and the ten years following, Lord Dalhousie's railway
up the Ganges valley was completed to Allahabad, the usual mode of
proceeding up-country from Calcutta was by the house-boat known as the
budgerow, which is still common on the many rivers of Bengal where
English planters and officials are found. At the rate of twenty-five
miles a day the traveller is towed up against stream by the boatmen.
When time is no object, and opportunities are sought for reading,
shooting, and intercourse with the natives, the voyage is delightful
in the cool season. Henry Martyn rejoiced in six weeks of this
solitary life--alone yet not alone, and ever about his Father's
business. His studies were divided between Hindustani and Sanskrit; he
was much occupied in prayer and in the reading of the Greek and Hebrew
Scriptures. Morning and evening he spent himself among the people on
the banks, and at the ghauts and bazaars of the mighty river,
preaching Christ and spreading abroad the New Testament. The dense
population and the spiritual darkness, as the panorama of native life
moved hourly before his eyes, on river and on land, stirred up the
busiest of Christians to be still busier, in spite of his fast-wasting
body; 'What a wretched life shall I lead if I do not exert myself
from morning till night, in a place where, through whole territories,
I seem to be the only light!' His gun supplied him with small game,
'enough to make a change with the curry.'

At Cutwa, one of Carey's mission stations, he had fellowship with
Chamberlain, receiving that 'refreshment of spirit which comes from
the blessing of God on Christian communion.' 'Tell Marshman,' he
wrote, 'with my affectionate remembrance, that I have seriously begun
the Sanskrit Grammar.' To Ward he sends a list of errata which he
found in a tract in the Persian character. He had his Serampore
moonshi with him. At Berhampore, soon to be occupied by Mr. Parson as
chaplain, and by the London Missionary Society, he spent some time,
for it was the great military station of the old Nawab Nazim's
capital, Moorshidabad, which Clive described as wealthier than London,
and quite as populous. Henry Martyn at once walked into the hospital,
where the surgeon immediately recognised him as an old schoolfellow
and townsman. But even with such help he could not induce the men to
rise and assemble for Divine service. 'I left three books with them
and went away amidst the sneers and titters of the common soldiers.
Certainly it is one of the greatest crosses I am called to bear, to
take pains to make people hear me. It is such a struggle between a
sense of propriety and modesty on the one hand, and a sense of duty on
the other, that I find nothing equal to it.' At Rajmahal, like Carey
six years before, he met some of the hill tribes--'wrote down from
their mouth some of the names of things.'

At Maldah he was in the heart of the little Christian community which,
under Charles Grant twenty years before, had proved the salt of
Anglo-Indian society, and had made the first attempt with Carey's
assistance to open vernacular Christian schools. With Mr. Ellerton,
whose wife had witnessed the duel between Warren Hastings and Philip
Francis, and who as a widow indeed lived to the Mutiny of 1857 as the
friend of Bishop Daniel Wilson, he went to Gomalty, and visited one of
the schools. 'The cheerful faces of the little boys, sitting
cross-legged on their mats round the floor, much delighted me. While
they displayed their power of reading, their fathers, mothers, etc.,
crowded in numbers round the door and windows.' Here we see the now
vast educational system of Bengal in the birth. Not less striking is
the contrast, due to the progress of that system on its missionary
side, when we find Martyn, in 1806, recording his surprise at the
extraordinary fear and unwillingness of the people to take tracts and
books. One postmaster, when he found what the booklet was about,
returned it with the remark that a person who had his legs in two
boats went on his way uncomfortably. Passing Colgong and Monghyr, he
'reached Patna. Walked about the scene of my future ministry with a
spirit almost overwhelmed at the sight of the immense multitudes.' On
November 26 he arrived at Dinapore--'the multitudes at the water-side
prodigious.'

Nowhere, in British India as it was in 1807, could Henry Martyn have
found a better training field, at once as chaplain to the troops and
missionary to the Mohammedans, than the Patna centre of the great
province of Bihar. For fourteen miles, Patna, the Mohammedan city,
Bankipore, the British civil station, and Dinapore, the British
military station, line the right bank of the Ganges, which is there
two miles broad. Patna itself--'the city,' as the word means--was the
Buddhist capital to which the Greek ambassador Megasthenes came from
Seleukos Nikator, 300 B.C., and the Chinese pilgrim, Hwen T'sang, 637
years A.D. But under the Mogul emperors and down to the present day,
Patna has been the focus of the most fanatical sect of Islam. There
Meer Kasim murdered sixty Englishmen in 1763; and so little did a
century's civilisation affect the place, which Christian missionaries,
except Martyn, neglected till recently, that in 1857 it was a centre
of the Mutiny, and in 1872 it was the nucleus of Wahabi rebellion. The
second city in Bengal next to Calcutta, and the fifth city in all
India in inhabitants, Patna with Bankipore and Dinapore commanded an
accessible native population of half a million. Such was Henry
Martyn's first 'parish' in the East. For the mass of these he opened
schools and translated the Word of God; with their learned men he
'disputed' continually, in the spirit of Paul seeking to commend to
them the very Christ.

Besides the Company's civil servants in Bankipore whom he never ceased
to influence, he was specially charged with the spiritual care of two
European regiments, consisting at one time of 1,700 men and 80 officers
in various positions. Then and up till 1860, when what was known as 'the
White Mutiny' led the Queen's Government to disband the troops, the East
India Company had a European force of its own, specially recruited and
paid more highly than the royal regiments. The men were generally better
educated than the ordinary private of those days, were, indeed, often
runaway sons of good families and disreputable adventurers from many
countries. As a fighting force they were splendid veterans; in all other
respects their history and character as well as his own experience of
them on board ship, justified Martyn's language in a letter to Mr.
Brown. 'My disdainful and abandoned countrymen among the military; they
are impudent children and stiff-hearted, and will receive, I fear, my
ministrations, as all the others have done, with scorn. Yet Jesus wept
over Jerusalem. Henceforward let me live with Christ alone.' How loving
and faithful, if not always tender, his ministry was among them and
their native women, and how it gained their respect till it formed a
little Church in the army, we shall see.

Having settled down in barrack apartments at 50 rupees a month till he
should get a house against the hot season, and having called on the
general commanding and others, after the Anglo-Indian fashion, he
reported to his longing friends in Aldeen: 'I stand alone;[26] not one
voice is heard saying, "I wish you good luck in the name of the Lord."
I offered to come over to Bankipore to officiate to them on the
Sabbath. They are going to take this into consideration. I have found
out two schools in Dinapore. I shall set on foot one or two schools
without delay, and by the time the scholars are able to read we can
get books ready for them.' In this spirit and by a renewed act of
self-dedication he entered on the year 1807:

    Seven years have passed away since I was first called of God.
    Before the conclusion of another seven years, how probable is it
    that these hands will have mouldered into dust! But be it so: my
    soul through grace hath received the assurance of eternal life,
    and I see the days of my pilgrimage shortening without a wish
    to add to their number. But oh, may I be stirred up to a
    faithful discharge of my high and awful work; and laying aside,
    as much as may be, all carnal cares and studies, may I give
    myself to this 'one thing.' The last has been a year to be
    remembered by me, because the Lord has brought me safely to
    India, and permitted me to begin, in one sense, my missionary
    work. My trials in it have been very few; everything has turned
    out better than I expected; loving-kindness and tender mercies
    have attended me at every step: therefore here will I sing His
    praise. I have been an unprofitable servant, but the Lord hath
    not cut me off: I have been wayward and perverse, yet He has
    brought me further on the way to Zion; here, then, with
    sevenfold gratitude and affection, would I stop and devote
    myself to the blissful service of my adorable Lord. May He
    continue His patience, His grace, His direction, His spiritual
    influences, and I shall at last surely come off conqueror. May
    He speedily open my mouth, to make known the mysteries of the
    Gospel, and in great mercy grant that the heathen may receive it
    and live!

The hostility of the officers and civilians to his message sometimes
became scorn, when they saw his efforts to teach and preach to the
natives. These were days when the Patna massacre was still remembered.
So few baptized Christians knew the power of the Faith which they
practically dishonoured, that they had no desire to make it known to
others; many even actually resented the preaching of Christ to the
people, as both politically dangerous and socially an insult to the
ruling race. This feeling has long since disappeared in India at
least, though its expression is not unknown in some of the colonies
where the land is held by the dark savages. Henry Martyn keenly felt
such opposition, and none the less that the natives of the Patna
district--especially the Mohammedans--were in their turn hostile to a
government which had supplanted them so recently. A few weeks after
his arrival we find him writing this in his _Journal_:

    _1806, December 1._--Early this morning I set off in my
    palanquin for Patna. Something brought the remembrance of my
    dear Lydia so powerfully to my mind that I could not cease
    thinking of her for a moment. I know not when my reflections
    seemed to turn so fondly towards her; at the same time I
    scarcely dare to wish her to come to this country. The whole
    country is manifestly disaffected. I was struck at the anger and
    contempt with which multitudes of the natives eyed me in my
    palanquin.

    _December 2._--On my way back called on Mr. D., the Judge, and
    Mr. F., at Bankipore. Mr. F.'s conversation with me about the
    natives was again a great trial to my spirit; but in the
    multitude of my troubled thoughts I still saw that there is a
    strong consolation in the hope set before us. Let men do their
    worst, let me be torn to pieces, and my dear L. torn from me; or
    let me labour for fifty years amidst scorn, and never seeing one
    soul converted; still it shall not be worse for my soul in
    eternity, nor worse for it in time. Though the heathen rage and
    the English people imagine a vain thing, the Lord Jesus, who
    controls all events, is my friend, my master, my God, my all. On
    the Rock of Ages when I feel my foot rest my head is lifted up
    above all mine enemies round about, and I sing, yea, I will sing
    praises unto the Lord. If I am not much mistaken, sore trials
    are awaiting me from without. Yet the time will come when they
    will be over. Oh, what sweet refuge to the weary soul does the
    grave appear! There the wicked cease from troubling, and there
    the weary are at rest. Here every man I meet is an enemy; being
    an enemy to God, he is an enemy to me also on that account; but
    he is an enemy too to me because I am an Englishman. Oh, what a
    place must heaven be, where there are none but friends! England
    appears almost a heaven upon earth, because there one is not
    viewed as an unjust intruder; but, oh, the heaven of my God! the
    general assembly of the first-born, the spirits of the just made
    perfect, and Jesus! Oh, let me for a little moment labour and
    suffer reproach!

    _1807, January 2._--They seem to hate to see me associating at
    all with the natives, and one gave me a hint a few days ago
    about taking my exercise on foot. But if our Lord had always
    travelled about in His palanquin, the poor woman who was healed
    by touching the hem of His garment might have perished. Happily
    I am freed from the shackles of custom; and the fear of man,
    though not extirpated, does not prevail.

    _January 8._--Pundit was telling me to-day that there was a
    prophecy in their books that the English should remain one
    hundred years in India, and that forty years were now elapsed of
    that period; that there should be a great change, and they
    should be driven out by a king's son, who should then be born.
    Telling this to moonshi, he said that about the same time the
    Mussulmans expected some great events, such as the coming of
    Dujjel, and the spread of Islam over the earth.

    _January 29._--The expectation from prophecy is very prevalent
    hereabouts that the time is coming when all the Hindus will
    embrace the religion of the English; and the pundit says that in
    many places they had already begun. About Agra, and Delhi, and
    Narwa, in the Mahratta dominions, there are many native
    Christian families.

Henry Martyn's occupation of the Aldeen Pagoda had resulted, after his
departure, in the formation, by Brown, Corrie, Parson, and Marmaduke
Thompson, the Madras chaplain, of what would now be called a clerical
club, with these three objects--to aid the British and Foreign Bible
Society, then recently established; to help forward the translation of
the Scriptures into the languages of the East; and especially to meet
the whole expense of the Sanskrit and Greek Testaments, and to send on
to Mr. Brown, for circulation, a quarterly report of the prospects,
plans, and actual situation of each member so far as the Church is
concerned. Of this Evangelical Anglican Brotherhood Martyn seems to
have been the most active member during his brief career. His
translations were made for it, in the first instance. 'The Synod', or
'the Associated Clergy,' as he called it at different times, when as
yet there was no Bishop of Calcutta, consciously linked him to the
fellowship of the Saints, to the Church and the University from which
he had come forth. We find him noting seven years after 'the day I
left Cambridge: my thoughts frequently recurred with many tender
recollections to that beloved seat of my brethren, and again I
wandered in spirit amongst the trees on the banks of the Cam.'

The letters from these four chaplains cheered him at Dinapore when he
was 'very much depressed in spirits,' and he hastens to write to each,
giving this picture of his life:

    From a solitary walk on the banks of the river I had just
    returned to my dreary rooms, and with the reflection that just
    at this time of the day I could be thankful for a companion, was
    taking up the flute to remind myself of your social meetings in
    worship, when your two packages of letters, which had arrived in
    my absence, were brought to me. For the contents of them, all I
    can say is, Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me
    bless His holy name! The arrival of another dear brother, and
    the joy you so largely partake of in fellowship with God and
    with one another, act as a cordial to my soul. They show me what
    I want to learn, that the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth, and
    that they that keep the faith of Jesus are those only whom God
    visits with His strong consolations. I want to keep in view that
    our God is the God of the whole earth, and that the heathen are
    given to His exalted Son, the uttermost parts of the earth for a
    possession.

Continually his love of music breaks forth alike for the worship of God
and the association of friendship and affection. His correspondence with
Brown was regular, but as that of a son with a father. His letters to
Corrie, his old Cambridge junior, are frank and free. His joy was great
when Corrie was stationed at the rock-fortress of Chunar, not very far
from Dinapore, so that they occasionally met and officiated for each
other. But up to this time his chief, his almost fearful human, delight
was to think of Lydia by night and by day.

    _1806, December 10._--A dream last night was so like reality,
    and the impression after it was so deep upon my spirits, that I
    must record the date of it. It was about Lydia. I dreamt that
    she had arrived, but that after some conversation I said to her,
    'I know this is a dream; it is too soon after my letter for you
    to have come.' Alas! it is only a dream; and with this I awoke,
    and sighed to think that it was indeed only a dream. Perhaps all
    my hope about her is but a dream! Yet be it so; whatever God
    shall appoint must be good for us both, and with that I will
    endeavour to be tranquil and happy, pursuing my way through the
    wilderness with equal steadiness, whether with or without a
    companion.

    _December 14._ (Sunday.)--Service performed by an after order,
    at ten o'clock. The general was present, about twenty officers,
    and some of their ladies. I preached on the parable of the tares
    of the field. Much of the rest of the day I was in great
    distraction, owing to the incessant recurrence of thoughts about
    Lydia. My impatience and fear respecting her sometimes rose to
    such a height that I felt almost as at Falmouth, when I was
    leaving Europe, as I thought to see her no more. But in the
    evening it pleased the Lord to show me something of the awful
    nearness of the world of spirits, and the unmeasurable
    importance of my having my thoughts and cares devoted to my
    missionary work. Thus I obtained peace. I prayed in sincerity
    and fervour, that if there were any obstacle in the sight of
    God, the Lord might never suffer us to meet.

    _December 21._ (Sunday.)--In the evening, after a solemn season
    of prayer, I received letters from Europe, one from Cousin T.,
    Emma, Lydia, and others. The torrent of vivid affection which
    passed through my heart at receiving such assurances of regard
    continued almost without intermission for four hours. Yet, in
    reflection afterwards, the few words my dearest Lydia wrote
    turned my joy into tender sympathy with her. Who knows what her
    heart has suffered! After all, our God is our best portion; and
    it is true that if we are never permitted to meet, we shall
    enjoy blissful intercourse for ever in glory.

    _December 22._--Thinking far too much of dear Lydia all day.

    _December 23._--Set apart the chief part of this day for prayer,
    with fasting; but I do not know that my soul got much good. Oh,
    what need have I to be stirred up by the Spirit of God, to exert
    myself in prayer! Had no freedom or power in prayer, though some
    appearance of tenderness. Lydia is a snare to me; I think of her
    so incessantly, and with such foolish and extravagant fondness,
    that my heart is drawn away from God. Thought at night, Can that
    be true love which is other than God would have it? No; that
    which is lawful is most genuine when regulated by the holy law
    of God.

    _December 25._--Preached on 1 Tim. i. 15 to a large
    congregation. Those who remained at the Sacrament were chiefly
    ladies, and none of them young men. My heart still entangled
    with this idolatrous affection, and consequently unhappy.
    Sometimes I gained deliverance from it for a short time, and was
    happy in the love of God. How awful the thought, that while
    perishing millions demand my every thought and care, my mind
    should be distracted about such an extreme trifle as that of my
    own comfort! Oh, let me at last have done with it, and the
    merciful God save me from departing from Him, and committing
    that horrible crime of forsaking the fountain of living waters,
    and hewing out to myself broken cisterns.

As the delightful cold season of the Bihar uplands passed all too
quickly, and the dry hot winds of Upper India began to scorch its
plains, the solitary man began to think it 'impossible I could ever
subsist long in such a climate.' From April 1807 his hereditary
disease made rapid advances, while he reproached himself for lassitude
and comparative idleness, and put additional constraint on himself to
work and to pray unceasingly. From this time his _Journal_ has
frequent records of sickness, of loss of appetite, and of 'pain' in
his ministrations, ending in loss of voice altogether for a time.
Corrie and Brown and his other correspondents remonstrated, but they
were at a distance. He needed a watchful and authoritative nurse such
as only a wife could be, and he found only lack of sympathy or active
opposition. He lived, as we can now see, as no white man in the
tropics in any rank of life should live, from sheer simplicity,
unselfishness, and consuming zeal. When the hot winds drove him out of
the barracks, the first rainy season flooded his house. At all times
and amid the insanitary horrors of an Indian cemetery he had to bury
the dead of a large cantonment in a sickly season. His daily visits to
the hospital were prolonged, for there he came soul to soul with the
sinner, the penitent, and the rejoicing. And all the time he is
writing to Corrie and each of his friends, 'I feel anxious for your
health.' To marry officers and baptize children he had to make long
journeys by palanquin, and expose his wasting body alike to heat and
rain. But amid it all his courage never fails, for it is rooted in
God; his heart is joyful, for he has the peace that passeth all
understanding.

    _1807, May 18._--Through great mercy my health and strength are
    supported as by a daily miracle. But oh, the heat! By every
    device of darkness and tatties I cannot keep the thermometer
    below 92°, and at night in bed I seem in danger of suffocation.
    Let me know somewhat more particularly what the heat is, and how
    you contrive to bear it. The worst bad effect I experience is
    the utter loss of appetite. I dread the eating time.

    _July 7._--Heat still so great as to oblige me to abandon my
    quarters.

    _July 8._--Went to Bankipore to baptize a child. One of the
    ladies played some hymn-tunes on my account. If I were provided
    with proper books much good might be done by these visits, for I
    meet with general acceptance and deference. In the evening
    buried a man who had died in the hospital after a short illness.
    My conscience felt again a conviction of guilt at considering
    how many precious hours I waste on trifles, and how cold and
    lukewarm my spirit is when addressing souls.

    _August 23._ (Sunday.)--Preached on Job xix. 25-27: 'I know that
    my redeemer liveth.' There seemed little or no attention; only
    one officer there besides Major Young. At Hindustani prayers,
    the women few, but attentive; again blest with much freedom; at
    the hospital was seized with such pain from over-exertion of my
    voice, that I was obliged to leave off and go away.

To Brown he writes: 'The rains try my constitution. I am apt to be
troubled with shortness of breath, as at the time I left you. Another
rainy reason I must climb some hill and live there; but the Lord is
our rock. While there is work which _we_ must do, we shall live.'
Again in the early Sunday morning of August he dreamed--

    That as I was attacked so violently in July, but recovered, at
    the same time next year I should be attacked again, and carried
    off by death. This, however, would only be awaking in a better
    world. If I may but awake up satisfied with Thy likeness, why
    shall I be afraid? I think I have but one wish to live, which
    is, that I may do the Lord's work, particularly in the Persian
    and Hindustani translations; for this I could almost feel
    emboldened to supplicate, like Hezekiah, for prolongation of
    life, even after receiving this, which may be a warning.

After six months' experience of his Dinapore-cum-Patna parish, Martyn
sent in 'to the Associated Clergy' the first quarterly report of his
own spiritual life, and of his work for others.

    _April 6._--I begin my first communication to my dear and
    honoured brethren, with thankfully accepting their proposal of
    becoming a member of their society, and I bless the God and
    Father of our Lord Jesus Christ for this new instance of His
    mercy to His unworthy creature. May His grace and favour be
    vouchsafed to us, and His Holy Spirit direct all our
    proceedings, and sanctify our communications to the purposes for
    which we are united.

    On a review of the state of my mind since my arrival at
    Dinapore, I observe that the graces of joy and love have been at
    a low ebb. Faith has been chiefly called into exercise, and
    without a simple dependence on the Divine promises I should
    still every day sink into fatal despondency. Self-love and
    unbelief have been suggesting many foolish fears respecting the
    difficulties of my future work among the heathen. The thought of
    interrupting a crowd of busy people like those at Patna, whose
    every day is a market-day, with a message about eternity,
    without command of language sufficient to explain and defend
    myself, and so of becoming the scorn of the rabble without doing
    them good, was offensive to my pride. The manifest disaffection
    of the people, and the contempt with which they eyed me,
    confirmed my dread. Added to this the unjust proceedings of many
    of the principal magistrates hereabout led me to expect future
    commotions in the country, and that consequently poverty and
    murder would terminate my career.

    'Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof'--'As thy days are
    so shall thy strength be,' were passages continually brought to
    my remembrance, and with these at last my mind grew quiet. Our
    countrymen, when speaking of the natives, said, as they usually
    do, that they cannot be converted, and if they could they would
    be worse than they are. Though I have observed before now that
    the English are not in the way of knowing much about the
    natives, yet the number of difficulties they mentioned proved
    another source of discouragement to me. It is surprising how
    positively they are apt to speak on this subject, from their
    never acknowledging God in anything: 'Thy judgments are far
    above out of his sight.' If we labour to the end of our days
    without seeing one convert, it shall not be worse for us in
    time, and our reward is the same in eternity. The cause in which
    we are engaged is the cause of mercy and truth, and therefore,
    in spite of seeming impossibilities, it must eventually prevail.

    I have been also occasionally troubled with infidel thoughts,
    which originated perhaps from the cavillings of the Mohammedans
    about the person of Christ; but these have been never suffered
    to be more than momentary. At such times the awful holiness of
    the Word of God, and the deep seriousness pervading it, were
    more refreshing to my heart than the most encouraging promises
    in it. How despicable must the Koran appear with its mock
    majesty and paltry precepts to those who can read the Word of
    God! It must presently sink into contempt when the Scriptures
    are known.

    Sometimes when those fiery darts penetrated more deeply, I found
    safety only in cleaving to God, as a child clasps to his
    mother's neck. These things teach me the melancholy truth that
    the grace of a covenant God can alone keep me from apostasy and
    ruin.

    The European society here consists of the military at the
    cantonment and the civil servants at Bankipore. The latter
    neither come into church nor have accepted the offer of my
    coming to officiate to them. There is, however, no contempt
    shown, but rather respect. Of the military servants very few
    officers attend, and of late scarcely any of the married
    families, but the number of privates, and the families of the
    merchants, always make up a respectable congregation. They have
    as yet heard very little of the doctrines of the Gospel. I have
    in general endeavoured to follow the directions contained in Mr.
    Milner's letter on this subject, as given in Mr. Brown's paper,
    No. 4.

    At the hospital I have read Doddridge's _Rise and Progress_, and
    _The Pilgrim's Progress_. As the people objected to extempore
    preaching at church, I have in compliance with their desires
    continued to use a book. But on this subject I should be glad of
    some advice from my brethren.

    I think it needless to communicate the plans or heads of any of
    my sermons, as they have been chiefly on the Parables. It is of
    more importance to observe that the Word has not gone forth in
    vain, blessed be God! as it has hitherto seemed to do in most
    places where I have been called to minister; and this I feel to
    be an animating testimony of His presence and blessing. I think
    the commanding officer of the native regiment here and his lady
    are seeking their salvation in earnest; they now refuse all
    invitations on the Lord's day, and pass most of that day at
    least in reading the Word, and at all times discover an
    inclination to religious conversation. Among the privates, one I
    have little doubt is truly converted to God, and is a great
    refreshment to me. He parted at once with his native woman, and
    allows her a separate maintenance. His conversion has excited
    much notice and conversation about religion among the rest, and
    three join him in coming twice a week to my quarters for
    exposition, singing and prayer.

    I visit the English very little, and yet have had sufficient
    experience of the difficulty of knowing how a minister should
    converse with his people. I have myself fallen into the worst
    extreme, and, from fear of making them connect religion with
    gloom, have been led into such shameful levity and conformity to
    them as ought to fill me with grief and deep self-abasement.

    How repeatedly has guilt been brought upon my conscience in this
    way! Oh, how will the lost souls with whom I have trifled the
    hours away look at me in the day of judgment! I hope I am more
    and more convinced of the wickedness and folly of assuming any
    other character than that of a minister. I ought to consider
    that my proper business with the flock over which the Holy Ghost
    hath made me overseer is the business of another world, and if
    they will not consider it in the same light, I do not think that
    I am bound to visit them.

    About the middle of last month, the Church service being ready
    in Hindustani, I submitted to the commanding officer of the
    European regiment a proposal to perform Divine service
    regularly for the native women of his regiment, to which he
    cordially assented. The whole number of women, about 200,
    attended with great readiness, and have continued to do so.
    Instead of a sermon, the Psalms, and the appointed lessons, I
    read in two portions the Gospel of St. Matthew regularly
    forward, and occasionally make some small attempts at
    expounding. The conversion of any of such despised people is
    never likely perhaps to be of any extensive use in regard to the
    natives at large; but they are a people committed to me by God,
    and as dear to Him as others; and next in order after the
    English, they come within the expanding circle of action.

    After much trouble and delay, three schools have been
    established for the native children on Mr. Creighton's plan--one
    at Dinapore, one at Bankipore, and one at Patna, at the last of
    which the Persian character is taught as well as the Nagri. The
    number of children already is about sixty. The other
    schoolmasters, not liking the introduction of these free
    schools, spread the report that my intention was to make them
    Christians, and send them to Europe; in consequence of which the
    zemindars retracted their promises of land, and the parents
    refused to send their children; but my schoolmasters very
    sensibly went to the people, and told them, 'We are men well
    known among you, and when we are made Christians then do you
    begin to fear.' So their apprehensions have subsided; but when
    the book of Parables, which is just finished, is put into their
    hands, I expect a revival of their fears. My hope is that I
    shall be able to ingratiate myself a little with the people
    before that time; but chiefly that a gracious God will not
    suffer Satan to keep his ground any longer, now that the
    appointed means are used to dislodge him. But, though these
    plans should fail, I hope to be strengthened to fight against
    him all my days. For, from what I feel within and see without, I
    know enough of him to vow, with my brethren, eternal enmity
    against him and his cause.

    Respecting the state of the natives hereabouts, I believe that
    the Hindus are lax, for the rich men being few or none, there
    are few Brahmins and few _tumashas_ (_fêtes_), and without these
    idolatry droops. The Mohammedans are numerous and ignorant, but
    from the best of them I cannot learn that more than three
    arguments can be offered for their religion, which are--the
    miracles wrought by Mohammed, those still wrought by his
    followers, and his challenge in the second chapter of the Koran,
    about producing a chapter like it, all of which are immediately
    answered.

    If my brethren have any others brought forward to them they
    will, I hope, mention them; and if they have observed any remark
    or statement apparently affect a native's mind, they will notice
    it.

    Above all things, _seriousness_ in argument with them seems most
    desirable, for without it they laugh away the clearest proofs.
    Zeal for making proselytes they are used to, and generally
    attribute to a false motive; but a tender concern manifested for
    their souls is certainly new to them, and seemingly produces
    corresponding seriousness in their minds.

    From an officer who had been in the Mahratta service, I learned
    some time ago that there were large bodies of Christians at
    Narwa, in the Mahratta dominions, Sardhana, Delhi, Agra, Bettia,
    Boglipore. To obtain more information respecting them, I sent a
    circular letter to the missionaries residing at the three latter
    places, and have received two letters in reply. The padre at
    Boglipore is a young man just arrived, and his letter contains
    no information. From the letter of the padre at Agra I subjoin
    some extracts, premising that my questions were: 1. By whom were
    you sent? 2. How long has a mission been established in the
    place of your residence? 3. Do you itinerate, and to what
    distance? 4. Have you any portion of the MSS. translated, or do
    you distribute tracts? 5. Do you allow any remains of caste to
    the baptized? 6. Have you schools? are the masters heathen or
    Christians? 7. Is there any native preacher or catechist? 8.
    Number of converts.

    In concluding my report, I take the liberty of proposing two
    questions on which I should be thankful for communications in
    your next quarterly report.

    1. On the manner in which a minister should observe the Sabbath;
    whether he should make it a point of duty to leave no part of
    his discourses to prepare on that day? Whether our particular
    situation in this country, requiring redoubled exertion in those
    of us at least who are called to the heathen, will justify the
    introduction of a secular work into the Sabbath, such as
    translating the Scriptures, etc.?

    2. In the commencement of our labours among the heathen, to
    which model should our preaching be conformed,--to that of John
    the Baptist and our Saviour, or that of the Apostles? The first
    mode seems more natural, and if necessary for the Jews,
    comparatively so enlightened, how much more for the heathen, who
    have scarcely any notions of morality! On the other hand, the
    preaching of the cross has in all ages won the most ignorant
    savages; and the Apostles preached it at once to heathens as
    ignorant perhaps as these.

Like Marshman and the Serampore missionaries, Henry Martyn kept up a
Latin correspondence with the missionaries sent from Rome by the
Propaganda to the stations founded by Xavier, and those afterwards
established by that saint's nephew in the days of the tolerant Akbar.
At the beginning of this century, Anglican, Baptist, and Romanist
missionaries all over the East co-operated with each other in
translation work and social intercourse. More than once Martyn
protected the priest at Patna from the persecution of the military
authorities. He planned a visit to their station at Bettia, to the far
north, at the foot of the Himalayas. In hospital his ministrations
were always offered to the Irish soldiers in the absence of their own
priest, and always without any controversial reference. In his
_Journal_ he is often indignant at the Popish perversion of the
doctrines of grace, and in preaching he occasionally set forth the
truth, but in pastoral and social intercourse he never failed to show
the charity of the Christian scholar and the gentleman.

Major Young, with his wife, was the first of the officers to welcome
Martyn's preaching. Soon the men in hospital learned to appreciate his
daily visits, and to attend to his earnest reading and talk. A few
began to meet with him at his own house regularly, for prayer and the
exposition of Holy Scripture. In January, he writes of one Sunday:
'Great attention. I think the Word is not going forth in vain. In the
afternoon read at the hospital. The steward I found had been long
stationed at Tanjore and knew Schwartz; that Schwartz baptized the
natives not by immersion, but by sprinkling, and with godfathers, and
read the services both in English and Tamil. Felt much delighted at
hearing anything about him. The man told me that the men at the
hospital were very attentive and thankful that I came amongst them.
Passed the evening with great joy and peace in singing hymns.' In the
heat of May he writes: 'Found fifty sick at the hospital, who heard
_The Pilgrim's Progress_ with great delight. Some men came to-night,
but my prayer with them was exceedingly poor and lifeless.'

In these days, thanks to Lord Lawrence and Sir Henry Norman, there is a
prayer-hall in every cantonment, ever open for the soldier who seeks
quiet communion with God. Then--'Six soldiers came to me to-night. To
escape as much as possible the taunts of their wicked companions, they
go out of their barracks in opposite directions to come to me. At night
a young Scotsman of the European regiment came to me for a hymn-book. He
expressed with tears his past wickedness and determination to lead a
religious life.' On the other side we have such passages as these: 'What
sort of men are these committed to my care? I had given them one more
warning about their whoredom and drunkenness, and it's the truth
grappling with their consciences that makes them furious.' Of the
Company's European regiment he writes to Corrie: 'A more wicked set of
men were, I suppose, never seen. The general, the colonel of the 67th,
and their own colonel all acknowledge it. At the hospital when I visit
their part, some go to a corner and invoke blasphemies upon me because,
as they now believe, the man I speak to dies to a certainty.' A young
lieutenant of fine abilities he recommended strenuously to go into the
ministry.

Although, fifteen years before, Sir John Shore had given orders as to
the building of churches at military stations, and Lord Wellesley had
set an example of interest in the moral and spiritual welfare of the
Company's servants, nothing had been done outside of the three
Presidency cities. All that Henry Martyn found provided for him, as
chaplain, on his first Sunday at Dinapore, was a long drum, on which
he placed the Prayer-book. He was requested not to preach, because the
men could not stand so long. He found the men playing at fives on
Sunday. All that he soon changed, by an appeal to the general to put
a stop to the games on Sunday, and by holding service at first in a
barrack, and then in his own house. Before leaving Calcutta he had
observed, in a conversation with the Governor-General, on the disgrace
of there being no places of worship at the principal subordinate
stations; upon which directions were given to prepare plans of
building. He wrote to the equally troubled Corrie at Chunar. A year
later nothing had been done, and he draws this picture to Corrie:
'From the scandalous disorder in which the Company have left the
ecclesiastical part of their affairs, so that we have no place fit,
our assemblies are little like worshipping assemblies. No kneeling
because no room; no singing, no responses.' At last Sir George Barlow
sent an order for an estimate for building a church, but Martyn had
left for Cawnpore, only to see a worse state of things there. But the
faithfulness of the 'black' chaplains was telling. He writes, on March
14, 1808:

    The 67th are now all here. The number of their sick makes the
    hospital congregation very considerable, so that if I had no
    natives, translations, etc., to think of, there is call enough
    for my labours and prayers among all these Europeans. The
    general at my request has determined to make the whole body of
    troops attend in three divisions; and yesterday morning the
    Company's European, and two companies of the King's, came to
    church in great pomp, with a fine band of music playing. The
    King's officers, according to their custom, have declared their
    intention not to call upon the Company's; therefore I mean to
    call upon them. I believe I told you that 900 of the 67th are
    Roman Catholics. It seemed an uncommonly splendid Mohurrum here
    also. Mr. H., an assistant judge lately appointed to Patna,
    joined the procession in a Hindustani dress, and went about
    beating his breast, etc. This is a place remarkable for such
    folly. The old judge, you know, has built a mosque here, and the
    other judge issued an order that no marriage nor any feasting
    should be held during the season of Mohammedan grief. A
    remarkably sensible young man called on me yesterday with the
    Colonel; they both seem well disposed to religion. I receive
    many gratifying testimonies to the change apparently taking
    place among the English in religious matters in India;
    testimonies, I mean, from the mouths of the people, for I
    confess I do not observe much myself.

Having translated the Church Service into Hindustani, Henry Martyn was
ready publicly to minister to the native women belonging to the
soldiers of the Company's European regiment. From such unions, rarely
lawful, sprang the now great and important Eurasian community, many of
whom have done good service to the Church and the Empire. 'The Colonel
approved, but told me that it was my business to find them an order,
and not his.'

    _1807, March 23._--So I issued my command to the Sergeant-Major
    to give public notice in the barracks that there would be Divine
    service in the native language on the morrow. The morrow came,
    and the Lord sent 200 women, to whom I read the whole of the
    morning service. Instead of the lessons I began Matthew, and
    ventured to expound a little, and but a little. Yesterday we had
    a service again, but I think there were not more than 100. To
    these I opened my mouth rather more boldly, and though there was
    the appearance of lamentable apathy in the countenances of most
    of them, there were two or three who understood and trembled at
    the sermon of John the Baptist. This proceeding of mine is, I
    believe, generally approved among the English, but the women
    come, I fear, rather because it is the wish of their masters.
    The day after attending service they went in flocks to the
    Mohurrum, and even of those who are baptized, many, I am told,
    are so addicted to their old heathenism, that they obtain money
    from their husbands to give to the Brahmins. Our time of Divine
    service in English is seven in the morning, and in Hindustani
    two in the afternoon. May the Lord smile on this first attempt
    at ministration in the native language!

    _1807, March 23._--A few days ago I went to Bankipore to fulfil
    my promise of visiting the families there; and amongst the rest
    called on a poor creature whose black wife has made him
    apostatise to Mohammedanism and build a mosque. Major Young went
    with me, and the old man's son-in-law was there. He would not
    address a single word to me, nor a salutation at parting,
    because I found an occasion to remind him that the Son of God
    had suffered in the stead of sinners. The same day I went on to
    Patna to see how matters stood with respect to the school. Its
    situation is highly favourable, near an old gate now in the
    midst of the city, and where three ways meet; neither master nor
    children were there. The people immediately gathered round me in
    great numbers, and the crowd thickened so fast, that it was with
    difficulty I could regain my palanquin. I told them that what
    they understood by making people Christians was not my
    intention; I wished the children to be taught to fear God and
    become good men, and that if, after this declaration, they were
    still afraid, I could do no more; the fault was not mine, but
    theirs. My schools have been heard of among the English sooner
    than I wished or expected. The General observed to me one
    morning that that school of mine made a very good appearance
    from the road; 'but,' said he, 'you will make no proselytes.' If
    that be all the opposition he makes, I shall not much mind.

A week later he wrote:

    _March 30._--Sick in body, but rather serious and humble in
    spirit, and so happy; corrected the Parables for a fair copy.
    Reading the Koran and Hindustani Ramayuna, and translating
    Revelation; a German sergeant came with his native woman to have
    her baptized; I talked with her a good while, in order to
    instruct her, and found her extraordinarily quick in
    comprehension.

    _April 1._--The native woman came again, and I passed a great
    deal of time in instructing her in the nature of the Gospel;
    but, alas! till the Lord touch her heart, what can a man do? At
    night the soldiers came, and we had again a very happy time; how
    graciously the Lord fulfils His promise of being where two or
    three are gathered together! The pious soldier grows in faith
    and love, and spoke of another who wants to join us. They said
    that the native women accounted it a great honour to be
    permitted to come to a church and hear the Word of God, and
    wondered why I should take such trouble for them.

'How shall it ever be possible to convince a Hindu or Brahmin of
anything?' wrote Henry Martyn to Corrie after two years' experience in
Bengal.

    _1808, January 4._--Truly, if ever I see a Hindu a real believer
    in Jesus, I shall see something more nearly approaching the
    resurrection of a dead body than anything I have yet seen.
    However, I well remember Mr. Ward's words, 'The common people
    are angels compared with the Brahmins.' Perhaps the strong man
    armed, that keeps the goods in peace, shall be dispossessed from
    these, when the mighty Word of God comes to be ministered by us.

'We shall live to see better days.' For these he prepared his
translations of the Word of God. He wished to itinerate among the
people, but his military duties kept him to the station. When Mr.
Brown made another attempt to get him fixed in the Mission-Church he
replied, 'The evangelisation of India is a more important object than
preaching to the European inhabitants of Calcutta.' To Corrie he
wrote: 'Those sequestered valleys seen from Chunar present an inviting
field for missionary labours. A Sikh, making a pilgrimage to Benares,
came to me; he was very ignorant, and I do not know whether he
understood what I endeavoured to show him about the folly of
pilgrimages, the nature of true holiness, and the plan of the Gospel.'

    _1808, February 12._--Sabat describes so well the character of a
    missionary that I am ashamed of my great house, and mean to sell
    it the first opportunity, and take the smallest quarters I can
    find. Would that the day were come when I might throw off the
    coat and substitute the jamer; I long for it more and more; and
    am often very uneasy at being in the neighbourhood of so great a
    Nineveh without being able to do anything immediately for the
    salvation of so many perishing souls. What do you think of my
    standing under a shed somewhere in Patna as the missionaries did
    in the Lal Bazar? Will the Government interfere? What are your
    sensations on the late news? I fear the judgments of God on our
    proud nation, and that, as we have done nothing for the Gospel
    in India, this vineyard will be let out to others who shall
    bring the fruits of it in their season. I think the French would
    not treat Juggernaut with quite so much ceremony as we do.

Above all men in India, at that time and during the next half-century,
however, Henry Martyn was a missionary to the Mohammedans. For them he
learned and he translated Hindustani, Persian, and Arabic. With their
moulvies he conducted controversies; and for years he associated with
himself that extraordinary Arab, Sabat, who made life a burden to him.

Sabat and Abdallah, two Arabs of notable pedigree, becoming friends,
resolved to travel together. After a visit to Mecca they went to
Cabul, where Abdallah entered the service of Zeman Shah, the famous
Ameer. There an Armenian lent him the Arabic Bible, he became a
Christian, and he fled for his life to Bokhara. Sabat had preceded him
there, and at once recognised him on the street. 'I had no pity,' said
Sabat afterwards. 'I delivered him up to Morad Shah, the king.' He was
offered his life if he would abjure Christ. He refused. Then one of
his hands was cut off, and again he was pressed to recant. 'He made no
answer, but looked up steadfastly towards heaven, like Stephen, the
first martyr, his eyes streaming with tears. He looked at me, but it
was with the countenance of forgiveness. His other hand was then cut
off. But he never changed, and when he bowed his head to receive the
blow of death all Bokhara seemed to say, "What new thing is this?"'

Remorse drove Sabat to long wanderings, in which he came to Madras,
where the Government gave him the office of mufti, or expounder of the
law of Islam in the civil courts. At Vizagapatam he fell in with a
copy of the Arabic New Testament as revised by Solomon Negri, and sent
out to India by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge in the
middle of last century. He compared it with the Koran, the truth fell
on him 'like a flood of light,' and he sought baptism in Madras at the
hands of the Rev. Dr. Kerr. He was named Nathaniel. He was then
twenty-seven years of age.

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_:

    _1808, May 9._--A letter from my dear friend in India
    (requesting me to come out) reached me. These words form my
    comfort: 'Be still, and know that I am God.' I see my duty
    pointed out, and am persuaded, dark as the prospect is, God will
    appear God in this matter; whether we meet again or not, His
    great power and goodness will be displayed--it has been in
    quieting my heart, for oh, the trial is not small of seeing the
    state of his mind. But I am to be still, and now, O Lord, let
    Thy love fill my soul, let it be supreme in his breast and mine;
    there is no void where Thou dwellest, whatever else is wanting.

    _May 11._--My mind distressed, perplexed, and troubled for my
    dear friend; much self-reflection for having suffered him to see
    my regard for him (and what it is), yet the comforts of God's
    Word return--'Why take ye thought?' said our Lord. Yet to-morrow
    burdens the present day. Oh, pity and support me to bear the
    thought of injuring his peace--inquire if the cause is of God.

    _May 15._--Lord, Thou seest my wanderings--oh, how many, how
    great! Put my tears into Thy bottle. Yes, my Lord, I can forsake
    Thee and be content; I turn and turn, restless and miserable,
    till I am turned to Thee. What a week have I passed! never may
    such another pass over my head!--my thoughts wholly occupied
    about my absent friend--distressed for his distress, and full of
    self-reproaches for all that's past--writing bitter things
    against myself--my heart alienated dreadfully from God--and the
    duties I am in the habit of performing all neglected. Oh, should
    the Lord not awake for me and draw me back, whither should I go?
    His Word has been my comfort at times, but Satan or conscience
    (I doubt which) tells me I am in a delusion to take the comfort
    of God's Word, for I ought to suffer. But am I justified in
    putting comfort from me? since I no way excuse myself, but am, I
    trust, humbled for my imprudence in letting my friend know the
    state of mind towards him, and this is all I have injured him
    in. I accuse myself, too, for want of candour with my family,
    and oh, let me not forget the greatest offence of all--not
    consulting the will and glory of God in indulging and
    encouraging a regard He seems to frown on. I have to-day found
    deliverance, and felt some measure of calm reliance. I know
    there is a particular providence over him and me, but this
    belief does not lessen my fears of acting wrong--I am as
    responsible as if all were left to me. What shall I do but say,
    Because Thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of Thy
    wings will I trust? I fly to Thy power and take shelter in Thy
    love to sinners. Oh, for a continually bleeding heart, mourning
    for sin!

    _June 12._--I have peace in my soul to-day. My remembrance of
    God's dear saint in India is frequent, but I am still in this
    affair, and expect to know more of the infinite power, wisdom,
    and goodness of our God in it and by it than I have heretofore.
    My prayer for him constantly is that he maybe supported, guided,
    and made in all things obedient and submissive to the will of
    his God.

Henry Martyn seems to have written again to Marazion, at this time, a
letter which has not been preserved, for Lydia Grenfell thus refers to
it:

    _August 29._--Heard of my absent dear friend by this day's post,
    and was strangely affected, though the intelligence was
    satisfactory in every respect. I sought deliverance in prayer,
    and the Lord spoke peace to my agitated mind, and gave me what I
    desired--liberty of soul to return to Himself, and the
    contemplation of heavenly things, though a sadness remained on
    my spirit. Heard three sermons, for I thought it best to be less
    alone than usual, lest my thoughts should wander. Found great
    hardness of heart in the services of the day, but I doubt
    whether my affections were spiritual or not, though they arose
    from a longing to be in heaven, and a joyful sense of the
    certainty that God would bring me there.

    _September 11._--After some days of darkness and distress, sweet
    peace and light return, and my soul rests on God as my
    all-sufficient help. Oh, the idolatrous state of my heart! what
    painful discoveries are made to me! I see the stream of my
    affections has been turned from God and on.... An exertion must
    be made, like cutting off a right hand, in order to give Thee, O
    Lord, my heart. I must hear neither of nor from the person God
    has called in His providence to serve Him in a distant country.
    Oh, to be resolute, knowing by woeful experience the necessity
    of guarding my thoughts against the remembrance of one, though
    dear. As I value the presence of my God, I must avoid everything
    that leads my thoughts to this subject--O Lord, keep me
    dependent on Thee for grace to do so; Thou hast plainly informed
    me of Thy will by withholding Thy presence at this time, and Thy
    Word directed me to lay aside this weight.

    _October 30._--Thought of my dear friend to-night with
    tenderness, but entire resignation to Thy will, O our God, in
    never seeing or hearing from him again; to meet him above is my
    desire.

    _December 30._--I reckon among my mercies the Lord's having
    enabled me to choose a single life, and that my friend in India
    has been so well reconciled to my determination. That trial was
    a sore one, and I believe the effects of it will be felt as long
    as I live. My weak frame could not support the perturbed state
    of my mind, and the various painful apprehensions that assailed
    me on his arrival nearly wore me down. But the Lord removed them
    all by showing me He approved of my choice, and in granting me
    the tidings of his enjoying peace and happiness in our
    separation. Every burden now respecting him is removed, and my
    soul has only to praise the wise and gracious hand which brought
    me through that thorny path. It was one I made to myself, by
    ever entering into a correspondence with him, and by expressing
    too freely my regard.

On March 28, 1809, Martyn wrote to Mr. Brown:

    Your letter is just come. The Europe letter is from Lydia. I
    trembled at the handwriting.... It was only more last words,
    sent by the advice of Colonel Sandys, lest the non-arrival of
    the former might keep me in suspense.... I trust that I have
    done with the entanglements of this world; seldom a day passes
    but I thank God for the freedom from earthly care which I enjoy.

And so end Henry Martyn's love-letters, marked by a delicacy as well
as tenderness of feeling in such contrast to the action of Lydia
Grenfell throughout, as to explain the mingled resentment and
resignation in which they close. The request for a mutual engagement
which would justify correspondence at least seems to have been
unheeded for some months, till the news of his serious illness in July
1808 led her again to write to him, as taking the place of his sister
who had been removed by death. He was ordered to Cawnpore, and set off
in the hot season by Chunar and Ghazipore, writing these last words on
April 11, 1809, from Dinapore:

    My men seem to be in a more flourishing state than they have yet
    been. About thirty attend every night. I had a delightful party
    this week, of six young men, who will, I hope, prove to be true
    soldiers of Christ. Seldom, even at Cambridge, have I been so
    much pleased.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] Even in 1889 we find a Patna missionary writing of his work from
Bankipore as a centre: 'The people in every village, except those on
the Dinapore road, said that no Sahib had ever been in their village
before. Sometimes my approach was the cause of considerable alarm.'

[27] _Memoir of the Rev. Thomas Thomason, M.A._, by Rev. J. Sargent,
M.A., 2nd edition, 1834, London.

[28] Rev. Dr. Milner.

[29] The names of Capt. Dare and Mrs. Dare occur in the _Journals and
Letters_ between February 17 and March 24, 1808, wherein Martyn's
relations with them are described just as in this set of letters.

[30] Mrs. Laura Curgenven: born January 1779, died in the year 1807.

[31] See Moule's _Charles Simeon_, p. 201.



CHAPTER VII

CAWNPORE, 1809-1810


Mrs. Sherwood, known in the first decade of this century as a writer
of such Anglo-Indian tales as _Little Henry and his Bearer_, and as a
philanthropist who did much for the white and the dark orphans of
British soldiers in India, was one of the many who came under the
influence of Henry Martyn. This Lichfield girl, whose father had been
the playmate of Samuel Johnson, and who had known Garrick and Dr.
Darwin, Hannah More and Maria Edgeworth, had married her cousin, the
paymaster of the King's 53rd Regiment of Foot. The regiment was sent
to Bengal. On its way up the Hoogli from Calcutta in boats, Mr.
Sherwood and his wife were walking after sunset, when they stumbled on
'a small society' of their own men, who met regularly to read their
Bibles and to pray, often in old stores, ravines, woods, and other
retired places. 'The very existence of any person in the barracks who
had the smallest notion of the importance of religion was quite
unsuspected by me,' writes Mrs. Sherwood in her Autobiography.[32] 'I
am not severe when I assert that at that time there really was not one
in the higher ranks in the regiment who had courage enough to come
forward and say, "I think it right, in this distant land, to do, as
it regards religion, what I have been accustomed to do at home."' At
Berhampore, the chaplain, Mr. Parson, began that good work in the 53rd
which Martyn and Corrie afterwards carried on. When it continued the
voyage up the Ganges, after a season, by Dinapore to Cawnpore, Mr.
Parson gave the Sherwoods a letter of introduction to Martyn, then
about to leave Dinapore. To this fact we owe the fullest and the
brightest glimpses that we get of Henry Martyn, from the outside, all
through his career. We are enabled to supplement the abasing
self-revelation of his nature before God, as recorded in his
_Journal_, by the picture of his daily life, drawn by a woman of keen
sympathy and some shrewdness.

The moment the boat anchored at Dinapore Mr. Sherwood set out on foot
to present his letter. He found the chaplain in the smaller square, at
some distance, in a 'sort of church-like abode with little furniture,
the rooms wide and high, with many vast doorways, having their green
jalousied doors, and long verandahs encompassing two sides of the
quarters.'

    Mr. Martyn received Mr. Sherwood not as a stranger, but as a
    brother,--the child of the same father. As the sun was already
    low, he must needs walk back with him to see me. I perfectly
    remember the figure of that simple-hearted and holy young man,
    when he entered our budgerow. He was dressed in white, and
    looked very pale, which, however, was nothing singular in India;
    his hair, a light brown, was raised from his forehead, which was
    a remarkably fine one. His features were not regular, but the
    expression was so luminous, so intellectual, so affectionate, so
    beaming with Divine charity, that no one could have looked at
    his features, and thought of their shape or form,--the
    out-beaming of his soul would absorb the attention of every
    observer. There was a very decided air, too, of the gentleman
    about Mr. Martyn, and a perfection of manners which, from his
    extreme attention to all minute civilities, might seem almost
    inconsistent with the general bent of his thoughts to the most
    serious subjects. He was as remarkable for ease as for
    cheerfulness, and in these particulars his _Journal_ does not
    give a graphic account of this blessed child of God. I was much
    pleased at the first sight of Mr. Martyn. I had heard much of
    him from Mr. Parson; but I had no anticipation of his hereafter
    becoming so distinguished as he subsequently did. And if I
    anticipated it little, he, I am sure, anticipated it less; for
    he was one of the humblest of men.

    Mr. Martyn invited us to visit him at his quarters at Dinapore,
    and we agreed to accept his invitation the next day. Mr.
    Martyn's house was destitute of every comfort, though he had
    multitudes of people about him. I had been troubled with a pain
    in my face, and there was not such a thing as a pillow in the
    house. I could not find anything to lay my head on at night but
    a bolster stuffed as hard as a pin-cushion. We had not, as is
    usual in India, brought our own bedding from the boats. Our kind
    friend had given us his own room; but I could get no rest during
    the two nights of my remaining there, from the pain in my face,
    which was irritated by the bolster; but during each day,
    however, there was much for the mind to feed upon with delight.
    After breakfast Mr. Martyn had family prayers, which he
    commenced by singing a hymn. He had a rich, deep voice, and a
    fine taste for vocal music. After singing, he read a chapter,
    explained parts of it, and prayed extempore. Afterwards he
    withdrew to his studies and translations. The evening was
    finished with another hymn, Scripture reading, and prayers. The
    conversion of the natives and the building up of the kingdom of
    Christ were the great objects for which alone that child of God
    seemed to exist.

    He believed that he saw the glimmering of this day in the
    exertions then making in Europe for the diffusion of the
    Scriptures and the sending forth of missionaries. Influenced by
    the belief that man's ministry was the instrumentality which, by
    the Holy Spirit, would be made effectual to the work, we found
    him labouring beyond his strength, and doing all in his power to
    excite other persons to use the same exertions.

    Henry Martyn was one of the very few persons whom I have ever
    met who appeared never to be drawn away from one leading and
    prevailing object of interest, and that object was the promotion
    of religion. He did not appear like one who felt the necessity
    of contending with the world, and denying himself its delights,
    but rather as one who was unconscious of the existence of any
    attractions in the world, or of any delights which were worthy
    of his notice. When he relaxed from his labours in the presence
    of his friends, it was to play and laugh like an innocent, happy
    child, more especially if children were present to play and
    laugh with him. In my Indian Journal I find this remark: 'Mr.
    Martyn is one of the most pleasing, mild, and heavenly-minded
    men, walking in this turbulent world with peace in his mind, and
    charity in his heart.'

As the regiment was passing Chunar, after a night in 'the polluted
air' of Benares, the Sherwoods were met by a boat with fresh bread and
vegetables from Corrie. On their arrival at Cawnpore, Mrs. Sherwood at
once opened two classes for the 'great boys' and 'elder girls.' Many
of the former died in a few years, and not a few of the latter married
officers above their own birth. Such were the conditions of military
life in India at that time, notwithstanding the Calcutta Orphan
Schools which David Brown had first gone out to India to organise; for
Henry Lawrence and his noble wife, Honoria, with their Military Orphan
Asylums in the hills, belonged to a later generation.

When first ordered to Cawnpore, in the hottest months of 1809, Henry
Martyn resolved to apply to the Military Board for permission to delay
his departure till the rainy season. But, though even then wasted by
consumption and ceaseless toil, and tempted to spend the dreary months
with the beloved Corrie at Chunar, as he might well have done under
the customary rules, he could not linger when duty called. Had he not
resolved to 'burn out' his life? So, deluding himself by the intention
to 'stay a little longer to recruit' at Chunar, should he suffer from
the heat, he set off in the middle of April in a palanquin by Arrah,
afterwards the scene of a heroic defence in the great Mutiny; Buxar,
where a battle had been fought not long before, and Ghazipore, seat of
the opium manufacture, like Patna. Sabat was sent on in a budgerow,
with his wife Ameena and the baggage. This is Martyn's account, to
Brown, of the voyage above Chunar:

                                              Cawnpore: May 3, 1809.

    I transported myself with such rapidity to this place that I had
    nearly transported myself out of the world. From Dinapore to
    Chunar all was well, but from Allahabad to that place I was
    obliged to travel two days and nights without intermission, the
    hot winds blowing like fire from a furnace. Two days after my
    arrival the fever which had been kindling in my blood broke out,
    and last night I fainted repeatedly. But a gracious God has
    again interposed to save my life; to-day I feel well again.
    Where Sabat is I do not know. I have heard nothing of him since
    leaving Dinapore. Corrie is well, but it is grievous to see him
    chained to a rock with a few half-dead invalids, when so many
    stations--amongst others, the one I have left--are destitute....

    I do not like this place at all. There is no church, not so much
    as the fly of a tent; what to do I know not except to address
    Lord Minto in a private letter. Mr. (Charles) Grant, who is
    anxious that we should labour principally for the present among
    the Europeans, ought, I think, to help us with a house. I mean
    to write to Mr. Simeon about this.

    I feel a little uncomfortable at being so much farther removed
    from Calcutta. At Dinapore I had friends on both sides of me,
    and correspondence with you was quick: here I seem cut off from
    the world. Alas! how dependent is my heart upon the creature
    still. I am ordered to seal up.--Yours affectionately ever,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

This is Mrs. Sherwood's description of his arrival:

    On May 30 the Rev. Henry Martyn arrived at our bungalow. The
    former chaplain had proceeded to the presidency, and we were so
    highly favoured as to have Mr. Martyn appointed in his place. I
    am not aware whether we expected him, but certainly not at the
    time when he did appear. It was in the morning, and we were
    situated as above described, the desert winds blowing like fire
    without, when we suddenly heard the quick steps of many bearers.
    Mr. Sherwood ran out to the leeward of the house, and exclaimed,
    'Mr. Martyn!' The next moment I saw him leading in that
    excellent man, and saw our visitor, a moment afterwards, fall
    down in a fainting fit. He had travelled in a palanquin from
    Dinapore, and the first part of the way he moved only by night.
    But between Cawnpore and Allahabad, being a hundred and thirty
    miles, there is no resting-place, and he was compelled for two
    days and two nights to journey on in his palanquin, exposed to
    the raging heat of a fiery wind. He arrived, therefore, quite
    exhausted, and actually under the influence of fever. There was
    not another family in Cawnpore except ours to which he could
    have gone with pleasure; not because any family would have
    denied shelter to a countryman in such a condition, but, alas!
    they were only Christians in name. In his fainting state Mr.
    Martyn could not have retired to the sleeping-room which we
    caused to be prepared immediately for him, because we had no
    means of cooling any sleeping-room so thoroughly as we could the
    hall. We, therefore, had a couch set for him in the hall. There
    he was laid, and very ill he was for a day or two. The hot winds
    left us, and we had a close, suffocating calm. Mr. Martyn could
    not lift his head from the couch. In our bungalow, when shut up
    as close as it could be, we could not get the thermometer under
    96°, though the punkah was constantly going. When Mr. Martyn got
    a little better he became very cheerful, and seemed quite happy
    with us all about him. He commonly lay on his couch in the hall
    during the morning, with many books near to his hand, and
    amongst these always a Hebrew Bible and a Greek Testament. Soon,
    very soon, he began to talk to me of what was passing in his
    mind, calling to me at my table to tell me his thoughts. He was
    studying the Hebrew characters, having an idea, which I believe
    is not a new one, that these characters contain the elements of
    all things, though I have reason to suppose he could not make
    them out at all to his satisfaction; but whenever anything
    occurred to him he must needs make it known to me.

    He was much engaged also with another subject, into which I was
    more capable of entering. It was his opinion that, if the Hindus
    could be persuaded that all nations are made of one blood, to
    dwell upon the face of the earth, and if they could be shown how
    each nation is connected by its descent from the sons and
    grandsons of Noah with other nations existing upon the globe, it
    would be a means of breaking down, or at least of loosening,
    that wall of separation which they have set up between
    themselves and all other people. With this view Mr. Martyn was
    endeavouring to trace up the various leading families of the
    earth to their great progenitors; and so much pleased was I
    with what he said on this subject, that I immediately committed
    all I could remember to paper, and founded thereupon a system of
    historical instruction which I ever afterwards used with my
    children. Mr. Martyn, like myself at this time, was often
    perplexed and dismayed at the workings of his own heart, yet,
    perhaps, not discerning a hundredth part of the depth of the
    depravity of his own nature, the character of which is summed up
    in Holy Writ in these two words--'utterly unclean.' He felt this
    the more strongly because he partook also of that new nature
    'which sinneth not.' It was in the workings and actings of that
    nature that his character shone so pre-eminently as it did amid
    a dark and unbelieving society, such as was ours then at
    Cawnpore.

    In a very few days he had discerned the sweet qualities of the
    orphan Annie, and had so encouraged her to come about him that
    she drew her chair, and her table, and her green box to the
    vicinity of his couch. She showed him her verses, and consulted
    him about the adoption of more passages into the number of her
    favourites. Annie had a particular delight in all the pastoral
    views given in Scripture of our Saviour and of His Church; and
    when Mr. Martyn showed her this beautiful passage, 'Feed Thy
    people with Thy rod, the flock of Thine heritage, which dwell
    solitarily in the wood, in the midst of Carmel' (Micah vii. 14),
    she was as pleased with this passage as if she had made some
    wonderful acquisition. What could have been more beautiful than
    to see the Senior Wrangler and the almost infant Annie thus
    conversing together, whilst the elder seemed to be in no ways
    conscious of any condescension in bringing down his mind to the
    level of the child's? Such are the beautiful influences of the
    Divine Spirit, which, whilst they depress the high places of
    human pride, exalt the lowly valleys.

    When Mr. Martyn lost the worst symptoms of his illness he used
    to sing a great deal. He had an uncommonly fine voice and fine
    ear; he could sing many fine chants, and a vast variety of hymns
    and psalms. He would insist upon it that I should sing with him,
    and he taught me many tunes, all of which were afterwards
    brought into requisition; and when fatigued himself, he made me
    sit by his couch and practise these hymns. He would listen to my
    singing, which was altogether very unscientific, for hours
    together, and he was constantly requiring me to go on, even when
    I was tired. The tunes he taught me, no doubt, reminded him of
    England, and of scenes and friends no longer seen. The more
    simple the style of singing, the more it probably answered his
    purpose.

    As soon as Mr. Martyn could in any way exert himself, he made
    acquaintance with some of the pious men of the regiment (the
    same poor men whom I have mentioned before, who used to meet in
    ravines, in huts, in woods, and in every wild and secret place
    they could find, to read, and pray, and sing); and he invited
    them to come to him in our house, Mr. Sherwood making no
    objection. The time first fixed was an evening after parade, and
    in consequence they all appeared at the appointed hour, each
    carrying their mora (a low seat), and their books tied up in
    pocket-handkerchiefs. In this very unmilitary fashion they were
    all met in a body by some officers. It was with some difficulty
    that Mr. Sherwood could divert the storm of displeasure which
    had well-nigh burst upon them on the occasion. Had they been all
    found intoxicated and fighting, they would have created less
    anger from those who loved not religion. How truly is it said
    that 'the children of this world are wiser in their generation
    than the children of light.' Notwithstanding this unfortunate
    _contretemps_, these poor good men were received by Mr. Martyn
    in his own apartment; and a most joyful meeting he had with
    them. We did not join the party, but we heard them singing and
    praying, and the sound was very sweet. Mr. Martyn then promised
    them that when he had got a house he would set aside a room for
    them, where they might come every evening, adding he would meet
    them himself twice in the week. When these assemblies were
    sanctioned by our ever kind Colonel Mawby, and all difficulties,
    in short, overcome, many who had been the most zealous under
    persecution fell quite away, and never returned. How can we
    account for these things? Many, however, remained steadfast
    under evil report as well as good report, and died, as they had
    lived, in simple and pure faith.

    I must not omit another anecdote of Mr. Martyn, which amused us
    much at the time, after we had recovered the alarm attending it.
    The salary of a chaplain is large, and Mr. Martyn had not drawn
    his for so long a time, that the sum amounted perhaps to some
    hundreds. He was to receive it from the collector at Cawnpore.
    Accordingly he one morning sent a note for the amount, confiding
    the note to the care of a common coolie, a porter of low caste,
    generally a very poor man. This man went off, unknown to Mr.
    Sherwood and myself, early in the morning. The day passed, the
    evening came, and no coolie arrived. At length Mr. Martyn said
    in a quiet voice to us, 'The coolie does not come with my money.
    I was thinking this morning how rich I should be; and, now, I
    should not wonder in the least if he has not run off, and taken
    my treasure with him.' 'What!' we exclaimed, 'surely you have
    not sent a common coolie for your pay?' 'I have,' he replied. Of
    course we could not expect that it would ever arrive safe; for
    it would be paid in silver, and delivered to the man in cotton
    bags. Soon afterwards, however, it did arrive--a circumstance at
    which we all greatly marvelled.

Cawnpore, of which Henry Martyn was chaplain for the next two years,
till disease drove him from it, was the worst station to which he
could have been sent. The district, consisting of clay uplands on the
Doab between the Ganges and the Jumna rivers, which unite below at
Allahabad, was at that time a comparatively desolate tract, swept by
the hot winds, and always the first to suffer from drought. The great
famine of 1837 afterwards so destroyed its unhappy peasantry and
labourers, that the British Government made its county town one of the
two terminals of the great Ganges canal, which the Marquis of
Dalhousie opened, and irrigated the district by four branches with
their distributing channels. Even then, and to this day, Cawnpore has
not ceased to be a repulsive station. Its leather factories and cotton
mills do not render it less so, nor the memory of the five massacres
of British officers, their wives and children, by the infamous Nana
Dhoondoo Panth, which still seems to cover it as with a pall,
notwithstanding the gardens and the marble screen inclosing the figure
of the Angel of the Resurrection with the palm of victory above the
Massacre Well. The people of the town at least have always been
disagreeable, from Hindu discontent and Mohammedan sulkiness. The
British cantonment used to be at Bilgram, on the opposite bank, in the
territory of Oudh. Well might Martyn write of such a station as
Cawnpore: 'I do not like this place at all,' although he then enjoyed
the social ministrations of the Sherwoods, and was constant in his own
service to the Master among British and natives alike, and at his desk
in translation work.

The first use which the chaplain made of his pay was this, according
to Mrs. Sherwood: 'Being persuaded by some black man, he bought one of
the most undesirable houses, to all appearance, which he could have
chosen.' But he had chosen wisely for his daily duties of translation
and preaching to the natives.

    Mr. Martyn's house was a bungalow situated between the Sepoy
    Parade and the Artillery Barracks, but behind that range of
    principal bungalows which face the Parade. The approach to the
    dwelling was called the Compound, along an avenue of palm trees
    and aloes. A more stiff, funereal avenue can hardly be imagined,
    unless it might be that one of noted sphynxes which I have read
    of as the approach to a ruined Egyptian temple. At the end of
    this avenue were two bungalows, connected by a long passage.
    These bungalows were low, and the rooms small. The garden was
    prettily laid out with flowering shrubs and tall trees; in the
    centre was a wide space, which at some seasons was green, and a
    _chabootra_, or raised platform of chunam (lime), of great
    extent, was placed in the middle of this space. A vast number
    and variety of huts and sheds formed one boundary of the
    compound; these were concealed by the shrubs. But who would
    venture to give any account of the heterogeneous population
    which occupied these buildings? For, besides the usual
    complement of servants found in and about the houses of persons
    of a certain rank in India, we must add to Mr. Martyn's
    household a multitude of pundits, moonshis, schoolmasters, and
    poor nominal Christians, who hung about him because there was no
    other to give them a handful of rice for their daily
    maintenance; and most strange was the murmur which proceeded at
    times from this ill-assorted and discordant multitude. Mr.
    Martyn occupied the largest of the two bungalows. He had given
    up the least to the wife of Sabat, that wild man of the desert
    whose extraordinary history has made so much noise in the
    Christian world.

    It was a burning evening in June, when after sunset I
    accompanied Mr. Sherwood to Mr. Martyn's bungalow, and saw for
    the first time its avenue of palms and aloes. We were conducted
    to the _chabootra_, where the company was already assembled;
    there was no lady but myself. This _chabootra_ was many feet
    square, and chairs were set for the guests. A more heterogeneous
    assembly surely had not often met, and seldom, I believe, were
    more languages in requisition in so small a party. Besides Mr.
    Martyn and ourselves, there was no one present who could speak
    English. But let me introduce each individual separately. Every
    feature in the large disk of Sabat's face was what we should
    call exaggerated. His eyebrows were arched, black, and strongly
    pencilled; his eyes dark and round, and from time to time
    flashing with unsubdued emotion, and ready to kindle into flame
    on the most trifling occasion. His nose was high, his mouth
    wide, his teeth large, and looked white in contrast with his
    bronzed complexion and fierce black mustachios. He was a large
    and powerful man, and generally wore a skull-cap of rich
    shawling, or embroidered silk, with circular flaps of the same
    hanging over each ear. His large, tawny throat and neck had no
    other covering than that afforded by his beard, which was black.
    His attire was a kind of jacket of silk, with long sleeves,
    fastened by a girelle, or girdle, about his loins, to which was
    appended a jewelled dirk. He wore loose trousers, and
    embroidered shoes turned up at the toes. In the cold season he
    threw over this a wrapper lined with fur, and when it was warmer
    the fur was changed for silk. When to this costume is added
    ear-rings, and sometimes a golden chain, the Arab stands before
    you in his complete state of Oriental dandyism. This son of the
    desert never sat in a chair without contriving to tuck up his
    legs under him on the seat, in attitude very like a tailor on
    his board. The only languages which he was able to speak were
    Persian, Arabic, and a very little bad Hindustani; but what was
    wanting in the words of this man was more than made up by the
    loudness with which he uttered them, for he had a voice like
    rolling thunder. When it is understood that loud utterance is
    considered as an ingredient of respect in the East, we cannot
    suppose that one who had been much in native courts should
    think it necessary to modulate his voice in the presence of the
    English Sahib-log.[33]

    The second of Mr. Martyn's guests, whom I must introduce as
    being not a whit behind Sabat in his own opinion of himself, was
    the Padre Julius Cæsar, an Italian monk of the order of the
    Jesuits, a worthy disciple of Ignatius Loyola. Mr. Martyn had
    become acquainted with him at Patna, where the Italian priest
    was not less zealous and active in making proselytes than the
    Company's chaplain, and probably much more wise and subtle in
    his movements than the latter. The Jesuit was a handsome young
    man, and dressed in the complete costume of the monk, with his
    little skull-cap, his flowing robes, and his cord. The
    materials, however, of his dress were very rich; his robe was of
    the finest purple satin, and his cord of twisted silk, and his
    rosary of costly stones, whilst his air and manner were
    extremely elegant. He spoke French fluently, and there Mr.
    Sherwood was at home with him, but his native language was
    Italian. His conversation with Mr. Martyn was carried on partly
    in Latin and partly in Italian. A third guest was a learned
    native of India, in his full and handsome Hindustani costume;
    and a fourth a little, thin, copper-coloured, half-caste
    Bengali gentleman, in white nankeen, who spoke only Bengali. Mr.
    Sherwood made a fifth, in his scarlet and gold uniform; myself,
    the only lady, was the sixth; and add our host, Mr. Martyn, in
    his clerical black silk coat, and there is our party. Most
    assuredly I never listened to such a confusion of tongues before
    or since. Such a noisy, perplexing Babel can scarcely be
    imagined. Everyone who had acquired his views of politeness in
    Eastern society was shouting at the top of his voice, as if he
    had lost his fellow in a wood; and no less than eight languages
    were in constant request, viz. English, French, Italian, Arabic,
    Persian, Hindustani, Bengali, and Latin.

    In order to lengthen out the pleasures of the evening, we were
    scarcely seated before good Mr. Martyn recollected that he had
    heard me say that I liked a certain sort of little mutton
    pattie, which the natives made particularly well; so, without
    thinking how long it might take to make these same patties, he
    called to a servant to give orders that mutton patties should be
    added to the supper. I heard the order, but never dreamed that
    perhaps the mutton might not be in the house. The consequence of
    this order was that we sat on the _chabootra_ till it was quite
    dark, and till I was utterly weary with the confusion. No one
    who has not been in or near the tropics can have an idea of the
    glorious appearance of the heavens in these regions, and the
    brilliancy of the star-lit nights, at Cawnpore. Mr. Martyn used
    often to show me the pole-star, just above the line of the
    horizon; and I have seen the moon, when almost new, looking like
    a ball of ebony in a silver cup. Who can, therefore, be
    surprised that the science of astronomy should first have been
    pursued by the shepherds who watched their flocks by night in
    the plains of the South? When the mutton patties were ready, I
    was handed by Mr. Martyn into the hall of the bungalow. Mr.
    Martyn took the top of the table, and Sabat perched himself on
    a chair at the bottom. I think it was on this day, when at
    table, Sabat was telling some of his own adventures to Mr.
    Martyn, in Persian, which the latter interpreted to Mr. Sherwood
    and myself, that the wild Arab asserted that there were in
    Tartary and Arabia many persons converted to Christianity, and
    that many had given up their lives for the faith. He professed
    to be himself acquainted with two of these, besides Abdallah.
    'One,' he said, 'was a relation of his own.' But he gave but
    small proof of this man's sincerity. This convert, if such he
    was, drew the attention of the priests by a total neglect of all
    forms; and this was the more remarkable on account of the
    multiplied forms of Islam; for at the wonted hour of prayer a
    true Mussulman must kneel down and pray in the middle of a
    street, or between the courses of a feast, nay, even at the
    moment when perhaps his hands might be reeking with a brother's
    blood. This relative of Sabat's, however, was, as he remarked,
    observed to neglect all forms, and he was called before the
    heads of his tribe, and required to say wherefore he was guilty
    of this offence. His answer was, 'It is nothing.' He proceeded
    to express himself as if he doubted the very existence of a God.
    The seniors of the tribe told him that it would be better for
    him to be a Christian than an atheist; adding, therefore, 'If
    you do not believe in our prophet you must be a Christian;' for
    they wisely accounted that no man but a fool could be without
    some religion. The man's reply was, that he thought the
    Christian's a better religion than that of Mahomet; the
    consequence of which declaration was that they stoned him until
    he died. The other example which Sabat gave us was of a boy in
    Baghdad, who was converted by an Armenian, and endeavoured to
    escape, but was pursued, seized, and offered pardon if he would
    recant; but he was preserved in steadfastness to the truth, and
    preferred death to returning to Mahometanism. His life was
    required of him.

    From the time Mr. Martyn left our house he was in the constant
    habit of supping with us two or three times a week, and he used
    to come on horseback, with the sais running by his side. He sat
    his horse as if he were not quite aware that he was on
    horseback, and he generally wore his coat as if it were falling
    from his shoulders. When he dismounted, his favourite place was
    in the verandah, with a book, till we came in from our airing.
    And when we returned many a sweet and long discourse we had,
    whilst waiting for our dinner or supper. Mr. Martyn often looked
    up to the starry heavens, and spoke of those glorious worlds of
    which we know so little now, but of which we hope to know so
    much hereafter. Often we turned from the contemplation of these
    to the consideration of the smallness, and apparent
    diminutiveness in creation, of our own little globe, and of the
    exceeding love of the Father, who so cared for its inhabitants
    that He sent His Son to redeem them.

    On the occasion of the baptism of my second Lucy, never can I
    forget the solemn manner with which Mr. Martyn went through the
    service, or the beautiful and earnest blessing he implored for
    my baby, when he took her into his arms after the service was
    concluded. I still fancy I see that child of God as he looked
    down tenderly on the gentle babe, and then looked upwards,
    asking of his God that grace and mercy for the infant which he
    truly accounted as the only gift which parents ought to desire.
    This babe, in infancy, had so peculiar a gentleness of aspect,
    that Mr. Martyn always called her Serena.

    Little was spoken of at Mr. Martyn's table but of various plans
    for advancing the triumphs of Christianity. Among the plans
    adopted, Mr. Martyn had, first at Dinapore and then at Cawnpore,
    established one or two schools for children of the natives of
    the lower caste. His plan was to hire a native schoolmaster,
    generally a Mussulman, to appoint him a place, and to pay him an
    anna (1-1/2_d._) a head for each boy whom he could induce to
    attend school. These boys the master was to teach to write and
    read. It was Mr. Martyn's great aim, and, indeed, the sole end
    of his exertions, to get Christian books into the school. As no
    mention was ever made of proselytism, there was never any
    difficulty found in introducing even portions of the Scripture
    itself, more especially portions of the Old Testament, to the
    attention of the children. The books of Moses are always very
    acceptable to a Mussulman, and Genesis is particularly
    interesting to the Hindus. Mr. Martyn's first school at Cawnpore
    was located in a long shed, which was on the side of the cavalry
    lines. It was the first school of the kind I ever saw. The
    master sat at one end, like a tailor, on the dusty floor; and
    along under the shed sat the scholars, a pack of little urchins,
    with no other clothes on than a skull-cap and a piece of cloth
    round the loins. These little ones squatted, like their master,
    in the sand. They had wooden imitations of slates in their
    hands, on which, having first written their lessons with chalk,
    they recited them, _à pleine gorge_, as the French would say,
    being sure to raise their voices on the approach of any European
    or native of note. Now, Cawnpore is about one of the most dusty
    places in the world. The Sepoy lines are the most dusty part of
    Cawnpore; and as the little urchins are always well greased,
    either with cocoanut oil or, in failure thereof, with rancid
    mustard oil, whenever there was the slightest breath of air they
    always looked as if they had been powdered all over with brown
    powder. But what did this signify? They would have been equally
    dusty in their own huts. In these schools they were in the way
    of getting a few ideas; at all events, they often got so far as
    to be able to copy a verse on their wooden slates. Afterwards
    they committed to memory what they had written. Who that has
    ever heard it can forget the sounds of the various notes with
    which these little people intonated their 'Aleph Zubbur
    ah--Zair a--Paiche oh,' as they waved backwards and forwards in
    their recitations? Or who can forget the vacant self-importance
    of the schoolmaster, who was generally a long-bearded, dry old
    man, who had no other means of proving his superiority over the
    scholars but making more noise than even they could do? Such a
    scene, indeed, could not be forgotten; but would it not require
    great faith to expect anything green to spring from a soil so
    dry? But this faith was not wanting to the Christians then in
    India.

Besides the 53rd Regiment, the Cavalry Corps called in those days the
8th Light Dragoons, and six companies of Artillery, were stationed at
Cawnpore. At the first parade service, on May 15, 1809, 'two officers
dropped down and some of the men. They wondered how I could go through
the fatigue,' wrote their new chaplain, not many days after his nearly
fatal palanquin journey from Chunar. His voice even reached the men at
the other end of the square which they had formed. Above a hundred men
were in hospital, a daily congregation. Every night about a dozen of
the soldiers met with him in the house. Not only the men but the
officers were privately rebuked by him for swearing. Of the General he
writes: 'He has never been very cordial, and now he is likely to be
less so; though it was done in the gentlest way, he did not seem to
like it. Were it not to become all things to all men in order to save
some, I should never trouble them with my company. But how then should
I be like Christ? I have been almost the whole morning engaged in a
good-humoured dispute with Mrs. P., who, in an instant after my
introduction to her, opened all her guns of wit and eloquence against
me for attempting to convert the Brahmans.' A little later he writes
of a dinner at the brigade-major's with the chief persons of the
station: 'I could gain no attention while saying grace; and the moment
the ladies withdrew the conversation took such a turn that I was
obliged to make a hasty retreat. Oh! the mercy to have escaped their
evil ways.'

The year was one of alarms of war, from which the history of our
Indian Empire can rarely be free, surrounded as it is by a ring-fence
of frontier tribes and often aggressive States. But in those days the
great internal conflicts for the consolidation of our power, and the
peace and prosperity of peoples exposed to anarchy for centuries, were
still being waged. Marathas, Sikhs, and Goorkhas had all to be
pacified in 1809. Now the infantry were being sent to the conquest of
Bundlekhund and difficult siege of the fortress of Kalinjar, as old as
the Mahabharat Epic in which it is mentioned. Now the artillery were
under orders to march to Lodiana to check Ranjeet Singh. Now the
cavalry were sent off to the, at first, fatal chase of the Goorkhas by
Gillespie. Thus it was that their ever-careful chaplain sought to
prepare them for the issue:

    _October 20._--Spoke to my men on preparation for the Lord's
    Supper, and endeavoured to prepare myself for the ordinance, by
    considering my former life of sin, and all my unfaithfulness
    since my call to the Gospel. My heart was, as usual, insensible
    for a long time, but at last a gracious God made me feel some
    compunction, and then my feelings were such as I would wish they
    always were. I resolved at the time that it should be my special
    labour every day to obtain, and hold fast, this humbling view of
    my own depravity.

    _October 22._ (Sunday.)--Preached at sunrise to the 53rd, on
    Acts xxviii. 29. At ten, about sixteen of the regiment, with Mr.
    and Mrs. Sherwood and Sabat, met in my bungalow, where, after a
    short discourse on 'Behold the Lamb of God,' we commemorated the
    death of the Lord. It was the happiest season I have yet had at
    the Lord's Table, though my peace and pleasure were not
    unalloyed; the rest of the day I felt weak in body, but calm in
    mind, and rather spiritual; at night I spoke to the men on Rev.
    xxii. 2; the number was double; afterwards had some conversation
    on eternal things, but had reason to groan at the
    hollow-heartedness and coldness with which I do my best works.

    _November 18._--At night I took leave of my beloved Church
    previous to their departure for Bundlekhund with their regiment.
    I spoke to them from Gen. xxviii: 'I will be with thee in all
    places whithersoever thou goest,' etc. The poor men were much
    affected; they gave me their wills and watches.

    _November 19._ (Sunday.)--Preached at sunrise to the dragoons,
    on John i. 17: 'The law was given by Moses.' At eleven at
    head-quarters, on Rom. iii. 19.

Nowhere are eucharistic seasons of communion so precious as in exile,
and especially in the isolation of a tropical station. Not unfrequently
in India, Christian people, far separated from any ordained minister,
and about to part from each other, are compelled, by loving obedience to
the Lord, to meet thus together. But what joy it must have been to have
been ministered to at such times by one of Henry Martyn's consecrated
saintliness! Mrs. Sherwood lingers over her description of that Cawnpore
service of October 22, 1809--the long inner verandah of the house, where
daily prayer was wont to be made, shut in by lofty doors of green
lattice-work; the table, with the white cloth and all things requisite,
at one end; hassocks on which to kneel, and a high form in front of the
table; all 'decent and in good order, according to the forms of the
Church of England.' Still there was no church building. His first parade
service in the hot winds brought on fever, so that he proposed to ask
for the billiard-room, 'which is better than the ball-room,' but in
vain. His next service was in the riding-school, but 'the effluvium was
such as would please only the knights of the turf. What must the
Mohammedans think of us? Well may they call us "dogs," when even in
Divine worship we choose to kennel ourselves in such places.' The
General delayed to forward to Government the proposal for a church.

Henry Martyn's missionary work among the natives became greatly
extended at Cawnpore, as his scrupulous conscience and delicate
scholarship allowed him to use in public the colloquial Hindustani,
and in conversation the more classical Persian. To Corrie he wrote,
five months after his arrival there:

    What will friends at home think of Martyn and Corrie? They went
    out full of zeal, but, behold! what are they doing? Where are
    their converts? They talked of the banyan-tree before they went
    out; but now they seem to prefer a snug bungalow to
    field-preaching. I fear I should look a little silly if I were
    to go home just at this time; but more because I should not be
    able to make them understand the state of things than because my
    conscience condemns me. Brother, what can you do? If you
    itinerate like a European, you will only frighten the people; if
    as a native, you will be dead in one year. Yet the latter mode
    pleases me, and nothing would give me greater pleasure than so
    to live, with the prospect of being able to hold out a few
    years.

Again, to an old Cambridge friend:

    _November, 1809._--Respecting my heart, about which you ask, I
    must acknowledge that H. Martyn's heart at Dinapore is the same
    as H. Martyn's heart at Cambridge. The tenor of my prayer is
    nearly the same, except on one subject, the conversion of the
    heathen. At a distance from the scene of action, and trusting
    too much to the highly-coloured description of missionaries, my
    heart used to expand with rapture at the hope of seeing
    thousands of the natives melting under the Word as soon as it
    should be preached to them. Here I am called to exercise
    faith--that so it shall one day be. My former feelings on this
    subject were more agreeable, and at the same time more according
    with the truth; for if we believe the prophets, the scenes that
    time shall unfold, 'though surpassing fable, are yet true.'
    While I write, hope and joy spring up in my mind. Yes, it shall
    be; yonder stream of Ganges shall one day roll through tracts
    adorned with Christian churches, and cultivated by Christian
    husbandmen, and the holy hymn be heard beneath the shade of the
    tamarind. All things are working together to bring on the day,
    and my part in the blessed plan, though not at first exactly
    consonant to my wishes, is, I believe, appointed me by God. To
    translate the Word of God is a work of more lasting benefit than
    my preaching would be. But, besides that, I am sorry to say that
    my strength for public preaching is almost gone. My
    ministrations among the Europeans at this station have injured
    my lungs, and I am now obliged to lie by except on the Sabbath
    days, and once or twice in the week.... However, I am
    sufficiently aware of my important relations to the natives, and
    am determined not to strain myself any more for the Europeans.
    This rainy season has tried my constitution severely. The first
    attack was with spasms, under which I fainted. The second was a
    fever, from which a change of air, under God, recovered me.
    There is something in the air at the close of the rains so
    unfavourable, that public speaking at that time is a violent
    strain upon the whole body. Corrie passed down a few weeks ago
    to receive his sister. We enjoyed much refreshing communion in
    prayer and conversation on our dear friends at and near
    Cambridge, and found peculiar pleasure in the minutest
    circumstances we could recollect about you all.

At Cawnpore, in front of his house, he began his wonderful preaching
to the native beggars and ascetics of all kinds, Hindoo _jogees_ and
Mohammedan _fakeers_, the blind and the deaf, the maimed and the halt,
the diseased and the dying, the impostor and the truly needy. These
classes had soon found out the sympathetic padre-sahib, and to secure
peace he seems to have organised a weekly dole of an anna each or of
rice.

He wrote to Corrie:

    I feel unhappy, not because I do nothing, but because I am not
    willing to do my duty. The flesh must be mortified, and I am
    reluctant to take up the cross. Sabat said to me yesterday,
    'Your beggars are come: why do not you preach to them? It is
    your duty.' I made excuses; but why do not I preach to them? My
    carnal spirit says that I have been preaching a long time
    without success to my servants, who are used to my tongue; what
    can I expect from them--the very dregs of the people? But the
    true cause is shame: I am afraid of exposing myself to the
    contempt of Sabat, my servants, and the mob, by attempting to
    speak in a language which I do not speak well. To-day in prayer,
    one consideration has been made of some power in overcoming this
    shameful backwardness:--these people, if I neglect to speak to
    them, will give me a look at the last day which may fill me with
    horror. Alas! brother, where is my zeal?

    _December 17._ (Sunday.)--Preached to H.M. Light Dragoons on
    Rev. iii. 20: 'Behold, I stand at the door and knock,' etc.
    There was great attention. In the afternoon the beggars came, to
    the number of above four hundred, and, by the help of God, I
    determined to preach to them, though I felt as if I were leading
    to execution. I stood upon the _chabootra_ in front of which
    they were collected.

To Corrie he thus described his talks with his 'congregation of the
poor':

    I went without fear, trusting to myself, and not to the Lord,
    and accordingly I was put to shame--that is, I did not read half
    as well as the preceding days. I shuffled and stammered, and
    indeed I am persuaded that there were many sentences the poor
    things did not understand at all. I spoke of the dry land,
    rivers, etc.; here I mentioned Gunga,'a good river,' but there
    were others as good. God loves Hindus, but does He not love
    others also? He gave them a good river, but to others as good.
    All are alike before God. This was received with applause. On
    the work of the fourth day, 'Thus sun and moon are lamps. Shall
    I worship a candle in my hand? As a candle in the house, so is
    the sun in the sky.' Applause from the Mohammedans. There were
    also hisses, but whether these betokened displeasure against me
    or the worship of the sun I do not know. I then charged them to
    worship Gunga and sun and moon no more, but the honour they used
    to give to them, henceforward to give to God their Maker. Who
    knows but even this was a blow struck, at least a branch lopped
    from the tree of heathenism? The number was about 550. You need
    not be deterred, dear brother, if this simple way of teaching do
    any good.

Again:

    I spoke on the corruption of human nature, 'The Lord saw that
    every imagination,' etc. In the application I said, 'Hence all
    outward works are useless while the heart remains in this state.
    You may wash in Gunga, but the heart is not washed.' Some old
    men shook their heads, in much the same way as we do when
    seriously affected with any truth. The number was about seven
    hundred. The servants told me it was nonsense to give them all
    rice, as they were not all poor; hundreds of them are working
    people; among them was a whole row of Brahmins. I spoke to them
    about the Flood; this was interesting, as they were very
    attentive, and at the end said, 'Shabash wa wa' (Well said).

Mrs. Sherwood pictures the scene after an almost pathetic fashion:

    We went often on the Sunday evenings to hear the addresses of
    Mr. Martyn to the assembly of mendicants, and we generally stood
    behind him. On these occasions we had to make our way through a
    dense crowd, with a temperature often rising above 92°, whilst
    the sun poured its burning rays upon us through a lurid haze of
    dust. Frightful were the objects which usually met our eyes in
    this crowd: so many monstrous and diseased limbs, and hideous
    faces, were displayed before us, and pushed forward for our
    inspection, that I have often made my way to the _chabootra_
    with my eyes shut, whilst Mr. Sherwood led me. On reaching the
    platform I was surrounded by our own people, and yet even there
    I scarcely dared to look about me. I still imagine that I hear
    the calm, distinct, and musical tones of Henry Martyn, as he
    stood raised above the people, endeavouring, by showing the
    purity of the Divine law, to convince the unbelievers that by
    their works they were all condemned; and that this was the case
    of every man of the offspring of Adam, and they therefore needed
    a Saviour who was both willing and able to redeem them. From
    time to time low murmurs and curses would arise in the distance,
    and then roll forward, till they became so loud as to drown the
    voice of this pious one, generally concluding with hissings and
    fierce cries. But when the storm passed away, again might he be
    heard going on where he had left off, in the same calm,
    steadfast tone, as if he were incapable of irritation from the
    interruption. Mr. Martyn himself assisted in giving each person
    his _pice_ (copper) after the address was concluded; and when he
    withdrew to his bungalow I have seen him drop, almost fainting,
    on a sofa, for he had, as he often said, even at that time, a
    slow inflammation burning in his chest, and one which he knew
    must eventually terminate his existence. In consequence of this
    he was usually in much pain after any exertion of speaking.

    No dreams nor visions excited in the delirium of a raging fever
    can surpass these realities. These devotees vary in age and
    appearance: they are young and old, male and female, bloated and
    wizened, tall and short, athletic and feeble; some clothed with
    abominable rags; some nearly without clothes; some plastered
    with mud and cow-dung; others with matted, uncombed locks
    streaming down to their heels; others with heads bald or scabby,
    every countenance being hard and fixed, as it were, by the
    continual indulgence of bad passions, the features having become
    exaggerated, and the lips blackened with tobacco, or blood-red
    with the juice of the henna. But these and such as these form
    only the general mass of the people; there are among them still
    more distinguished monsters. One little man generally comes in a
    small cart drawn by a bullock; his body and limbs are so
    shrivelled as to give, with his black skin and large head, the
    appearance of a gigantic frog. Another has his arm fixed above
    his head, the nail of the thumb piercing through the palm of the
    hand; another, and a very large man, has his ribs and the bones
    of his face externally traced with white chalk, which, striking
    the eye in relief above the dark skin, makes him appear, as he
    approaches, like a moving skeleton. When Mr. Martyn collected
    these people he was most carefully watched by the British
    authorities.

Shall anyone say that the missionary chaplain's eighteen months' work
among this mixed multitude of the poor and the dishonest was as vain
as he himself, in his humility, feared that it was? 'Greater works'
than His own were what the Lord of Glory, who did like service to man
in the Syria of that day, promised to His believing followers.

On the wall which enclosed his compound was a kiosk, from which some
young Mussulman idlers used to look down on the preacher, as they
smoked their hookahs and sipped their sherbet. One Sunday, determined
to hear as well as see, that they might the more evidently scoff, they
made their way through the crowd, and with the deepest scorn took
their place in the very front. They listened in a critical temper,
made remarks on what they heard, and returned to the kiosk. But there
was one who no longer joined in their jeering. Sheikh Saleh, born at
Delhi, Persian and Arabic moonshi of Lucknow, then keeper of the King
of Oudh's jewels, was a Mussulman so zealous that he had persuaded his
Hindu servant to be circumcised. But he was afterwards horrified by
the treachery and the atrocities of his co-religionists in the Rajpoot
State of Joudhpore, whither he had gone. He was on his way back to his
father at Lucknow when, on a heart thus prepared, there fell the
teaching of the English man of God as to the purity of the Divine law
and salvation from sin by Jesus Christ.

Eager to learn more of Christianity from its authoritative records, he
sought employment on the translating staff of the preacher, through a
friend who knew Sabat. He was engaged to copy Persian manuscripts by
that not too scrupulous tyrant, without the knowledge of Martyn or any
of the English. On receiving the completed Persian New Testament, to
have it bound, he read it all, and his conversion by the Spirit of
God, its Author, was complete. He determined to attach himself to
Martyn, who as yet knew him not personally. He followed him to
Calcutta, and applied to him for baptism. After due trial during the
next year he was admitted to the Church under the new name of 'Bondman
of Christ,' Abdool Massee'h. This was almost the last act of the Rev.
David Brown, who since 1775 had spent his life in diffusing Christian
knowledge in Bengal. Abdool's conversion caused great excitement in
Lucknow. Nor was this all. The new convert was sent to Meerut, when
Mr. Parson was chaplain in that great military station, and there he
won over the chief physician of the Rajah of Bhurtpore, naming him
Taleb Massee'h. After preaching and disputing in Meerut, Abdool
visited the Begum Sumroo's principality of Sardhana, where he left
Taleb to care for the native Christians. They and the Sherwoods
together were the means of calling and preparing several native
converts for baptism, all the fruit, direct and indirect, of Henry
Martyn's combined translating and preaching of the New Testament at
Cawnpore.

Mrs. Sherwood writes:

    We were told that Mr. Corrie might perhaps be unable to come as
    far as Delhi, and the candidates for baptism became so anxious
    that they set off to meet him on the Delhi road. We soon heard
    of their meeting from Mr. Corrie himself, and that he was
    pleased with them. Shortly afterwards our beloved friend
    appeared, with tents, camels, and elephants, and we had the
    pleasure of having his largest tent pitched in our compound, for
    we had not room for all his suite within the house. Then for the
    next week our house and grounds brought to my mind what I had
    often fancied of a scene in some high festival in Jerusalem;
    but ours was an assembly under a fairer, brighter dispensation.
    'Here we are,' said Mr. Corrie, 'poor weary pilgrims;' and he
    applied the names of 'Christian' and 'Mercy' to his wife and an
    orphan girl who was with them. Dear Mr. Corrie! perhaps there
    never was a man so universally beloved as he was. Wherever he
    was known, from the lisping babe who climbed upon his knee to
    the hoary-headed native, he was regarded as a bright example of
    Christian charity and humility. On Sunday, January 31, the
    baptism of all the converts but one took place. Numbers of
    Europeans from different quarters of the station attended. The
    little chapel was crowded to overflowing, and most affecting
    indeed was the sight. Few persons could restrain their tears
    when Mr. Corrie extended his hand to raise the silver curls
    which clustered upon the brow of Monghul Das, one of the most
    sincere of the converts. The ceremony was very affecting, and
    the convert, who stood by and saw the others baptized, became so
    uneasy that, when Mr. Corrie set off to return, he followed him.
    For family reasons this man's baptism had been deferred, as he
    hoped by so doing to bring others of his family into the Church
    of God.

    How delightfully passed that Sunday!--how sweet was our private
    intercourse with Mr. Corrie! He brought our children many
    Hindustani hymns, set to ancient Oriental melodies, which they
    were to sing at the Hindu services, and we all together sang a
    hymn, which I find in my Journal designated by this title:

        'WE HAVE SEEN HIS STAR IN THE EAST'

        In Britain's land of light my mind
        To Jesus and His love was blind,
        Till, wandering midst the heathen far,
        Lo in the East I saw His star.
        Oh, should my steps, which distant roam,
        Attain once more my native shore,
        Better than India's wealth by far,
        I'll speak the worth of Bethlehem's star.

    There is little merit in the composition of this hymn; but it
    had a peculiar interest for us at that time, and the sentiment
    which it professes must ever retain its interest.

Long after this the good seed of the Kingdom, as sown by Henry Martyn,
continued to bear fruit, which in its turn propagated itself. In 1816
there came to Corrie in Calcutta, for further instruction, from
Bareilly, a young Mohammedan ascetic and teacher who, at seventeen,
had abandoned Hinduism, seeking peace of mind. He fell in with
Martyn's Hindustani New Testament, and was baptized under the new name
of Fuez Massee'h. Under somewhat similar circumstances Noor Massee'h
was baptized at Agra. The missionary labours of Martyn at Cawnpore,
followed up by Corrie there and at Agra soon after, farther resulted
in the baptism there of seventy-one Hindus and Mohammedans, of whom
fifty were adults. All of these, save seven, remained steadfast, and
many became missionaries in their turn. The career of Abdool Massee'h
closed in 1827, after he had been ordained in the Calcutta cathedral
by Bishop Heber, who loved him. His last breath was spent in singing
the Persian hymn, translated thus:

    Beloved Saviour, let not me
    In Thy kind heart forgotten be!
    Of all that deck the field or bower,
    Thou art the sweetest, fairest flower!

    Youth's morn has fled, old age comes on.
    But sin distracts my soul alone;
    Beloved Saviour, let not me
    In Thy kind heart forgotten be.

As from Dinapore Martyn sought out the moulvies of Patna, so from
Cawnpore he found his way to Lucknow There, after he had baptized a
child of the Governor-General's Resident, he met the Nawab Saadut Ali,
and his eyes for the first time beheld one who had full power of life
and death over his subjects. He visited the moulvies, at the tomb of
Asaf-ood-Dowla, who were employed to read the Koran constantly. 'With
them I tried my strength, of course, and disputed for an hour; it
ended in their referring me for an answer to another.'

Toil such as Martyn's, physical and mental, in successive hot seasons,
in such hospitals and barracks as then killed off the British troops
and their families, and without a decent church building, would have
sacrificed the healthiest in a few years. Corrie had to flee from it,
or he would never have lived to be the first and model Bishop of
Madras. But such labours, such incessant straining of the voice
through throat and lungs, acting on his highly neurotic constitution,
and the phthisical frame which he inherited from his mother, became
possible to Henry Martyn only because he willed, he agonised, to live
till he should give at least the New Testament to the peoples of
Arabia and Persia, and to the Mohammedans of India, in their own
tongues. We see him in his _Journal_, before God, spiritually spurring
the sides of his intent day by day, and running like the noble Arab
horse till it drops--its object gained. He had many warnings, and if
he had had a wife to see that he obeyed the voice of Providence he
might have outlived his hereditary tendency in such a tropical climate
as that of India--a fact since proved by experience. He had narrowly
escaped death at Dinapore a few months before, and he knew it. But it
is well that, far more frequently than the world knows, such cases
occur in the missionary fields of the world. The Brainerds and the
Martyns, the Pattesons and the Hanningtons, the Keith-Falconers and
the Mackays--to mention some of the dead only--have their reward in
calling hundreds to fill their places, not less than the Careys and
the Livingstones, the Duffs and the Wilsons, the Frenches and the
Caldwells. To all who know the tropics, and especially the seasons of
India, the dates that follow are eloquent.

    _1809, May 29._--The East has been long forsaken of God, and
    depravity in consequence more thoroughly wrought into them. I
    have been very ill all this week, the disorder appearing in the
    form of an intermittent. In the night cold sweats, and for about
    five hours in the day head-ache and vertigo. Last night I took
    some medicine, and think that I am better, though the time when
    the fever has generally come on is not yet arrived. But I hardly
    know how to be thankful enough for this interval of ease.

    _September 25._--Set out at three in the morning for Currah, and
    reached it on the 26th in the morning, and married a Miss K. to
    Mr. R.; the company was very unpleasant, so after passing the
    night there, I set out and travelled all day and night, and
    through Divine mercy arrived at home again on the 28th, but
    excessively fatigued, indeed almost exhausted. At night with the
    men, my whole desire was to lie low in the dust. 'Thou hast left
    thy first love,' on which I spoke, was an awful call to me, and
    I trust in God I shall ever feel it so.

    _November 19._--Received a letter from Mr. Simeon, mentioning
    Sarah's illness; consumption has seized her, as it did my mother
    and sister, and will carry her off as it did them, and now I am
    the only one left. Oh, my dear Corrie, though I know you are
    well prepared, how does nature bleed at the thought of a beloved
    sister's drooping and dying! Yet still to see those whom I love
    go before me, without so much as a doubt of their going to
    glory, will, I hope, soothe my sorrow. How soon shall I follow?
    I know it must be soon. The paleness and fatigue I exhibit after
    every season of preaching show plainly that death is settled in
    my lungs.

    _1810, April 9._--From the labours of yesterday, added to
    constant conversation and disagreement with visitors to-day, I
    was quite exhausted, and my chest in pain.

    _April 10._--My lungs still so disordered that I could not meet
    my men at night.

    _April 15._ (Sunday.)--Preached to the Dragoons on the parable
    of the pounds. At the General's on Luke xxii 22. With the native
    congregation I strained myself greatly in order to be heard, and
    to this I attribute the injury I did myself to-day. Attempted
    the usual service with my men at night, but after speaking to
    them from a passage in Scripture, was obliged to leave them
    before prayer.

    _April 16._--Imprudently joined in conversation with some dear
    Christian friends to-night, and talked a great deal; the pain in
    the chest in consequence returned.

    _May 12._--This evening thrown with great violence from my
    horse: while he was in full gallop, the saddle came off, but I
    received no other injury but contusion. Thus a gracious
    Providence preserves me in life. But for His kindness I had been
    now dragging out a wretched existence in pain, and my blessed
    work interrupted for years perhaps.

Henry Martyn was too absorbed in the higher life at all times to be
trusted in riding or driving. Mrs. Sherwood writes:

    I often went out with him in his gig, when he used to call
    either for me or Miss Corrie, and whoever went with him went at
    the peril of their lives. He never looked where he was driving,
    but went dashing through thick and thin, being always occupied
    in reading Hindustani by word of mouth, or discussing some text
    of Scripture. I certainly never expected to have survived a
    lesson he gave me in his gig, in the midst of the plain at
    Cawnpore, on the pronunciation of one of the Persian letters.

All through his Cawnpore life, also, the wail of disappointed love
breaks from time to time. On Christmas day, 1809, he received, through
David Brown as usual, a letter 'from Lydia, containing a second
refusal; so now I have done.' On March 23, 1810, Mr. Steven's letter
reached him, reporting the death of his last sister. 'She was my dear
counsellor and guide for a long time in the Christian way. I have not
a relation left to whom I feel bound by ties of Christian fellowship,
and I am resolved to form no new connection of a worldly nature, so
that I may henceforward hope to live entirely, as a man of another
world.' Meanwhile he has received Lydia Grenfell's sisterly offer, to
which he thus replies in the first of eleven letters, to one who had
sunk the lover in the Christian friend, as was possible to two hearts
so far separated and never to meet again in this world. But she was
still his 'dearest.'

                          TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                           Cawnpore: March 30, 1810.

    Since you kindly bid me, my beloved friend, consider you in the
    place of that dear sister whom it has pleased God in His wisdom
    to take from me, I gratefully accept the offer of a
    correspondence, which it has ever been the anxious wish of my
    heart to establish. Your kindness is the more acceptable,
    because it is shown in the day of affliction. Though I had heard
    of my dearest sister's illness some months before I received the
    account of her death, and though the nature of her disorder was
    such as left me not a ray of hope, so that I was mercifully
    prepared for the event, still the certainty of it fills me with
    anguish. It is not that she has left me, for I never expected
    to see her more on earth. I have no doubt of meeting her in
    heaven, but I cannot bear to think of the pangs of dissolution
    she underwent, which have been unfortunately detailed to me with
    too much particularity. Would that I had never heard them, or
    could efface them from my remembrance. But oh, may I learn what
    the Lord is teaching me by these repeated strokes! May I learn
    meekness and resignation. May the world always appear as vain as
    it does now, and my own continuance in it as short and
    uncertain. How frightful is the desolation which Death makes,
    and how appalling his visits when he enters one's family. I
    would rather never have been born than be born and die, were it
    not for Jesus, the Prince of life, the Resurrection and the
    Life. How inexpressibly precious is this Saviour when eternity
    seems near! I hope often to communicate with you on these
    subjects, and in return for your kind and consolatory letters to
    send you, from time to time, accounts of myself and my
    proceedings. Through you I can hear of all my friends in the
    West. When I first heard of the loss I was likely to suffer, and
    began to reflect on my own friendless situation, you were much
    in my thoughts, whether you would be silent on this occasion or
    no? whether you would persist in your resolution? Friends indeed
    I have, and brethren, blessed be God! but two brothers[34]
    cannot supply the place of one sister. When month after month
    passed away, and no letter came from you, I almost abandoned the
    hope of ever hearing from you again. It only remained to wait
    the result of my last application through Emma. You have kindly
    anticipated my request, and, I need scarcely add, are more
    endeared to me than ever.

    Of your illness, my dearest Lydia, I had heard nothing, and it
    was well for me that I did not.--Yours most affectionately,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

To David Brown he wrote, 'My long-lost Lydia consents to write to me
again;' and in three weeks he thus addresses to Lydia herself again a
letter of exquisite tenderness:

                          TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                           Cawnpore: April 19, 1810.

    I begin my correspondence with my beloved Lydia, not without a
    fear of its being soon to end. Shall I venture to tell you that
    our family complaint has again made its appearance in me, with
    more unpleasant symptoms than it has ever yet done? However,
    God, who two years ago redeemed my life from destruction, may
    again, for His Church's sake, interpose for my deliverance.
    Though, alas! what am I that my place should not instantly be
    supplied with far more efficient instruments? The symptoms I
    mentioned are chiefly a pain in the chest, occasioned, I
    suppose, by over-exertion the two last Sundays, and
    incapacitating me at present from all public duty, and even from
    conversation. You were mistaken in supposing that my former
    illness originated from study. Study never makes me
    ill--scarcely ever fatigues me--but my lungs! death is seated
    there; it is speaking that kills me. May it give others life!
    'Death worketh in us, but life in you.' Nature intended me, as I
    should judge from the structure of my frame, for
    chamber-council, not for a pleader at the Bar. But the call of
    Jesus Christ bids me cry aloud and spare not. As His minister, I
    am a debtor both to the Greek and the barbarian. How can I be
    silent when I have both ever before me, and my debt not paid?
    You would suggest that energies more restrained will eventually
    be more efficient. I am aware of this, and mean to act upon this
    principle in future, if the resolution is not formed too late.
    But you know how apt we are to outstep the bounds of prudence
    when there is no kind of monitor at hand to warn us of the
    consequences.

    Had I been favoured with the one I wanted, I might not now have
    had occasion to mourn. You smile at my allusion, at least I hope
    so, for I am hardly in earnest. I have long since ceased to
    repine at the decree that keeps us as far asunder as the east is
    from the west, and yet am far from regretting that I ever knew
    you. The remembrance of you calls forth the exercise of
    delightful affections, and has kept me from many a snare. How
    wise and good is our God in all His dealings with His children!
    Had I yielded to the suggestions of flesh and blood, and
    remained in England, as I should have done, without the
    effectual working of His power, I should without doubt have sunk
    with my sisters into an early grave. Whereas here, to say the
    least, I may live a few years, so as to accomplish a very
    important work. His keeping you from me appears also, at this
    season of bodily infirmity, to be occasion of thankfulness.
    Death, I think, would be a less welcome visitor to me, if he
    came to take me from a wife, and that wife were you. Now, if I
    die, I die unnoticed, involving none in calamity. Oh, that I
    could trust Him for all that is to come, and love Him with that
    perfect love which casteth out fear; for, to say the truth, my
    confidence is sometimes shaken. To appear before the Judge of
    quick and dead is a much more awful thought in sickness than in
    health. Yet I dare not doubt the all-sufficiency of Jesus
    Christ, nor can I, with the utmost ingenuity of unbelief, resist
    the reasonings of St. Paul, all whose reasons seem to be drawn
    up on purpose to work into the mind the persuasion that God will
    glorify Himself by the salvation of sinners through Jesus
    Christ. I wish I could more enter into the meaning of this
    'chosen vessel.' He seems to move in a world by himself, and
    sometimes to utter the unspeakable words such as my natural
    understanding discerneth not; and when I turn to commentators I
    find that I have passed out of the spiritual to the material
    world, and have got amongst men like myself. But soon, as he
    says, we shall no longer see as in a glass, by reflected rays,
    but see as we are seen, and know as we are known.

    _April 25._--After another interval I resume my pen. Through the
    mercy of God I am again quite well, but my mind is a good deal
    distressed at Sabat's conduct. I forbear writing what I think,
    in the hope that my fears may prove groundless; but indeed the
    children of the East are adepts in deceit. Their duplicity
    appears to me so disgusting at this moment, that I can only find
    relief from my growing misanthropy by remembering Him who is the
    faithful and true Witness; in whom all the promises of God are
    'yea and amen'; and by turning to the faithful in
    Europe--children that will not lie. Where shall we find
    sincerity in a native of the East? Yesterday I dined in a
    private way with ----. After one year's inspection of me they
    begin to lose their dread and venture to invite me. Our
    conversation was occasionally religious, but topics of this
    nature are so new to fashionable people, and those upon which
    they have thought so much less than on any other, that often
    from the shame of having nothing to say they pass to other
    subjects where they can be more at home. I was asked after
    dinner if I liked music. On my professing to be an admirer of
    harmony, cantos were performed and songs sung. After a time I
    inquired if they had no sacred music. It was now recollected
    that they had some of Handel's, but it could not be found. A
    promise, however, was made that next time I came it should be
    produced. Instead of it the 145th Psalm-tune was played, but
    none of the ladies could recollect enough of the tune to sing
    it. I observed that all our talents and powers should be
    consecrated to the service of Him who gave them. To this no
    reply was made, but the reproof was felt. I asked the lady of
    the house if she read poetry, and then proceeded to mention
    Cowper, whose poems, it seems, were in the library; but the lady
    had never heard of the book. This was produced, and I read some
    passages. Poor people! here a little and there a little is a
    rule to be observed in speaking to them.

    _April 26._--From speaking to my men last night, and again
    to-day conversing long with some natives, my chest is again in
    pain, so much so that I can hardly speak. Well, now I am taught,
    and will take more care in future. My sheet being full, I must
    bid you adieu. The Lord ever bless and keep you. Believe me to
    be with the truest affection,--Yours ever,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

                TO REV. T.M. HITCHINS, PLYMOUTH DOCK

                                         Cawnpore: October 10, 1809.

    My dearest Brother,--I am again disappointed in receiving no
    letter from you. The last intelligence from the West of England
    is Lydia's letter of July 8, 1808. Colonel Sandys has long since
    ceased to write to me, and I have no other correspondent. It is
    very affecting to me to be thus considered as dead by almost all
    my natural relations and early connections; and at this time,
    when I am led to think of you and the family to which you are
    united, and have been reading all your letters over, I feel that
    I could dip my pen deep in melancholy; for, strange as it may
    seem to you, I love so true, that though it is now the fifth
    year since I parted from the object of my affection, she is as
    dear to me as ever; yet, on the other hand, I find my present
    freedom such a privilege that I would not lose it for hardly any
    consideration. It is the impossibility of compassing every wish,
    that I suppose is the cause of any uneasiness that I feel. I
    know not how to express my thoughts respecting Lydia better than
    in Martial's words--_Nec tecum possum vivere nec sine te_.
    However, these are not my general sentiments; it pleases God to
    cause me to eat my meat with gladness, praising God. Almost
    always I am without carefulness, as indeed it would be to my
    shame if I were not.

    My kindest remembrances attend my dearest sisters, Emma and
    Lydia, as they well know. You two are such bad correspondents
    that on this ground I prefer another petition for the renewal of
    Lydia's correspondence,--she need not suspect anything now, nor
    her friends. I have no idea that I should trouble her upon the
    old subject, even if I were settled in England--for oh, this
    vain world! _quid habet commodi? quid non potius laboris?_

    But I never expect to see England more, nor do I expect that
    though all obstacles should be removed, she would ever become
    mine unless I came for her, and I now do not wonder at it,
    though I did before. If any one of my sisters had had such a
    proposal made to them, I would never have consented to their
    going, so you may see the affair is ended between us. My wish is
    that she would be scribe for you all, and I promise on my part
    to send you through her an ample detail _of all my_ proceedings;
    also she need not imagine that I may form another attachment--in
    which case she might suppose a correspondence with an unmarried
    lady might be productive of difficulties,--for after one
    disappointment I am not likely to try my chance again, and if I
    do I will give her the earliest intelligence of it, with the
    same frankness with which I have always dealt (with her).

Meanwhile, on the silent shores of South Cornwall, Lydia Grenfell was
thus remembering him before God:

    _1809, March 30._--My dear friend in India much upon my heart
    lately, chiefly in desires that the work of God may prosper in
    his hands, and that he may become more and more devoted to the
    Lord. I seem, as to the future, to have attained what a year or
    two since I prayed much for--to regard him absent as in another
    state of existence, and my affection is holy, pure, and
    spiritual for this dear saint of God; when it is otherwise, it
    is owing to my looking back. Recollections sometimes intrude,
    and I welcome them, alas, and act over again the past--but
    Lord, Thy holy, blessed will be done--cheerfully, thankfully I
    say this.

    _Tregembo, July 11._--I have suffered from levity of spirit, and
    lost thereby the enjoyment of God. How good then is it in the
    Lord to employ means in His providence to recall His wanderer to
    Himself and happiness! Such mercy belongeth unto God--and this
    His care over me I will record as a testimony against myself, if
    I forsake Him again and lose that sweet seriousness of mind, so
    essential to my peace and safety. Though I have never (perhaps
    for many hours in a day) ceased to remember my dear friend in
    India, it has not of late been in a way but as I might love and
    think of him in heaven. Why is it then that the intelligence of
    his probable nearness to that blessed abode should distress me?
    yet it did, and does so still. It is this intelligence which
    has, I hope, taught that my late excessive cheerfulness was
    dangerous to my soul, in weakening my hold of better and calmer
    joys. I was directed, I think, to the thirty-sixth Psalm for
    what I wanted on this occasion, as I was once before to the
    sixty-first, and I have found it most wonderfully cheering to my
    heart. The Lord, as 'the preserver of man and beast,' caused me
    to exercise dependence on Him respecting the result of my
    friend's illness. Then the description of the Divine perfections
    drew back my wandering heart, I hope to God. The declaration of
    those who trust in God being abundantly satisfied with the
    fatness of His house, taught me where real enjoyment alone will
    be found; but the concluding part opened in a peculiarly sweet
    way to my mind: 'Thou shalt make them drink of the river of Thy
    pleasures.'

    _October 23._--I am under some painful forebodings respecting my
    dear absent friend, and know not how to act. I am strongly
    impelled to write to him, now that he is in affliction and
    perhaps sickness himself--yet I dread departing from the plain
    path of duty. 'O Lord, direct me,' is my cry. I hope my desire
    is to do Thy will, and only Thy will. I have given him up to
    Thee--oh, let me do so sincerely, and trust in Thy fatherly
    care.

    _1810, January 1._--Felt the necessity of beginning this year
    with prayer for preserving grace. Prayed with some sense of my
    own weakness and dependence on God--with a conviction of much
    sin and hope in His mercy through Jesus Christ. Oh, to be Thine,
    Lord, in heart and life this year! Had a remembrance of those
    most dear to me in prayer, and found it very sweet to commend
    them to God, especially my friend in India--perhaps not now in
    India, but in heaven. Oh, to join him at last in Thy blissful
    presence!

    _January 24._--Heard yesterday of the marriage of Mr. John--what
    a mercy to me do I feel it!--a load gone off my mind, for every
    evil I heard of his committing I feared I might have been the
    cause of, by my conduct ten years since--I rejoice in this event
    for his sake and my own.

    _February 6._--Heard at last of the safety of my friend in
    India, and wrote to him--many fears on my mind as to its
    propriety, and great deadness of soul in doing it--yet ere I
    concluded I felt comforted from the thought of the nearness of
    eternity, and the certainty that then, without any fear of doing
    wrong, I should again enjoy communion with him.

    _February 24._--Many sad presages of evil concerning my absent
    friend, yet I am enabled to leave all to God--only now I pray,
    if consistent with His will, his life may be spared, and as a
    means of it, that God may incline him to return again to this
    land. I never did before dare to ask this, believing the cause
    of God would be more advanced by his remaining in India; but now
    I pray, without fear of doing wrong or opposing the will of God,
    for his return.

    _March 5._--I am sensible of a very remarkable change in the
    desires of my soul before God, respecting my absent friend. I
    with freedom and peace now pray continually that he may be
    restored to his friends and country; before, I never dared to
    ask anything but that the Lord would order this as His wisdom
    saw fit, and thought it not a subject for prayer. His injured
    health causes me to believe that India is not the place for his
    labours--and, oh, that his mind may be rightly influenced and
    the Lord's will done, whether it be his remaining there or
    returning.

    _April 23._--Wrote to India.

    _November 30._--Heard yesterday, and again to-day, from
    India.[35] The illness of my friend fills me with apprehensions
    on his account, and I seemed called on to prepare for hearing of
    his removal. I wish to place before my eyes the blessedness of
    the change to him, and, though agitated and sad, I can bear to
    think of our never more beholding each other in this world. This
    indeed has long been my expectation, and that he should have
    left the toils of mortality for the joys of heaven should, on
    his account, fill me with praise--yet my heart cannot rise with
    thankfulness. I seem stupefied, insensible to any feeling but
    that of anxiety to hear again and know the truth, and that my
    heart could joy in God at all times; but alas! all is cold
    there! Oh, return, blessed Spirit of life and peace.

    _1811, March 28._--Heard from my dearest friend in India.[36]
    Rose early. Found my spirit engaged in prayer, but was far ...
    otherwise in reading. Such dulness and inattention as ought
    deeply to abase me, vanity and a desire to appear of importance
    in the school, beset me.

Corrie had been ordered from his narrow parish of Chunar to the wider
field of Agra, and on his way up was directed to remain at Cawnpore to
help his friend, whose physical exhaustion was too apparent even to
the most careless officer. Among those influenced by both was one of
the surgeons, Dr. Govan,[37] who was spared, at St. Andrews, till
after the Mutiny of 1857, when in an unpublished lecture to its
Literary and Philosophical Society, he thus alluded to these workers
in Cawnpore:

    The Hukeem and the missionary hear native opinion spoken out
    with much greater freedom than the political agent, the judge,
    or commandant. 'Were there many more of the _Sahibean Ungez_
    (the English gentlemen) in character like the Padre Sahibs
    (Corrie and Martyn), Christianity would make more progress
    here,' was the unvaried testimony of the natives in their
    favour.... I cannot help mentioning the results of various
    conversations I had with two natives of Eastern rank and family
    employed by the Venerable Mr. Corrie, afterwards Bishop of
    Madras, and the Rev. Henry Martyn, in Scripture translation, and
    whose assistance I had used in the study of the languages, as
    they quite coincide with much which I had the opportunity of
    hearing among men of still higher position in the native
    educated community, when attached to the staff of the
    Governor-General: 'By the decrees of God,' said the Mohammedan
    noble, 'and the ubiquity of their fleets, armaments, and
    commerce, it appears plainly that the European nations have
    become the arbiters of the destinies of the nations of Asia. Yet
    this seems to us strange in the followers of Him who taught that
    His true disciples must be ready to give their cloaks also to
    him who took from them their coats.' To which I had no better
    reply than this, that the progress of events in the world's
    history seems to us to give evidence that undoubtedly a Divine
    message had been sent, both to governments and their subjects,
    to which, at their peril, both must give attention. But that,
    as a question of public national policy, it seemed generally
    admitted and understood that the civil rulers of no nation,
    Christian, Mohammedan, or Heathen, were laid under an
    obligation, by their individual beliefs, to allow a country,
    unable to govern itself by reason of its interminable divisions
    and subjects of deadly internal strife, to be occupied and made
    use of by their European or other enemies, as a means for their
    own injury or destruction, for any criminal or sinful acts, done
    in the building up of a nation or government. I may add that I
    never heard a native of India attempt directly to impugn the
    perfect justice of the British possession of India on this
    ground. 'The Padre Sahib has put the subject in its true light'
    (said the same Mohammedan authority) 'when he said that
    Christianity had higher objects in view, in its influence on
    human character, than to enforce absolute rules about meats and
    drinks; for should he even induce me (which is unlikely) to
    become more of a Christian than I am, believing, as I do, in the
    authority of the Old Testament prophets, and in Jesus Christ as
    a prophet sent by God, he will never persuade me to look upon
    many articles of diet used by Christians with anything but the
    most intense disgust and abhorrence, and he will assuredly find
    it the same with most of these idolatrous Hindus.'

We return to Martyn's _Journal_ and _Correspondence_:

    _July 8._ (Sunday.)--Corrie preached to the 53rd a funeral
    sermon on the death of one of their captains. In the afternoon I
    spoke to the natives on the first commandment, with greater
    fluency than I have yet found. My thoughts to-day very much
    towards Lydia; I began even to be reconciled to the idea of
    going to England for her. 'Many are the thoughts of a man's
    heart, but the counsel of the Lord, that shall stand.'

                         TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                          Cawnpore: August 14, 1810.

    With what delight do I sit down to begin a letter to my beloved
    Lydia! Yours of February 5, which I received a few days ago, was
    written, I conceive, in considerable embarrassment. You thought
    it possible it might find me married, or about to be so. Let me
    begin, therefore, with assuring you, with more truth than Gehazi
    did his master, 'Thy servant went no whither:' my heart has not
    strayed from Marazion, or Gurlyn, or wherever you are. Five long
    years have passed, and I am still faithful. Happy would it be if
    I could say that I had been equally true to my profession of
    love for Him who is fairer than ten thousand, and altogether
    lovely. Yet to the praise of His grace let me recollect that
    twice five years have passed away since I began to know Him, and
    I am still not gone from Him. On the contrary, time and
    experience have endeared the Lord to me more and more, so that I
    feel less inclination, and see less reason for leaving Him. What
    is there, alas! in the world, were it even everlasting?

    I rejoice at the accounts you give me of your continued good
    health and labours of love. Though you are not so usefully
    employed as you might be in India, yet as that must not be, I
    contemplate with delight your exertions at the other end of the
    world. May you be instrumental in bringing many sons and
    daughters to glory. What is become of St. Hilary and its fairy
    scenes? When I think of Malachy, and the old man, and your
    sister, and Josepha, etc., how some are dead, and the rest
    dispersed, and their place occupied by strangers, it seems all
    like a dream.

    _August 15._--It is only little intervals of time that I can
    find for writing; my visitors, about whom I shall write
    presently, taking up much of my leisure from necessary duty.
    Here follow some extracts from my _Journal_....

    Here my _Journal_ must close. I do not know whether you
    understand from it how we go on. I must endeavour to give you a
    clearer idea of it.

    We all live here in bungalows, or thatched houses, on a piece of
    ground enclosed. Next to mine is the church, not yet opened for
    public worship, but which we make use of at night with the men
    of the 53rd. Corrie lives with me, and Miss Corrie with the
    Sherwoods. We usually rise at daybreak, and breakfast at six.
    Immediately after breakfast we pray together, after which I
    translate into Arabic with Sabat, who lives in a small bungalow
    on my ground. We dine at twelve, and sit recreating ourselves
    with talking a little about dear friends in England. In the
    afternoon, I translate with Mirza Fitrut into Hindustani, and
    Corrie employs himself in teaching some native Christian boys
    whom he is educating with great care, in hopes of their being
    fit for the office of catechist. I have also a school on my
    premises, for natives; but it is not well attended. There are
    not above sixteen Hindu boys in it at present: half of them read
    the Book of Genesis. At sunset we ride or drive, and then meet
    at the church, where we often raise the song of praise, with as
    much joy, through the grace and presence of our Lord, as you do
    in England. At ten we are all asleep. Thus we go on. To the
    hardships of missionaries we are strangers, yet not averse, I
    trust, to encounter them when we are called. My work at present
    is evidently to translate; hereafter I may itinerate. Dear
    Corrie, I fear, never will, he always suffers from moving about
    in the daytime. But I should have said something about my
    health, as I find my death was reported at Cambridge. I thank
    God I am perfectly well, though not very strong in my lungs;
    they do not seem affected yet, but I cannot speak long without
    uneasiness. From the nature of my complaint, if it deserves the
    name, it is evident that England is the last place I should go
    to. I should go home only to find a grave. How shall I
    therefore ever see you more on this side of eternity? Well! be
    it so, since such is the will of God: we shall meet, through
    grace, in the realms of bliss.

    I am truly sorry to see my paper fail. Write as often as
    possible, every three months at least. Tell me where you go, and
    whom you see and what you read.

    _August 17._--I am sorry to conclude with saying that my
    yesterday's boasted health proved a mistake; I was seized with
    violent sickness in the night, but to-day am better. Continue to
    pray for me, and believe me to be, your ever affectionate,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

    _September 22._--Was walking with Lydia; both much affected, and
    speaking on the things dearest to us both. I awoke, and behold
    it was a dream. My mind remained very solemn and pensive; shed
    some tears; the clock struck three, and the moon was riding near
    her highest noon; all was silence and solemnity, and I thought
    with some pain of the sixteen thousand miles between us. But
    good is the will of the Lord, if I see her no more.

                         TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                   From the Ganges: October 6, 1810.

    My dearest Lydia,--Though I have had no letter from you very
    lately, nor have anything particular to say, yet having been
    days on the water without a person to speak to, tired also with
    reading and thinking, I mean to indulge myself with a little of
    what is always agreeable to me, and sometimes good for me; for
    as my affection for you has something sacred in it, being
    founded on, or at least cemented by, an union of spirit in the
    Lord Jesus; so my separation also from you produced a deadness
    to the world, at least for a time, which leaves a solemn
    impression as often as I think of it. Add to this, that as I
    must not indulge the hope of ever seeing you again in this
    world, I cannot think of you without thinking also of that
    world where we shall meet. You mention in one of your letters my
    coming to England, as that which may eventually prove a duty.
    You ought to have added, that in case I do come, you will
    consider it a duty not to let me come away again without you.
    But I am not likely to put you to the trial. Useless as I am
    here, I often think I should be still more so at home. Though my
    voice fails me, I can translate and converse. At home I should
    be nothing without being able to lift my voice on high. I have
    just left my station, Cawnpore, in order to be silent six
    months. I have no cough, or any kind of consumption, except that
    reading prayers, or preaching, or a slight cold, brings on pain
    in the chest. I am advised therefore to recruit my strength by
    rest. So I am come forth, with my face towards Calcutta, with an
    ulterior view to the sea. Nothing happened at Cawnpore, after I
    wrote to you in September but I must look to my _Journal_.

    I think of having my portrait taken in Calcutta, as I promised
    Mr. Simeon five years ago. Sabat's picture would also be a
    curiosity. Yesterday I carried Col. Wood to dine with me, at the
    Nabob Bahir Ali's. Sabat was there. The Colonel, who had been
    reading by the way the account of his conversion, in the Asiatic
    and East Society Report, which I had given him, eyed him with no
    great complacency, and observed in French, that Sabat might not
    understand him, 'Il a l'air d'un sauvage.' Sabat's countenance
    is indeed terrible; noble when he is pleased, but with the look
    of an assassin when he is out of humour. I have had more
    opportunities of knowing Sabat than any man has had, and I
    cannot regard him with that interest which the 'Star in the
    East' is calculated to excite in most people. Buchanan says, I
    wrote (to whom I do not know) in terms of admiration and
    affection about him. Affection I do feel for him, but
    admiration, if I did once feel it, I am not conscious of it at
    present. I tremble for everything our dear friends publish
    about our doings in India, lest shame come to us and them.

    _Calcutta, November 5._--A sheet full, like the preceding, I had
    written, but the moment it is necessary to send off my letter I
    cannot find it. That it does not go on to you is of little
    consequence, but into whose hands may it have fallen? It is this
    that grieves me. It was the continuance of my _Journal_ to
    Calcutta, where I arrived the last day in October. Constant
    conversation with dear friends here has brought on the pain in
    the chest again, so that I do not attempt to preach. In two or
    three weeks I shall embark for the Gulf of Persia, where, if I
    live, I shall solace myself in my hours of solitude with writing
    to you.

    Farewell, beloved friend; pray for me, as you do, I am sure, and
    doubt not of an unceasing interest in the heart and prayers of
    your ever affectionate,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

Ordered away on six months' sick leave, Henry Martyn had the joy of
once at least ministering to his soldier flock in the 'new church,'
which he had induced the authorities to form out of an ordinary
bungalow. Daily and fondly had he watched the preparations, reporting
to Brown: 'My church is almost ready for the organ and the bell.' On
Sunday, September 16, he had written:

    'Rain prevented me from having any service in public; the
    natives not being able to sit upon the grass, I could not preach
    to them.'

On Sunday, September 30, he thus took farewell of his different
congregations:

    Corrie preached to the Dragoons, at nine the new church was
    opened. There was a considerable congregation, and I preached
    on, 'In all places where I record my name, I will come unto thee
    and bless thee.' I felt something of thankfulness and joy, and
    our dear friends the same. The Sherwoods and Miss Corrie stayed
    with us the rest of the day. In the afternoon I preached the
    Gospel to the natives for the first time, giving them a short
    account of the life, death, miracles, manner of teaching, death
    and resurrection of Jesus, then the doctrines of His religion,
    and concluded with exhorting them to believe in Him, and taking
    them to record that I had declared to them the glad tidings that
    had come to us, and that if they rejected it I was clear from
    their blood, and thus I bid them farewell.

Mrs. Sherwood thus describes the scene:

    On the Sunday before Mr. Martyn left the church was opened, and
    the bell sounded for the first time over this land of darkness.
    The church was crowded, and there was the band of our regiment
    to lead the singing and the chanting. Sergeant Clarke--our
    Sergeant Clarke--had been appointed as clerk; and there he sat
    under the desk in due form, in his red coat, and went through
    his duty with all due correctness. The Rev. Daniel Corrie read
    prayers, and Mr. Martyn preached. That was a day never to be
    forgotten. Those only who have been for some years in a place
    where there never has been public worship can have any idea of
    the fearful effect of its absence, especially among the mass of
    the people, who, of course, are unregenerate. Every prescribed
    form of public worship certainly has a tendency to become
    nothing more than a form, yet even a form may awaken reflection,
    and any state is better than that of perfect deadness. From his
    first arrival at the station Mr. Martyn had been labouring to
    effect the purpose which he then saw completed; namely, the
    opening of a place of worship. He was permitted to see it, to
    address the congregation once, and then he was summoned to
    depart. How often, how very often, are human beings called away,
    perhaps from this world, at the moment they have been enabled to
    bring to bear some favourite object. Blessed are those whose
    object has been such a one as that of Henry Martyn. Alas! he was
    known to be, even then, in a most dangerous state of health,
    either burnt within by slow inflammation, which gave a flush to
    his cheek, or pale as death from weakness and lassitude.

    On this occasion the bright glow prevailed--a brilliant light
    shone from his eyes--he was filled with hope and joy; he saw the
    dawn of better things, he thought, at Cawnpore, and most
    eloquent, earnest, and affectionate was his address to the
    congregation. Our usual party accompanied him back to his
    bungalow, where, being arrived, he sank, as was often his way,
    nearly fainting, on a sofa in the hall. Soon, however, he
    revived a little, and called us all about him to sing. It was
    then that we sang to him that sweet hymn which thus begins:

        O God, our help in ages past,
          Our hope for years to come,
        Our shelter from the stormy blast,
          And our eternal home.

    We all dined early together, and then returned with our little
    ones to enjoy some rest and quiet; but when the sun began to
    descend to the horizon we again went over to Mr. Martyn's
    bungalow, to hear his _last_ address to the _fakeers_. It was
    one of those sickly, hazy, burning evenings, which I have before
    described, and the scene was precisely such a one as I have
    recounted above. Mr. Martyn nearly fainted again after this
    effort, and when he got to his house, with his friends about
    him, he told us that he was afraid he had not been the means of
    doing the smallest good to any one of the strange people whom he
    had thus so often addressed. He did not even then know of the
    impression he had been enabled to make, on one of these
    occasions, on Sheikh Saleh. On the Monday our beloved friend
    went to his boats, which lay at the Ghaut, nearest the bungalow;
    but in the cool of the evening, however, whilst Miss Corrie and
    myself were taking the air in our tonjons, he came after us on
    horseback. There was a gentle sadness in his aspect as he
    accompanied me home; and Miss Corrie came also. Once again we
    all supped together, and united in one last hymn. We were all
    low, very, very low; we could never expect to behold again that
    face which we then saw--to hear again that voice, or to be again
    elevated and instructed by that conversation. It was impossible
    to hope that he would survive the fatigue of such a journey as
    he meditated. Often and often, when thinking of him, have these
    verses, so frequently sung by him, come to my mind:

        E'er since by faith I saw the stream
          Thy flowing wounds supply,
        Redeeming love has been my theme,
          And shall be till I die.

        Then, in a nobler, sweeter song,
          I'll sing Thy power to save,
        When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
          Is silent in the grave.

Henry Martyn's continued to be the military church of Cawnpore till
1857, when it was destroyed in the Mutiny. Its place has been taken
by a Memorial Church which visibly proclaims forgiveness and peace
on the never-to-be forgotten site of Wheeler's entrenchment--consecrated
ground indeed!

On October 1 he left Cawnpore, 'after a parting prayer with my dearest
brother Corrie,'[38] to whom he wrote from Allahabad:

    Thus far we are come in safety; but my spirits tell me that I
    have parted with friends. Your pale face as it appeared on
    Monday morning is still before my eyes, and will not let me be
    easy till you tell me you are strong and prudent. The first
    night there blew a wind so bleak and cold, through and through
    my boat and bed, that I rose, as I expected, with a pain in the
    breast, which has not quite left me, but will, I hope, to-night,
    when I shall take measures for expelling it. There is a gate not
    paid for yet belonging to the churchyard, may you always go
    through it in faith and return through it with praise. You are
    now in prayer with our men. The Lord be with you, and be always
    with you, dearest brother.

Ministering to all who needed his services, in preaching, baptizing,
and marrying, on his way down the great Ganges, at Benares, at
Ghazipore, where he met with 'the remains' of his old 67th regiment,
at Bhagulpore, and at Bandel, where he called on the Roman Catholics,
on November 12 he at last came to Aldeen.

    Children jumping, shouting, and convoying me in troops to the
    house. They are a lovely family indeed, and I do not know when I
    have felt so delighted as at family worship last night. To-day
    Mr. Brown and myself have been consulting at the Pagoda.

After four years' absence he seemed a dying man to his Serampore and
Calcutta friends, Brown, Thomason, Udny, and Colonel Young of Dinapore
memory. But he was ever cheerful, and he preached every Sunday for
five weeks, though in his _Journal_ we find this on November 21:

    Caught a cold, and kept awake much of the night by a cough. From
    this day perhaps I may date my decay. Nature shrinks from
    dissolution, and conscience trembles at the thought of a
    judgment to come. But I try to rejoice in God through our Lord
    Jesus Christ.

    _November 25._ (Sunday.)--Preached at the old church, on 'While
    Paul reasoned of righteousness,' etc. The Governor-General, Lord
    Minto, was present, desiring, as was supposed, to abolish the
    distinction which had been made between the two churches. One
    passage in my sermon appeared to some personal, and on
    reconsideration I thought it so myself, and was excessively
    distressed at having given causeless offence, and perhaps
    preventing much good. Lord! pardon a blind creature. How much
    mischief may I do through mere thoughtlessness!

    _December 2._--Preached at eight, on 'Grace reigns,' and was
    favoured with strength of body and joy of heart in proclaiming
    the glorious truth.

    _December 25._--Preached, with much comfort to myself, on 'God
    so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son,' etc. Mr.
    Brown on 'Let your light so shine before men,' etc. The whole
    sum collected about seven thousand rupees. At night Mr. Thomason
    on 'Through the tender mercy of our God, whereby the dayspring
    from on high hath visited us.' This day how many of those who
    love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity are rejoicing in His
    birth. My dear Lydia remembers me.

    _December 31._--Had a long dispute with Marshman, which brought
    on pain in the chest.

He opened the year 1811 by preaching for the new Calcutta Auxiliary of
the British and Foreign Bible Society his published sermon on
Christian India and the Bible, to be read in the light of his own
translation work hereafter. He thus on the same day committed himself
to the future in the spirit of St. Paul:

    _1811._--The weakness which has come upon me in the course of
    the last year, if it should not give an entire new turn to my
    life, is likely to be productive of events in the course of the
    present year which I little expected, or at least did not expect
    so soon. I now pass from India to Arabia, not knowing what
    things shall befall me there; but assured that an ever-faithful
    God and Saviour will be with me in all places whithersoever I
    go. May He guide and protect me, and after prospering me in the
    thing whereunto I go, bring me back again to my delightful work
    in India. It would be a painful thought indeed, to suppose
    myself about to return no more. Having succeeded, apparently,
    through His blessing, in the Hindustani New Testament, I feel
    much encouraged, and could wish to be spared in order to finish
    the Bible.

FOOTNOTES:

[32] _The Life of Mrs. Sherwood_ (chiefly autobiographical), edited by
her Daughter. London, 1854.

[33] 'He was at that time married to his seventh wife; that is,
according to his own account. Ameena was a pretty young woman, though
particularly dark for a purdah-walla, or one, according to the Eastern
custom, who is supposed always to sit behind a purdah, or curtain. She
occupied the smaller bungalow, which adjoined the larger by a long,
covered passage. Our children often went to see her whilst they were
at Mr. Martyn's, and I paid her one formal visit. I found her seated
on the ground, encircled by cushions within gauze mosquito-curtains,
stretched by ropes from the four corners of the hall. In the daytime
these curtains were twisted and knotted over her head, and towards the
night they were let down around her, and thus she slept where she had
sat all day. She had one or two women in constant attendance upon her,
though her husband was a mere subordinate. These Eastern women have
little idea of using the needle, and very few are taught any other
feminine accomplishment. Music and literature, dancing and singing,
are known only to the Nautch or dancing-girls by profession. Hence,
nothing on earth can be imagined to be more monotonous than the lives
of women in the East; such, I mean, as are not compelled to servile
labour. They sit on their cushions behind their curtains from day to
day, from month to month, with no other occupation than that of having
their hair dressed, and their nails and eyelids stained, and no other
amusement than hearing the _gup_, or gossip of the place where they
may happen to be; nor is any gossip too low or too frivolous to be
unacceptable. The visits of our children and nurses were very
acceptable to Ameena, and she took much and tender notice of the baby.
She lived on miserable terms with her husband, and hated him most
cordially. She was a Mussulman, and he was very anxious to make her a
Christian, to which she constantly showed strong opposition. At
length, however, she terminated the controversy in the following
extraordinary manner: "Pray, will you have the goodness to inform me
where Christians go after death?" "To heaven and to their Saviour,"
replied Sabat. "And where do Mahometans go?" she asked. "To hell and
the devil," answered the fierce Arab. "You," said the meek wife, "will
go to heaven, of course, as being a Christian." "Certainly," replied
Sabat. "Well, then," she said, "I will continue to be a Mussulman,
because I should prefer hell and the devil without you, to heaven
itself in your presence." This anecdote was told to Mr. Martyn by
Sabat himself, as a proof of the hardened spirit of his wife.

'Ameena was, by the Arab's own account, his seventh wife. He had some
wonderful story to tell of each of his former marriages; but that
which he related of his sixth wife exceeded all the rest in the
marvellous and the romantic. He told this tale at Mr. Martyn's table
one evening, whilst we were at supper, during the week we lived in the
house. He spoke in Persian, and Mr. Martyn interpreted what he said,
and it was this he narrated: It was on some occasion, he said, in
which Fortune had played him one of her worst tricks, and reduced him
to a state of the most abject poverty, that he happened to arrive one
night at a certain city, which was the capital of some rajah, or petty
king--Sabat called this person a king. It seemed he arrived at a
crisis in which the king's only daughter had given her father some
terrible offence, and in order to be revenged upon her, the father
issued his commands that she should be compelled to take for her
husband the first stranger who arrived in the town after sunset. This
man happened to be our Arab; he was accordingly seized and subjected
to the processes of bathing and anointing with precious oil. He was
then magnificently dressed, introduced into the royal hall, and duly
married to the princess, who proved not only to be fair as the houris,
but to be quite prepared to love the husband whom Fortune had sent
her. He lived with her, he pretended, I know not how many years, and
they were perfectly happy until the princess died, and he lost the
favour of his majesty. I think that Sabat laid the scene of this
adventure in or near Agra. But this could hardly be. That such things
have been in the East--that is, that royal parents have taken such
means of avenging themselves on offending daughters--is quite certain;
but I cannot venture to assert that Sabat was telling the truth when
he made himself the hero of the tale.'

[34] Corrie and Brown.

[35] By letters written March 30 and April 19, 1810, from Cawnpore.

[36] By letter written August 14, 1810.

[37] On leaving the station Henry Martyn presented his French New
Testament to Dr. Govan, a little morocco-bound volume which his son
prizes as an heirloom.

[38] We have these reminiscences of Henry Martyn's Cawnpore from Bishop
Corrie, when, as Archdeacon of Calcutta, he again visited it. In 1824 he
writes: 'I arrived at this station on the day fourteen years after
sainted Martyn had dedicated the church. The house he occupied stands
close by. The view of the place and the remembrance of what had passed
greatly affected me.... I had to assist in administering the sacrament,
and well it was, on the whole, that none present could enter into my
feelings, or I should have been overcome.' Again: 'How would it have
rejoiced the heart of Martyn could he have had the chief authorities
associated, by order of Government, to assist him in the work of
education; and how gladly would he have made himself their servant in
the work for Jesus' sake! One poor blind man who lives in an outhouse of
Martyn's, and received a small monthly sum from him, often comes to our
house, and affords a mournful pleasure in reminding me of some little
occurrence of those times. A wealthy native too, who lived next door to
us, sent his nephew to express to me the pleasure he derived from his
acquaintance with Martyn. These are all the traces I have found of that
"excellent one of the earth" at the station.'

In 1833 Corrie was again at Cawnpore, which had two chaplains then,
and thus wrote: '_October 6._--I attended Divine service at the church
bungalow, and stood up once more in Martyn's pulpit. The place is a
little enlarged. The remembrance of Martyn and the Sherwoods, and Mary
(his sister), with the occupations of that period, came powerfully to
my recollection, and I could not prevent the tears from flowing. A
sense of the forgiving love of God, with the prospect of all joining
in thankful adoration in the realms of bliss, greatly preponderates.'



CHAPTER VIII

FROM CALCUTTA TO CEYLON, BOMBAY, AND ARABIA


Two motives made Henry Martyn eager to leave India for a time, and to
cease the strain on his fast-ebbing strength, caused by incessant
preaching and speaking: he desired to prolong his life, but to prolong
it only till he should give the Mohammedans of Arabia and Persia the
Word of God in their own tongues. After his first, almost fatal,
attack at Dinapore, Corrie, who had gone to help him in his duties,
wrote to 'the Patriarch,' as they called Mr. Brown, at Aldeen: 'He
wishes to be spared on account of the translations, but with great
earnestness said, "I wish to have my whole soul swallowed up in the
will of God."' Two years after, Corrie wrote to England from Cawnpore:
'He is going to try sea air. May God render it effectual to his
restoration. His life is beyond all price to us. You know what a
profound scholar he is, and all his acquirements are dedicated to the
service of Christ. If ever man, since St. Paul, could use these words,
he may, _One thing I do_. But the length of his life will depend on
his desisting from public duties.' To Martyn himself, when at last he
had left Cawnpore, Corrie wrote: 'If you will not take rest, dear
brother, come away back;' informing him, at the same time, that he had
returned to a Colonel, whom he had married, 1,600 rupees, he and
Martyn having resolved to decline all fees for marrying and burying in
India, where such were a stumbling-block in the way of morality and
religion, constituted as Anglo-Indian society was at that time.

When he was leaving Cawnpore, Henry Martyn was about to destroy what
he called 'a number of memorandums.' These afterwards proved to be his
_Journals_ from January 1803 to 1811, some of which were written in
Latin, and some in Greek, for greater secrecy. Corrie remonstrated
with him, and persuaded him to seal them up and leave them in his
hands. Lord Minto, the Governor-General, and General Hewett, the
Commander-in-chief, after receiving a statement of Martyn's object,
gave their sanction to his spending his sick-leave in Persia and
Syria. At first the only ship he could find bound for Bombay, _en
route_ to the Persian Gulf, was one of the native buggalows which
carried the coasting trade in the days before the British India Steam
Navigation Company had begun to develop the commerce of the Indian
Ocean all along East Africa, Southern Asia, the Spice Islands, and
Australasia. But he wrote to Corrie:

    The captain of the ship after many excuses has at last refused
    to take me, on the ground that I might try to convert the Arab
    sailors, and so cause a mutiny in the ship. So I am quite out of
    heart, and more than half disposed to go to the right about, and
    come back to Cawnpore.

His uncompromising earnestness as a witness for Christ was well known.
Fortunately, a month after, the Honourable Mountstuart Elphinstone
'was proceeding to take the residency of Poona,' and Martyn secured a
passage in the same ship, the Hummoody, an Arab coaster belonging to
a Muscat merchant, and manned by his Abyssinian slave as Nakhoda.

His last message to Calcutta, on the evening of the first Sunday of
the year 1811, was on _The one thing needful_. Next morning he quietly
went on board Mr. Elphinstone's pinnace 'without taking leave of my
two dear friends in Calcutta.' As they dropped down the Hoogli,
anchoring for two nights in its treacherous waters, his henceforth
brief entries in his _Journal_ are these: '8th. Conversation with Mr.
Elphinstone, and disputes with his Persian moulvi, left me weak and in
pain. 9th. Reached the ship at Saugur, and began to try my strength
with the Arab sailors.' He found that the country-born captain,
Kinsay, had been brought up by Schwartz, and he obtained from him much
information regarding the habits and the rule of the Lutheran apostle
of Southern India. This is new:

    It was said that Schwartz had a warning given him of his death.
    One clear moonlight night he saw a light, and heard a voice
    which said to him, 'Follow me.' He got up and went to the door;
    here the vision vanished. The next day he sent for Dr. Anderson
    and said, 'An old tree must fall.' On the doctor's perceiving
    there was nothing the matter with him, Schwartz asked him
    whether he observed any disorder in his intellect; to which the
    doctor replied, 'No.' He and General Floyd (now in Ireland),
    another friend of Schwartz, came and stayed with him. The next
    fifteen days he was continually engaged in devotion, and
    attended no more to the school: on the last day he died in his
    chair.

Henry Martyn was well fitted by culture and training to appreciate the
society of such statesmen and thinkers as Mountstuart Elphinstone,
Sir John Malcolm, Sir James Mackintosh, and Jonathan Duncan, who in
their turn delighted in his society during the next five weeks. Of the
first he wrote to Corrie: 'His agreeable manners and classical
acquirements made me think myself fortunate indeed in having such a
companion, and I found his company the most agreeable circumstance in
my voyage.' They walked together in the cinnamon groves of Ceylon,
when the ship touched at Colombo; together they talked of the work of
Xavier as they skirted Cape Comorin, and observed Portuguese churches
every two or three miles, with a row of huts on each side. 'Perhaps,'
he wrote in his _Journal_, 'many of these poor people, with all the
incumbrances of Popery, are moving towards the kingdom of heaven.'
Together the two visited old Goa, the ecclesiastical capital, its
convents and churches. The year after their visit the Goa Inquisition,
one of the cruellest of its branches since its foundation, was
suppressed. Henry Martyn's letters to Lydia Grenfell best describe his
experiences and impressions:

                         TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                         At Sea, Coast of Malabar: February 4, 1811.

    The last letter I wrote to you, my dearest Lydia, was dated
    November 1810. I continued in Calcutta to the end of the year,
    preaching once a week, and reading the Word in some happy little
    companies, with whom I enjoyed that sweet communion which all in
    this vale of tears have reason to be thankful for, but
    especially those whose lot is cast in a heathen land. On
    New-year's day, at Mr. Brown's urgent request, I preached a
    sermon for the Bible Society, recommending an immediate
    attention to the state of the native Christians. At the time I
    left Calcutta they talked of forming an auxiliary society.
    Leaving Calcutta was so much like leaving England, that I went
    on board my boat without giving them notice, and so escaped the
    pain of bidding them farewell. In two days I met my ship at the
    mouth of the river, and we put to sea immediately. Our ship is
    commanded by a pupil of Schwartz, and manned by Arabians,
    Abyssinians, and others. One of my fellow-passengers is Mr.
    Elphinstone, who was lately ambassador at the court of the King
    of Cabul, and is now going to be resident at Poona, the capital
    of the Mahratta empire. So the group is rather interesting, and
    I am happy to say not averse to religious instruction; I mean
    the Europeans. As for the Asiatics, they are in language,
    customs, and religion, as far removed from us as if they were
    inhabitants of another planet. I speak a little Arabic sometimes
    to the sailors, but their contempt of the Gospel, and attachment
    to their own superstition, make their conversion appear
    impossible. How stupendous that power which can make these
    people the followers of the Lamb, when they so nearly resemble
    Satan in pride and wickedness! The first part of the voyage I
    was without employment, and almost without thought, suffering as
    usual so much from sea sickness, that I had not spirits to do
    anything but sit upon the poop, surveying the wide waste of
    waters blue. This continued all down the Bay of Bengal. At
    length in the neighbourhood of Ceylon we found smooth water, and
    came to an anchor off Colombo, the principal station in the
    island. The captain having proposed to his passengers that they
    should go ashore and refresh themselves with a walk in the
    cinnamon gardens, Mr. Elphinstone and myself availed ourselves
    of the offer, and went off to inhale the cinnamon breeze. The
    walk was delightful. The huts of the natives, who are (in that
    neighbourhood at least) most of them Protestants, are built in
    thick groves of cocoanut-tree, with openings here and there,
    discovering the sea. Everything bore the appearance of
    contentment. I contemplated them with delight, and was almost
    glad that I could not speak with them, lest further acquaintance
    should have dissipated the pleasing ideas their appearance gave
    birth to. In the gardens I cut off a piece of the bark for you.
    It will not be so fragrant as that which is properly prepared;
    but it will not have lost its fine smell, I hope, when it
    reaches you.

    At Captain Rodney's, the Chief Secretary to Government, we met a
    good part of the European society of Colombo. The party was like
    most mixed parties in England, where much is said that need not
    be remembered. The next day we stretched across the Gulf of
    Manaar, and soon came in sight of Cape Comorin, the great
    promontory of India. At a distance the green waves seemed to
    wash the foot of the mountain, but on a nearer approach little
    churches were seen, apparently on the beach, with a row of
    little huts on each side. Was it these maritime situations that
    recalled to my mind Perran church and town in the way to Gurlyn;
    or that my thoughts wander too often on the beach to the east of
    Lamorran? You do not tell me whether you ever walk there, and
    imagine the billows that break at your feet to have made their
    way from India. But why should I wish to know? Had I observed
    silence on that day and thenceforward, I should have spared you
    much trouble, and myself much pain. Yet I am far from regretting
    that I spoke, since I am persuaded that all things will work
    together for good. I sometimes try to put such a number of
    things together as shall produce the greatest happiness
    possible, and I find that even in imagination I cannot satisfy
    myself. I set myself to see what is that 'good for the sons of
    men, which they should do under heaven all the days of their
    life,' and I find that paradise is not here. Many things are
    delightful, some things are almost all one could wish; but yet
    in all beauty there is deformity, in the most perfect something
    wanting, and there is no hope of its ever being otherwise.
    'That which is crooked cannot be made straight, and that which
    is wanting cannot be numbered.' So that the expectation of
    happiness on earth seems chimerical to the last degree. In my
    schemes of happiness I place myself of course with you, blessed
    with great success in the ministry, and seeing all India turning
    to the Lord. Yet it is evident that with these joys there would
    be mingled many sorrows. The care of all the churches was a
    burden to the mighty mind of St. Paul. As for what we should be
    together, I judge of it from our friends. Are they quite beyond
    the vexations of common life? I think not--still I do not say
    that it is a question whether they gained or lost by marrying.
    Their affections will live when ours (I should rather say mine)
    are dead. Perhaps it may not be the effect of celibacy; but I
    certainly begin to feel a wonderful indifference to all but
    myself. From so seldom seeing a creature that cares for me, and
    never one that depends at all upon me, I begin to look round
    upon men with reciprocal apathy. It sometimes calls itself
    deadness to the world, but I much fear that it is deadness of
    heart. I am exempt from worldly cares myself, and therefore do
    not feel for others. Having got out of the stream into still
    water, I go round and round in my own little circle. This
    supposed deterioration you will ascribe to my humility;
    therefore I add that Mr. Brown could not help remarking the
    difference between what I am and what I was, and observed on
    seeing my picture, which was taken at Calcutta for Mr. Simeon,
    and is thought a striking likeness, that it was not Martyn that
    arrived in India, but Martyn the recluse.

    _February 10._--To-day my affections seem to have revived a
    little. I have been often deceived in times past, and
    erroneously called animal spirits joy in the Holy Ghost. Yet I
    trust that I can say with truth, 'To them who believe, He is
    precious!' Yes, Thou art precious to my soul, my transport and
    my trust. No thought now is so sweet as that which those words
    suggest--'_In Christ_.' Our destinies thus inseparably united
    with those of the Son of God, what is too great to be expected?
    All things are yours, for ye are Christ's! We may ask what we
    will, and it shall be given to us. Now, why do I ever lose sight
    of Him, or fancy myself without Him, or try to do anything
    without Him? Break off a branch from a tree, and how long will
    it be before it withers? To-day, my beloved sister, I rejoice in
    you before the Lord, I rejoice in you as a member of the mystic
    body, I pray that your prayers for one who is unworthy of your
    remembrance may be heard, and bring down tenfold blessings on
    yourself. How good is the Lord in giving me grace to rejoice
    with His chosen all over the earth; even with those who are at
    this moment going up with the voice of joy and praise, to tread
    His courts and sing His praise. There is not an object about me
    but is depressing. Yet my heart expands with delight at the
    presence of a gracious God, and the assurance that my separation
    from His people is only temporary.

    On the 7th we landed at Goa, the capital of the Portuguese
    possessions in the East. I reckoned much on my visit to Goa,
    expecting, from its being the residence of the archbishop and
    many ecclesiastics, that I should obtain such information about
    the Christians in India as would render it superfluous to make
    inquiries elsewhere, but I was much disappointed. Perhaps it was
    owing to our being accompanied by several officers, English and
    Portuguese, that the archbishop and his principal agents would
    not be seen; but so it was, that I scarcely met with a man who
    could make himself intelligible. We are shown what strangers are
    usually shown, the churches and monasteries, but I wanted to
    contemplate man, the only thing on earth almost that possesses
    any interest for me. I beheld the stupendous magnificence of
    their noble churches without emotion, except to regret that the
    Gospel was not preached in them. In one of the monasteries we
    saw the tomb of Francis Xavier, the Apostle of India, most
    richly ornamented, as well as the room in which it stands, with
    paintings and figures in bronze, done in Italy. The friar who
    showed us the tomb, happening to speak of the grace of God in
    the heart, without which, said he, as he held the sacramental
    wafer, the body of Christ profits nothing. I began a
    conversation with him, which, however, came to nothing.

    We visited among many other places the convent of nuns. After a
    long altercation with the lady porter we were admitted to the
    antechamber, in which was the grate, a window with iron bars,
    behind which the poor prisoners make their appearance. While my
    companions were purchasing their trinkets I was employed in
    examining their countenances, which I did with great attention.
    In what possible way, thought I, can you support existence, if
    you do not find your happiness in God? They all looked ill and
    discontented, those at least whose countenances expressed
    anything. One sat by reading, as if nothing were going on. I
    asked to see the book, and it was handed through the grate.
    Finding that it was a Latin prayer-book, I wrote in Latin
    something about the love of the world, which seclusion from it
    would not remove. The Inquisition is still existing at Goa. We
    were not admitted as far as Dr. Buchanan was, to the Hall of
    Examination, and that because he printed something against the
    inquisitors which came to their knowledge. The priest in waiting
    acknowledged that they had some prisoners within the walls, and
    defended the practice of imprisoning and chastising offenders,
    on the ground of its being conformed to the custom of the
    Primitive Church. We were told that when the officers of the
    Inquisition touch an individual, and beckon him away, he dares
    not resist; if he does not come out again, no one must ask about
    him; if he does, he must not tell what was done to him.

    _February 18._--(Bombay.) Thus far I am brought in safety. On
    this day I complete my thirtieth year. 'Here I raise my
    Ebenezer; Hither by Thy help I'm come.' 27th. It is sweet to
    reflect that we shall at last reach our home. I am here amongst
    men who are indeed aliens to the commonwealth of Israel and
    without God in the world. I hear many of those amongst whom I
    live bring idle objections against religion, such as I have
    answered a hundred times. How insensible are men of the world to
    all that God is doing! How unconscious of His purposes
    concerning His Church! How incapable, seemingly, of
    comprehending the existence of it! I feel the meaning of St.
    Paul's words--'Hath abounded toward us in all wisdom and
    prudence, having made known unto us the mystery of His will,
    that He would gather in one all things in Christ.' Well! let us
    bless the Lord. 'All thy children shall be taught of the Lord,
    and great shall be the peace of thy children.' In a few days I
    expect to sail for the Gulf of Persia in one of the Company's
    sloops of war.

    Farewell, my beloved Lydia, and believe me to be ever yours most
    affectionately,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

All through the voyage, in the Bay of Bengal and the Indian Ocean, the
scholar was busy with his books, the Hebrew Old Testament, 'reading
Turkish grammar, Niebuhr's _Arabia_, making extracts from Maracci's
_Refutation of the Koran_, in general reading the Word of God with
pleasure.'

    _February 10._ (Sunday.)--Somewhat of a happy Sabbath; I enjoyed
    communion with the saints, though far removed from them; service
    morning and night in the cabin.

    _January 14_ to _17_.--When sitting on the poop Mr. Elphinstone
    kindly entertained me with information about India, the politics
    of which he has had such opportunities of making himself
    acquainted with. The Afghans, to whom he went as ambassador, to
    negotiate a treaty of alliance in case of invasion by the
    French, possess a tract of country considerably larger than
    Great Britain, using the Persian and Pushtu languages. Their
    chief tribe is the Doorani, from which the king is elected. Shah
    Zeman was dethroned by his half-brother Mahmood, governor of
    Herat, who put out his eyes. Shah Zeman's younger brother
    Shoujjah took up arms, and after several defeats established
    himself for a time. He was on the throne when Mr. Elphinstone
    visited him, but since that Mahmood has begun to dispute the
    sovereignty with him. Mr. Elphinstone has been with Holkar and
    Sindia a good deal. Holkar he described as a little spitfire,
    his general, Meer Khan, possessed abilities; Sindia none; the
    Rajah of Berar the most politic of the native powers, though the
    Nizam the most powerful; the influence of residents at Nagpoor
    and Hyderabad very small.

    _February 17._--Mostly employed in writing the Arabic tract,
    also in reading the Koran; a book of geography in Arabic, and
    _Jami Abbari_ in Persian.

    I would that all should adore, but especially that I myself
    should lie prostrate. As for self, contemptible self, I feel
    myself saying, let it be forgotten for ever; henceforth let
    Christ live, let Christ reign, let Him be glorified for ever.

    _February 18._--Came to anchor at Bombay. This day I finish the
    30th year of my unprofitable life, an age in which Brainerd had
    finished his course. He gained about a hundred savages to the
    Gospel; I can scarcely number the twentieth part. If I cannot
    act, and rejoice, and love with the ardour some did, oh, let me
    at least be holy, and sober, and wise. I am now at the age at
    which the Saviour of men began His ministry, and at which John
    the Baptist called a nation to repentance. Let me now think for
    myself and act with energy. Hitherto I have made my youth and
    insignificance an excuse for sloth and imbecility: now let me
    have a character, and act boldly for God.

    _February 19._--Went on shore. Waited on the Governor, and was
    kindly accommodated with a room at the Government House.

The Governor was the good Jonathan Duncan, in the last year of his
long administration and of his benevolent life. In the first decade of
the nineteenth century Bombay was a comparatively little place, but
the leaders of its English society were all remarkable men. In the
short time, even then, Bombay had become the political and social
centre of all the Asiatics and Africans, from Higher Asia, the Persian
Gulf, and Arabia, to Abyssinia, Zanzibar, and the Comoro Isles;
especially had it then begun to be what every generation since has
made it more and more, the best centre from which to direct a
Christian mission to the Mohammedans. With Poona, it is the capital of
the most subtle and unimpressionable class, the Marathi Brahmans, and
it is the point from which most widely to influence the Parsees. But
as a base of operations against Islam it has never yet been fully used
or appreciated. The late Hon. Ion Keith-Falconer preferred Aden, or
the neighbouring village of Sheikh Othman, the British door into
Arabia, of which he took possession for the Master by there laying
down his life in the ripeness of his years, his scholarship, and his
prosperity. But even in Arabia such work may be directed from Bombay.
The city, like its harbour for commerce, stands without a rival as a
missionary and civilising focus. Henry Martyn spent his weeks there in
mastering the needs of its varied races and religionists, Jewish and
Arabic, Persian and Brahman, talking with representative men of all
the cults, and striving to influence them. He kept steadily in view
his duty to the Mohammedans, writing his Arabic tract, and consulting
as to his Persian translation of the Scriptures. It was not given to
him to remain there. Dr. Taylor, whom he had joined with Brown and the
Serampore Brotherhood at Aldeen in commending to God, was hard at
work on the Malayalim New Testament, and he often visited the press to
see the sacred work in progress. It was to be the life task of the
Scottish Dr. John Wilson, twenty years after, to use Bombay as the
missionary key of the peoples who border the Indian Ocean.

The friend of Mountstuart Elphinstone and guest of the Governor, Henry
Martyn was welcomed by the literary society of the city, which at that
time was unrivalled in the East. It is fortunate that we thus obtain
an impartial estimate of his personal character and scholarship from
such men as Elphinstone, Mackintosh, and Malcolm. In their journals
and letters, written with all the frankness of private friendship, we
see the consistent and ever-watchful saint, but at the same time the
lively talker, the brilliant scholar, and, above all, the genial
companion and even merry comrade. Since he had left Cambridge Henry
Martyn had not enjoyed society like this, able to appreciate his
many-sided gifts, and to call forth his natural joyfulness. In Bombay
we see him at his best all round as man, scholar, saint, and
missionary.

In Sir T.E. Colebrooke's Life of that most eminent Indian statesman who
twice refused the crown of the Governor-General,[39] we find Mountstuart
Elphinstone writing thus to his friend Strachey: 'We have in Mr. Martyn
an excellent scholar, and one of the mildest, cheerfullest, and
pleasantest men I ever saw. He is extremely religious, and disputes
about the faith with the Nakhoda, but talks on all subjects, sacred and
profane, and makes others laugh as heartily as he could do if he were an
infidel. We have people who speak twenty-five languages (not apiece) in
the ship.' Again, in his Journal of July 10, 1811, Elphinstone has this
entry: 'Mr. Martyn has proved a far better companion than I reckoned on,
though my expectations were high. His zeal is unabated, but it is not
troublesome, and he does not press disputes and investigate creeds. He
is familiar with Greek and Latin, understands French and Italian, speaks
Persian and Arabic, has translated the Scriptures into Hindustani, and
is translating the Old Testament from Hebrew. He was an eminent
mathematician even at Cambridge, and, what is of more consequence, he is
a man of good sense and taste, and simple in his manners and character,
and cheerful in his conversation.' He who, in the close intimacy of
shipboard life in the tropics, could win that eulogy from a critic so
lofty and so experienced, must have been at once more human and more
perfect than his secret _Journal_, taken alone, has led its readers to
believe possible.

Sir John Malcolm, fresh from his second mission to Persia, was writing
his great _History of Persia_ in the quiet of Parell and Malabar Hill,
with the help of the invaluable criticism of Sir James Mackintosh,
whom he described to his brother Gilbert as 'a very extraordinary
man.' Malcolm introduced Mackintosh and Elphinstone to each other, and
Elphinstone lost not a day in taking Martyn to call on the Recorder.
Although the distinguished Scots Highlander, who had become the
admiring friend of Robert Hall when they were fellow students at
Aberdeen University, was in full sympathy with missionary enthusiasm,
and condemned the intolerance of the East India Company,[40] Martyn
and he did not at first 'cotton' to each other. The former wrote thus
of him:

    _1811, February 22._--Talked a good deal with the Governor about
    my intended journey.

    _February 23._--Went with him to his residence in the country,
    and at night met a large party, amongst whom were Sir J.
    Mackintosh and General Malcolm: with Sir James I had some
    conversation on different subjects; he was by no means equal to
    my expectations.

Mackintosh's account of their first interview was this:

    _February 24._ (Sunday.)--Elphinstone introduced me to a young
    clergyman called Martyn, come round from Bengal on his way to
    Bussora, partly for health and partly to improve his Arabic, as
    he is translating the Scriptures into that language. He seems to
    be a mild and benevolent enthusiast--a sort of character with
    which I am always half in love. We had the novelty of grace
    before and after dinner, all the company standing.

Again, a week after:

    _March 1._--Mr. Martyn, the saint from Calcutta, called here. He
    is a man of acuteness and learning; his meekness is excessive,
    and gives a disagreeable impression of effort to conceal the
    passions of human nature.

Both had the Celtic fire, but Sir James Mackintosh had not lived with
Sabat. Another month passed, and the two were learning to appreciate
each other.

    Padre Martyn, the saint, dined here in the evening; it was a
    very considerably more pleasant evening than usual; he is a mild
    and ingenious man. We had two or three hours' good discussion on
    grammar and metaphysics.

Henry Martyn's growing appreciation of Mackintosh is seen in this
later passage in his _Journal_:

    _1811, March 1._--Called on Sir J. Mackintosh, and found his
    conversation, as it is generally said to be, very instructive
    and entertaining. He thought that the world would be soon
    Europeanised, in order that the Gospel might spread over the
    world. He observed that caste was broken down in Egypt, and the
    Oriental world made Greek by the successors of Alexander, in
    order to make way for the religion of Christ. He thought that
    little was to be apprehended, and little hoped for, from the
    exertions of missionaries. Called at General Malcolm's, and
    though I did not find him at home, was very well rewarded for my
    trouble in getting to his house, by the company of Mr. ----,
    lately from R. Dined at Farish's with a party of some very
    amiable and well-behaved young men. What a remarkable difference
    between the old inhabitants of India and the new-comers. This is
    owing to the number of religious families in England.

    _March 4._--Dined at General Malcolm's, who gave me a Chaldee
    missal. Captain Stewart, who had accompanied him as his
    secretary into Persia, gave me much information about the
    learned men of Ispahan.

    _March 8._--Spent the first part of the day at General
    Malcolm's, who gave me letters of introduction and some queries
    respecting the wandering tribes of Persia.

The reference to young Mr. Farish, is to one who afterwards became
interim Governor of Bombay, and the friend of John Wilson, and who,
because he taught a class in the Sunday School that used to meet in
the Town Hall, was for the time an object of suspicion and attack by
the Parsees and Hindus, on the baptism of Dhanjibhai Naoroji, the
first Parsee to put on Christ.[41]

On Malcolm, according to Sir John Kaye, his biographer,[42] the young
Christian hero appears to have made a more favourable impression than
on Mackintosh. Perhaps the habitual cheerfulness of his manner
communicated itself to the 'saint from Calcutta,' of whom he wrote to
Sir Gore Ouseley, the British ambassador, that he was likely to add to
the hilarity of his party.

    He requested me to give him a line to the Governor of Bushire,
    which I did, as well as one to Mahomed Nebbee Khan. But I warned
    him not to move from Bushire without your previous sanction. His
    intention is, I believe, to go by Shiraz, Ispahan, and
    Kermanshah to Baghdad, and to endeavour on that route to
    discover some ancient copies of the Gospel, which he and many
    other saints are persuaded lie hid in the mountains of Persia.
    Mr. Martyn also expects to improve himself as an Oriental
    scholar; he is already an excellent one. His knowledge of Arabic
    is superior to that of any Englishman in India. He is altogether
    a very learned and cheerful man, but a great enthusiast in his
    holy calling. He has, however, assured me, and begged I would
    mention it to you, that he has no thought of preaching to the
    Persians, or of entering into any theological controversies, but
    means to confine himself to two objects--a research after old
    Gospels, and the endeavour to qualify himself for giving a
    correct version of the Scriptures into Arabic and Persian, on
    the plan proposed by the Bible Society.

    I have not hesitated to tell him that I thought you would
    require that he should act with great caution, and not allow his
    zeal to run away with him. He declares he will not, and he is a
    man of that character that I must believe. I am satisfied that
    if you ever see him, you will be pleased with him. He will give
    you grace before and after dinner, and admonish such of your
    party as take the Lord's name in vain; but his good sense and
    great learning will delight you, whilst his constant
    cheerfulness will add to the hilarity of your party.

In such social intercourse in the evening, in constant interviews and
discussions with Jews and Mohammedans, Parsees and Hindus, during the
day, and in frequent preaching for the chaplains, the weeks passed all
too rapidly. A ropemaker who had just arrived from London called on
him. 'He understood from my preaching that he might open his heart to
me. We conversed and prayed together.' Against this and the communion
with young Farish and his fellows, we must set the action of those
whom he thus describes in a letter to Corrie:

    _1811, February 26._--Peacefully preaching the Word of life to a
    people daily edified is the nearest approach to heaven below.
    But to move from place to place, hurried away without having
    time to do good, is vexatious to the spirit as well as harassing
    to the body. Hearing last Saturday that some sons of Belial,
    members of the Bapre Hunt,[43] intended to have a great race the
    following day, I informed Mr. Duncan, at whose house I was
    staying, and recommended the interference of the secular arm. He
    accordingly sent to forbid it. The messengers of the Bapre Hunt
    were exceedingly exasperated; some came to church expecting to
    hear a sermon against hunting, but I merely preached to them on
    'the one thing needful.' Finding nothing to lay hold of, they
    had the race on Monday, and ran _Hypocrite_ against _Martha_ and
    _Mary_.

His last message to India, from the 'faithful saying' of 1 Timothy i.
15, was misunderstood and resented, as his first sermon in Calcutta
had been in similar circumstances.

    _March 24._ (Sunday).--Speaking on the evidence of its truth, I
    mentioned its constant efficacy in collecting the multitude, and
    commanding their attention, which moral discourses never did.
    This was considered as a reflection on the ministers of Bombay,
    which distressed me not a little.

Henry Martyn was granted a passage to Arabia and Persia in the
Benares, Captain Sealey, one of the ships of the old Indian Navy,
ordered to cruise along with the Prince of Wales in the Persian Gulf.
At that time the danger was considerable. For a century the Joasmi
Arabs, of 'the pirate coast' of Oman, had been the terror of the
Persian Gulf and the Indian Ocean, driving off even the early
Portuguese, and confining the Persians, then invulnerable by land, to
their own shores. The Wahabee puritans of Islam having mastered them,
they added to their own bloodthirsty love of plunder and the
slave-trade the fanaticism of Mohammed-ibn-Abdul-Wahab, the 'bestower
of blessings,' as the name signifies. The East India Company tolerated
them, retaining two or three ships of war in the Gulf for the
protection of the factories at Gombroon, Bushire, and Busrah. But, in
an evil moment, in the year 1797, the Joasmi pirates dared to seize a
British vessel. From that hour their fate was sealed, though the
process of clearing the southern coast of Asia of pirates and slavers
ended only with the accession of Queen Victoria, in the year when Aden
was added to the empire. In 1809-10 the Bombay Government expedition,
under Commodore John Wainwright, captured their stronghold of
Ras-ul-Khymah, delivered our feudatory of Muscat from their terrorism,
and gave the Gulf peace for ten years. The two ships of war which
conveyed the chaplain missionary with his message of peace to Eastern
Arabia and Persia were sent to complete the work of the Wainwright
expedition,[44] which had been summoned by Lord Minto to the conquest
of Java. Henry Martyn acted as chaplain to the forty-five sailors and
twelve artillerymen who formed the European part of the crew of the
Benares. After two days at Muscat he tells the story of his voyage:

                         TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                             Muscat: April 22, 1811.

    My dearest Lydia,--I am now in Arabia Felix: to judge from the
    aspect of the country it has little pretensions to the name,
    unless burning barren rocks convey an idea of felicity; but
    perhaps as there is a promise in reserve for the sons of Joktan,
    their land may one day be blest indeed.

    We sailed from Bombay on Lady-day; and on the morning of Easter
    saw the land of Mekran in Persia. After another week's sail
    across the mouth of the Gulf, we arrived here, and expect to
    proceed up the Gulf to Bushire, as soon as we have taken in our
    water. You will be happy to learn that the murderous pirates
    against whom we were sent, having received notice of our
    approach, are all got out of the way, so that I am no longer
    liable to be shot in a battle, or to decapitation after it, if
    it be lawful to judge from appearances. These pestilent
    Ishmaelites indeed, whose hand is against every man's, will
    escape, and the community suffer, but that selfish friendship of
    which you once confessed yourself guilty, will think only of
    the preservation of a friend. This last marine excursion has
    been the pleasantest I ever made, as I have been able to pursue
    my studies with less interruption than when ashore. My little
    congregation of forty or fifty Europeans does not try my
    strength on Sundays; and my two companions are men who read
    their Bible every day. In addition to all these comforts, I have
    to bless God for having kept me more than usually free from the
    sorrowful mind. We must not always say with Watts, 'The sorrows
    of the mind be banished from the place;' but if freedom from
    trouble be offered us, we may choose it rather. I do not know
    anything more delightful than to meet with a Christian brother,
    where only strangers and foreigners were expected. This pleasure
    I enjoyed just before leaving Bombay; a ropemaker who had just
    come from England, understood from my sermon that I was one he
    might speak to, so he came and opened his heart, and we rejoiced
    together. In this ship I find another of the household of faith.
    In another ship which accompanies us there are two Armenians who
    do nothing but read the Testament. One of them will I hope
    accompany me to Shiraz in Persia, which is his native country.

    We are likely to be detained here some days, but the ship that
    will carry our letters to India sails immediately, so that I can
    send but one letter to England, and one to Calcutta. When will
    our correspondence be established? I have been trying to effect
    it these six years, and it is only yet in train. Why there was
    no letter from you in those dated June and July 1810, I cannot
    conjecture, except that you had not received any of mine, and
    would write no more. But I am not yet without hopes that a
    letter in the beloved hand will yet overtake me somewhere. My
    kindest and most affectionate remembrances to all the Western
    circle. Is it because he is your brother that I love George so
    much? or because he is the last come into the number? The
    angels love and wait upon the righteous who need no repentance;
    but there is joy whenever another heir of salvation is born into
    the family. Read Eph. i. I cannot wish you all these spiritual
    blessings, since they already are all yours; but I pray that we
    may have the spirit of wisdom and knowledge to know that they
    are ours. It is a chapter I keep in mind every day in prayer. We
    cannot believe too much or hope too much. Happy our eyes that
    they see, and our ears that they hear.

    As it may be a year or more before I shall be back, you may
    direct one letter after receiving this, if it be not of a very
    old date, to Bombay, all after to Bengal, as usual. Believe me
    to be ever, my dearest Lydia, your most affectionate,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

    _April 22._--Landed at Muscat with Lockett and walked through
    the bazaar; we wished to ascend one of the hills in the
    neighbourhood, but on the native guards expressing
    disapprobation, we desisted.

We turn to her _Diary_ for the corresponding passage.

    _1812, February 1._--Heard yesterday from,[45] and wrote to-day
    to, India. My conviction of being declining in spiritual life is
    deeper and deeper. I would stop and pause at what is before me.
    It is no particular outward sin, but an inward loss I mourn.

Every word of Henry Martyn's _Journal_ regarding Arabia is precious,
alike in the light of his attempt to give its people the Word of God
in their own tongue, and of the long delayed and too brief efforts of
his successors, Ion Keith-Falconer in Yemen in 1887, and Bishop French
in Muscat in 1891. To David Brown, all unknowing of his death, he
wrote on April 23:

    I left India on Lady-day, looked at Persia on Easter Sunday, and
    seven days after found myself in Arabia Felix. In a small cove,
    surrounded by bare rocks, heated through, out of the reach of
    air as well as wind, lies the good ship Benares, in the great
    cabin of which, stretched on a couch, lie I. But though weak I
    am well--relaxed but not disordered. Praise to His grace who
    fulfils to me a promise which I have scarcely a right to
    claim--'I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither
    thou goest.'

    Last night I went ashore for the first time with Captain
    Lockett; we walked through the bazaar and up the hill, but saw
    nothing but what was Indian or worse. The Imam or Sultan is
    about thirty miles off, fighting, it is said, for his kingdom,
    with the Wahabees.

    You will be happy to learn that the pirates whom we were to
    scourge are got out of our way, so that I may now hope to get
    safe through the Gulf without being made to witness the bloody
    scenes of war.

    _April 24._--Went with one English party and two Armenians and
    an Arab who served as guard and guide, to see a remarkable pass
    about a mile from the town, and a garden planted by a Hindu in a
    little valley beyond. There was nothing to see, only the little
    bit of green in this wilderness seemed to the Arab a great
    curiosity. I conversed a good deal with him, but particularly
    with his African slave, who was very intelligent about religion.
    The latter knew as much about his religion as most mountaineers,
    and withal was so interested, that he would not cease from his
    argument till I left the shore.

To Corrie he wrote on the same day:

    The Imam of Muscat murdered his uncle, and sits on the throne in
    the place of his elder brother, who is here a cipher. Last
    night the Captain went ashore to a council of state, to consider
    the relations subsisting between the Government of Bombay and
    these mighty chieftains. I attended as interpreter. The
    Company's agent is an old Hindu who could not get off his bed.
    An old man in whom pride and stupidity seemed to contend for
    empire sat opposite to him. This was the Wazeer. Between them
    sat I, opposite to me the Captain. The Wazeer uttered something
    in Arabic, not one word of which could I understand. The old
    Hindu explained in Persian, for he has almost forgot his Hindi,
    and I to the Captain in English. We are all impatient to get
    away from this place.

To the last he was busy with his Arabic translation of Scripture. The
ships of war crossed and recrossed the Gulf from shore to shore,
surveying its coasts and islands in the heat of May, tempered by a
north-wester which tossed them about. On May 6 he wrote in his
_Journal_:

    Much cast down through a sinful propensity, which I little
    thought was in me at all, till occasion manifested its
    existence.

On the 19th:

    Preached to the ship's company on John iii. 3. My thoughts so
    much on Lydia, whose old letter I had been reading the day
    before, that I had a sense of guilt for having neglected the
    proper duties of the day.

    _May 20._--We have now a fair wind, carrying us gently to
    Bushire.

    _May 22._--Finished the syllabus of Ecclesiastical History which
    I have been making all the voyage, and extracts from Mosheim
    concerning the Eastern Church.

On May 21, 1811, Henry Martyn at last reached Persian soil.

    Landed at Bushire this morning in good health; how unceasing are
    the mercies of the Lord; blessed be His goodness; may He still
    preserve me from danger, and, above all, make my journey a
    source of future good to this kingdom of Persia, into which I am
    now come. We were hospitably received by the acting Resident. In
    the evening I walked out by the sea-side to recollect myself, to
    review the past, and look forward to the future.

    Suffering the will of God is as necessary a part of spiritual
    discipline as doing, and much more trying.

But he landed still with the desire 'to go to Arabia circuitously by
way of Persia,' a course which he declared to be rendered necessary by
the advanced state of the season. The people of Arabia were first in
his heart.

FOOTNOTES:

[39] In two volumes (John Murray), 1884, see p. 231, vol. i.

[40] _Memoirs_, edited by his son, second edition, London (Moxon),
1836. See vol. ii. pp. 86, 268.

[41] _The Life of John Wilson, D.D., F.R.S._ (John Murray), 2nd edit.,
p. 137.

[42] _Life and Correspondence_, vol. ii. p. 65 (Smith, Elder & Co.),
1856.

[43] _Bap·re_ = 'O Father!' the exclamation of Hindus when in surprise
or grief; hence a noise or row; hence a Bobbery-pack or hunt is the
Anglo-Indian for a pack of hounds of different breeds, or no breed,
wherewith young officers hunt jackals or the like. See the late
Colonel Sir Henry Yule's _Hobson-Jobson, or Anglo-Indian Glossary_
(John Murray), 1886.

[44] C.R. Low's _History of the Indian Navy_, chapter x. vol. i.
(Richard Bentley), 1877.

[45] By letter written April 22 or June 23, 1811.



CHAPTER IX

IN PERSIA--BUSHIRE AND SHIRAZ, 1811


The Persia to whose seven millions of people Henry Martyn was the
first in modern times to carry the good-news of God, was just the size
of the India of his day. The Mohammedan majority of its scattered
inhabitants, in cities, in villages, and wandering over its plains and
deserts, had never been, and are not yet, as Shi'ahs, rigid members of
Islam, fanatically aggressive against all others, like the orthodox
Soonnis. After the apparent extinction of the cult of Zoroaster and
the flight of the surviving remnant of Parsees to India, the
successive ruling dynasties were liberal and tolerant in their
treatment of Christians compared with other Moslem powers; more
liberal than Christian Russia is to the Jews and the non-'orthodox'
sects. When those cultured and enterprising brothers, Sir Anthony and
Sir Thomas Sherley,[46] went from Oxford to the court of Persia, then
in all its magnificence under Shah Abbas the Great, two centuries
before Henry Martyn, that Shah sent one back as Persian envoy to the
Christian powers of Europe, to establish an alliance for the
destruction of the Turks. Shah Abbas made over Gombroon to them,
calling it by his own name, Bunder Abbas, which it still retains, and
his Majesty's grant used such language as this: 'Our absolute
commandment, will, and pleasure is that our countries and dominions
shall be from this day open to all Christian people _and to their
religion_.... Because of the amitie now ioyned with the princes that
professe Christ, I do give this pattent for all Christian merchants,'
etc. Only the intolerance of the Portuguese, who, under Albuquerque,
took the island of Ormuz, and so dominated the Persian Gulf till
driven out by the English, led this great Asiatic monarch to except
the power which Prince Henry the Navigator alone redeems from
historical contempt to the present day.

The Suffavian dynasty gave place to the Afghan, and that to the
short-lived but wide-spreading empire of Nadir Kooli Khan, from Delhi
to the Oxus River and the Caspian Sea. Out of half a century's bloody
revolutions, such as formed the normal course of the annals of Asia
till Great Britain pushed its 'Peace' up from the Southern Ocean, Aga
Mohammed Khan, of the Kajar clan, founded the present dynasty in 1795.
His still greater nephew succeeded on his death three years after.
Futteh Ali Shah became for the next thirty-eight years the close
friend of the British Crown and the East India Company. Shah-in-Shah,
or king of the four kings of Afghanistan, Georgia, Koordistan, and
Arabistan, the ruler of Persia had now incorporated Arabistan in his
own dominion, and had lost Afghanistan. But he still claimed the
allegiance of the two subject-sovereigns of Georgia and Koordistan.
His uncle had avenged on the people, and especially the beautiful
women of Georgia, the transfer of the country by its Wali to the
Russian Catherine II. Placed in the commanding centre of Western Asia,
Futteh Ali almost immediately found himself the object of eager
competition by the representatives of the Christian powers at Teheran.
His revenue was estimated by so competent an authority as Sir John
Malcolm at nearly six millions sterling. The crown jewels, chief of
them the Sea of Light, or Derya-i-Noor, a diamond weighing 178 carats,
were then the most valuable collection in the world; for though the
Koh-i-Noor had remained with the Afghans, whence through the Sikhs it
came to a greater Shah-in-Shah, the Queen-Empress of Great Britain, he
still possessed not a little of Nadir's plunder of Delhi.

Sir Robert Ker Porter describes him about the time when Martyn reached
his capital, as 'one blaze of jewels,' at the New Year festival of
Norooz. On his head was a lofty tiara of three elevations, 'entirely
composed of thickly-set diamonds, pearls, rubies, and emeralds, so
exquisitely disposed as to form a mixture of the most beautiful
colours in the brilliant light reflected from its surface. Several
black feathers, like the heron plume, were intermixed with the
resplendent aigrettes of this truly imperial diadem, whose bending
points were furnished with pear-formed pearls of an immense size. The
vesture was of gold tissue nearly covered with a similar disposition
of jewelry; and crossing the shoulders were two strings of pearls,
probably the largest in the world. But for splendour nothing could
exceed the broad bracelets round his arms and the belt which encircled
his waist; they actually blazed like fire when the rays of the sun met
them. The throne was of pure white marble raised a few steps from the
ground, and carpeted with shawls and cloth of gold. While the Great
King was approaching his throne, the whole assembly continued bowing
their heads to the ground till he had taken his place. In the midst
of solemn stillness, while all eyes were fixed on the bright object
before them, which sat indeed as radiant and immovable as the image of
Mithras itself, a sort of volley of words bursting at one impulse from
the mouths of the mollahs and astrologers, made me start, and
interrupted my gaze. This strange oratory was a kind of heraldic
enumeration of the Great King's titles, dominions, and glorious acts.
There was a pause, and then his Majesty spoke. The effect was even
more startling than the sudden bursting forth of the mollahs; for this
was like a voice from the tombs--so deep, so hollow, and, at the same
time, so penetratingly loud.'[47]

That was the man to whose feet the French Emperor Napoleon and the
Tsar Alexander, King George III. and the greatest Governor-General of
the East India Company, the Marquess Wellesley, sent special
embassies; the man from whom they sought secret treaties, lavishing on
his courtiers more than royal gifts. To arrest the march of the Afghan
invader, who a few years before had reached Lahore on his way to set
up again at Delhi the house of Timour, and in order to foil the secret
embassy sent by Napoleon, who had resolved to give England its
death-blow through India, a young Scotsman, Captain Malcolm, was deputed
to Teheran in 1801, following up a native envoy who had been most
successful just before. This soldier diplomatist, who was afterwards to
help Henry Martyn to a very different success, 'bribed like a king,' and
returned with two treaties, political and commercial, but still more
with the knowledge which fitted him to write his classic history, and
make his second ambassage. For England failed to carry out the first so
far as to help the Shah against Russia, and from that hour Persia has
seen province after province overwhelmed by the wave from the north.

Taking alarm a second time, just before and after the Peace of Tilsit,
both the Crown and the Company appointed plenipotentiaries to Teheran.
It was Lord Minto's wise policy to protect our Indian empire 'by
binding the Western Frontier States in a chain of friendly alliance.'
Hence the Governor-General's four missions, to Sindh, to Lahore, to
Cabul, and again to Persia under Sir John Malcolm. Sir Harford Jones
appeared as ambassador from the Crown after Malcolm had left Teheran,
and took advantage of a change in the political situation to secure
the preliminary treaty of 1809, which renewed the pledge of its
predecessor to assist the Shah with troops or a subsidy if any
European forces should invade his territories. In a modified form this
became the definitive treaty of March 14, 1812 (further altered in
that of 1814), to arrange which Sir Gore Ouseley was sent out,
superseding both Malcolm and Jones.[48] Sir Gore Ouseley became Henry
Martyn's friend. Commended by Sir John Malcolm to his personal friends
among the Persians, and officially encouraged by the British
plenipotentiary, the Bengal chaplain seeking health had all the
facilities secured to him that were possible to pursue the God-given
mission of the apostle of Christ to the peoples of Persia and Arabia.

The strong and wise rule of Futteh Ali Shah kept Persia itself at
peace, but he could not get the better of Russian intrigue and attack,
even with the friendly offices of the British Government. Up till
Martyn's arrival these vast regions had been wrested from the
Shah-in-Shah: Georgia, Mingrelia, Daghistan, Sherwan, Karabagh, and
Talish. During his presence in the country the negotiations with
Russia were going on, which ended in 1813 in the Treaty of Gulistan,
surrendering to the Tsar all he had taken, and apparently stopping his
advance by a line of demarcation. But as its exact direction had to be
settled by commissioners Russia has ever since continued steadily to
strip Persia of its northern lands, and only the presence of the
British Navy has kept it as yet out of the Persian Gulf.[49]

Such were the historical and political conditions amid which the
missionary chaplain of India became a resident in the cities, and a
traveller through the villages of Persia and Turkey at the age of
thirty. He went there as the friend of Malcolm Sahib, whose gracious
dignity and lavish gifts had made him a hero among the officials and
many of the people of Persia. He went with letters of introduction
from the Governor-General of India and the Governor of Bombay to the
new British ambassador, who had lived at Lucknow, and must have known
well of his work in the neighbouring station of Cawnpore. He went with
the reputation of a man of God in the Oriental sense, and of a scholar
who knew the sacred books of Mohammedans and Christians alike, and who
sought the good of the people. The Armenian colonies at Calcutta and
Bombay had commended him to the many members of their Church in
Persia.

Bushire, or Abu Shahr, at which he began his mission to Persia, is the
port of that province of Fars from which the whole empire takes its
name. Its mixed Persian and Arab population, now numbering some
fifteen thousand, its insanitary position on a spit of sand almost
surrounded by the sea, and the filthy narrow streets hardly redeemed
by the Char Burj or citadel, and the British Residency, do not attract
the visitor, and he soon learns that the humid heat of its climate in
summer is more insupportable than that even of the Red Sea. From
Reshire, close by, in the Anglo-Persian War of 1856-7, General Havelock
shelled the town when he pitched the camp of the force to the south of
its gate. Henry Martyn was there in the worst season of May and June,
when the thermometer rises to 100° in the shade, and sometimes 106°. He
became the guest of an English merchant and his Armenian wife, and was
received by the Armenians as a priest of great sanctity. His _Journal_
describes his receptions and daily occupations.

    _1811, May 23._--Rode out with a party in the evening, or rather
    in the afternoon, for the heat of the sun made me ill.

    _May 24._--The Governor called on us; also the Armenian priest.
    Received an answer from the ambassador, Sir Gore Ouseley, to a
    letter I sent him from Muscat.

    _May 25._--In the evening called with the two Captains, the
    Resident, and the Captain of his guard, on the Governor. In
    consequence of a letter I brought for him from General Malcolm,
    he was very particular in his attentions, seated me on his own
    seat, and then sat by my side apart from the rest. I observed
    that a Christian was not allowed to enter a mosque; he said,
    'No,--do you wish to hear the prayers?' I said, 'No, but the
    preaching, if there is any;' he said there were no preachers
    except at Yezd.

    _May 26._ (Sunday.)--The Europeans assembled for Divine service,
    which was performed at the Resident's. I preached on 1 Cor. xv.:
    'For He must reign till He hath put all enemies under His feet,'
    etc. In the evening I went, at the padre's request, to the
    Armenian church. There was the same disagreeable succession of
    unmeaning ceremonies and noisy chants as at Bombay. I was
    introduced within the rails, and at the time of incense I was
    censed, as the padre afterwards desired me to observe, four
    times, whereas the laity have the honour done them but once. I
    asked the old man what was meant by burning incense. He said it
    was in imitation of the Wise Men of the East, who offered
    incense to Christ. I told him, Why then do you not offer myrrh
    and gold? To this he made no reply. Walking afterwards with him
    by the sea-side, I tried to get into a conversation suitable to
    our profession as ministers, speaking particularly of the
    importance of the charge entrusted to us. Nothing could be more
    vapid and mean than his remarks.

    _May 27._--Very ill, from head-ache and overpowering sleepiness,
    arising, as I suppose, from a stroke of the sun. As often as I
    attempted to read, I fell asleep, and awoke in weakness and
    pain. How easily may existence be embittered; still I will say,
    'Not my will, but Thine be done.' In the evening a Jewish
    goldsmith called with a fine boy, who read the Hebrew fluently.
    Grief has marked the countenance of the Eastern Jews in a way
    that makes them indescribably interesting. I could have wept
    while looking at them. O Lord, how long? Will Thine anger burn
    for ever?--is not justice yet satisfied? This afflicted people
    are as much oppressed in Persia as ever. Their women are not
    allowed to veil, as all others are required to do; hence, if
    there be one more than ordinarily beautiful, she is soon known,
    and a khan or the king sends for her, makes her a Mahometan, and
    puts her into the harem. As soon as he is tired, she is given to
    another, and then to another, till she becomes the property of
    the most menial servant; such is the degradation to which the
    daughters of Israel are subjected.

    _May 28._--Through the infinite and unmerited goodness of God I
    am again restored, and able to do something in the way of
    reading. The Resident gave us some account this evening of the
    moral state of Persia. It is enough to make one shudder. If God
    rained down fire upon Sodom and Gomorrah, how is it that this
    nation is not blotted out from under heaven? I do not remember
    to have heard such things of the Hindus, except the Sikhs; they
    seem to rival the Mahometans.

For personal comfort and freedom from insult or attack, Henry Martyn,
when in Bushire, ordered the usual wardrobe of a Persian gentleman. He
had suffered his beard and moustachios to vegetate undisturbed since
leaving India, as he wrote to Corrie. In conical Astrakhan cap, baggy
blue trousers, red boots, and light chintz tunic and _chogha_ or
flowing coat, mounted on a riding pony, and followed by his Armenian
servant on a mule, with another mule for his baggage, he set out on
May 30, 1811, for Shiraz. His companion was a British officer. The
party formed a large caravan with some thirty horses and mules,
carrying goods to the ambassador. They marched by night, in the
comparative coolness of 100°, to which the thermometer fell from the
noonday heat of 126°, when they lay panting in their tents protected
from the scorching dry wind by heavy clothing. The journey of some 170
miles occupied the first nine days of June. After ninety miles over a
hot sandy plain the traveller rises, by four rocky _kotuls_ or
inclines, so steep as to be called ladders, over the spurs of the
Zagros range into a cooler region at Kaziroon, on the central plateau
of Iran, and then passes through the most delightful valleys, wooded
or clad with verdure, to the capital, Shiraz, surrounded by gardens
and by cemeteries.

    _May 30._--Our Persian dresses being ready, we set off this
    evening for Shiraz. Our kafila consisted of about thirty horses
    and mules; some carrying things to the ambassador, the rest for
    our servants and luggage; the animal for my use was a yaboo or
    riding pony, a mule for my trunks, and one for my servant
    Zechariah, an Armenian of Ispahan. It was a fine moonlight
    night, about ten o'clock, when we marched out of the gate of
    Bushire, and began to make our way over the plain. Mr. B., who
    accompanied me a little way, soon returned. Captain T. went on,
    intending to accompany us to Shiraz. This was the first time we
    had any of us put off the European, and the novelty of our
    situation supplied us with many subjects for conversation for
    about two hours. When we began to flag and grow sleepy, and the
    kafila was pretty quiet, one of the muleteers on foot began to
    sing: he sang with a voice so plaintive that it was impossible
    not to have one's attention arrested. At the end of the first
    tune he paused, and nothing was heard but the tinkling of the
    bells attached to the necks of the mules; every voice was
    hushed. The first line was enough for me, and I dare say it set
    many others thinking of their absent friends. 'Without thee my
    heart can attach itself to none.' It is what I have often felt
    on setting out on a journey. The friends left behind so absorb
    the thoughts, that the things by the wayside are seen without
    interest, and the conversation of strangers is insipid. But
    perhaps the first line, as well as the rest, is only a promise
    of fidelity, though I did not take it in that sense when I first
    heard it. The following is perhaps the true translation:

        Think not that e'er my heart can dwell
          Contented far from thee;
        How can the fresh-caught nightingale
          Enjoy tranquillity?

        Forsake not then thy friend for aught
          That slanderous tongues can say;
        The heart that fixes where it ought,
          No power can rend away.

    Thus we went on, and as often as the kafila by their dulness and
    sleepiness seemed to require it, or perhaps to keep himself
    awake, he entertained the company and himself with a song. We
    met two or three other kafilas taking advantage of the night to
    get on. My loquacious servant Zachary took care to ask every one
    whence they came, and by that means sometimes got an answer
    which raised a laugh against him.

    _June 1._--At sunrise we came to our ground at Ahmeda, six
    parasangs, and pitched our little tent under a tree: it was the
    only shelter we could get. At first the heat was not greater
    than we had felt it in India, but it soon became so intense as
    to be quite alarming. When the thermometer was above 112°, fever
    heat, I began to lose my strength fast; at last it became quite
    intolerable. I wrapped myself up in a blanket and all the warm
    covering I could get, to defend myself from the external air; by
    which means the moisture was kept a little longer upon the body,
    and not so speedily evaporated as when the skin was exposed;
    one of my companions followed my example, and found the benefit
    of it. But the thermometer still rising, and the moisture of the
    body being quite exhausted, I grew restless, and thought I
    should have lost my senses. The thermometer at last stood at
    126°: in this state I composed myself, and concluded that though
    I might hold out a day or two, death was inevitable. Captain T.,
    who sat it out, continued to tell the hour, and height of the
    thermometer; and with what pleasure did we hear of its sinking
    to 120°, 118°, etc. At last the fierce sun retired, and I crept
    out, more dead than alive. It was then a difficulty how I could
    proceed on my journey: for besides the immediate effects of the
    heat, I had no opportunity of making up for the last night's
    want of sleep, and had eaten nothing. However, while they were
    loading the mules, I got an hour's sleep, and set out, the
    muleteers leading my horse, and Zechariah, my servant, an
    Armenian, of Ispahan, doing all in his power to encourage me.
    The cool air of the night restored me wonderfully, so that I
    arrived at our next _munzil_ with no other derangement than that
    occasioned by want of sleep. Expecting another such day as the
    former, we began to make preparation the instant we arrived on
    the ground. I got a tattie made of the branches of the
    date-tree, and a Persian peasant to water it; by this means the
    thermometer did not rise higher than 114°. But what completely
    secured me from the heat was a large wet towel, which I wrapped
    round my head and body, muffling up the lower part in clothes.
    How could I but be grateful to a gracious Providence, for giving
    me so simple a defence against what I am persuaded would have
    destroyed my life that day! We took care not to go without
    nourishment, as we had done: the neighbouring village supplied
    us with curds and milk. At sunset, rising up to go out, a
    scorpion fell upon my clothes; not seeing where it fell, I did
    not know what it was; but Captain T., pointing it out, gave the
    alarm, and I struck it off, and he killed it. The night before
    we found a black scorpion in our tent; this made us rather
    uneasy; so that though the kafila did not start till midnight,
    we got no sleep, fearing we might be visited by another
    scorpion.

    _June 2._--We arrived at the foot of the mountains, at a place
    where we seemed to have discovered one of Nature's ulcers. A
    strong suffocating smell of naphtha announced something more
    than ordinarily foul in the neighbourhood. We saw a river:--what
    flowed in it, it seemed difficult to say, whether it were water
    or green oil; it scarcely moved, and the stones which it laved
    it left of a greyish colour, as if its foul touch had given them
    the leprosy. Our place of encampment this day was a grove of
    date-trees, where the atmosphere, at sunrise, was ten times
    hotter than the ambient air. I threw myself down on the burning
    ground, and slept; when the tent came up I awoke, as usual, in a
    burning fever. All this day I had recourse to the wet towel,
    which kept me alive, but would allow of no sleep. It was a
    sorrowful Sabbath; but Captain T. read a few hymns, in which I
    found great consolation. At nine in the evening we decamped. The
    ground and air were so insufferably hot, that I could not travel
    without a wet towel round my face and neck. This night, for the
    first time, we began to ascend the mountains. The road often
    passed so close to the edge of the tremendous precipices, that
    one false step of the horse would have plunged his rider into
    inevitable destruction. In such circumstances I found it useless
    to attempt guiding the animal, and therefore gave him the rein.
    These poor animals are so used to journeys of this sort, that
    they generally step sure. There was nothing to mark the road but
    the rocks being a little more worn in one place than in another.
    Sometimes my horse, which led the way, as being the muleteer's,
    stopped, as if to consider about the way: for myself, I could
    not guess, at such times, where the road lay, but he always
    found it. The sublime scenery would have impressed me much, in
    other circumstances; but my sleepiness and fatigue rendered me
    insensible to everything around me. At last we emerged _superas
    ad auras_, not on the top of a mountain to go down again, but to
    a plain, or upper world. At the pass, where a cleft in the
    mountain admitted us into the plain, was a station of Rahdars.
    While they were examining the muleteer's passports, etc., time
    was given for the rest of the kafila to come up, and I got a
    little sleep for a few minutes.

    _June 4._--We rode briskly over the plain, breathing a purer
    air, and soon came in sight of a fair edifice, built by the king
    of the country for the refreshment of pilgrims. In this
    caravanserai we took our abode for the day. It was more
    calculated for Eastern than European travellers, having no means
    of keeping out the air and light. We found the thermometer at
    110°. At the passes we met a man travelling down to Bushire with
    a load of ice, which he willingly disposed of to us. The next
    night we ascended another range of mountains, and passed over a
    plain, where the cold was so piercing that with all the clothes
    we could muster we were shivering. At the end of this plain we
    entered a dark valley, contained by two ranges of hills
    converging one to another. The muleteer gave notice that he saw
    robbers. It proved to be a false alarm; but the place was fitted
    to be a retreat for robbers; there being on each side caves and
    fastnesses from which they might have killed every man of us.
    After ascending another mountain, we descended by a very long
    and circuitous route into an extensive valley, where we were
    exposed to the sun till eight o'clock. Whether from the sun or
    from continued want of sleep, I could not, on my arrival at
    Kaziroon, compose myself to sleep; there seemed to be a fire
    within my head, my skin like a cinder, and the pulse violent.
    Through the day it was again too hot to sleep; though the place
    we occupied was a sort of summer-house in a garden of
    cypress-trees, exceedingly well fitted up with mats and coloured
    glass. Had the kafila gone on that night, I could not have
    accompanied it; but it halted there a day, by which means I got
    a sort of night's rest, though I awoke twenty times to dip my
    burning hand in water. Though Kaziroon is the second greatest
    town in Fars, we could get nothing but bread, milk, and eggs,
    and those with difficulty. The Governor, who is under great
    obligations to the English, heard of our arrival, but sent no
    message.

    _June 5._--At ten we left Kaziroon and ascended a mountain: we
    then descended from it on the other side into a beautiful
    valley, where the opening dawn discovered to us ripe fields of
    wheat and barley, with the green oak here and there in the midst
    of it. We were reminded of an autumnal morning in England.
    Thermometer 62°.

    _June 6._--Half-way up the Peergan Mountain we found a
    caravanserai. There being no village in the neighbourhood, we
    had brought supplies from Kaziroon. My servant Zachary got a
    fall from his mule this morning, which much bruised him; he
    looked very sorrowful, and had lost much of his garrulity.

    _June 7._--Left the caravanserai at one this morning, and
    continued to ascend. The hours we were permitted to rest, the
    mosquitoes had effectually prevented me from using, so that I
    never felt more miserable and disordered; the cold was very
    severe; for fear of falling off, from sleep and numbness, I
    walked a good part of the way. We pitched our tent in the vale
    of Dustarjan, near a crystal stream, on the banks of which we
    observed the clover and golden cup: the whole valley was one
    green field, in which large herds of cattle were browsing. The
    temperature was about that of spring in England. Here a few
    hours' sleep recovered me in some degree from the stupidity in
    which I had been for some days. I awoke with a light heart, and
    said: 'He knoweth our frame, and remembereth that we are but
    dust. He redeemeth our life from destruction, and crowneth us
    with loving kindness and tender mercies. He maketh us to lie
    down in the green pastures, and leadeth us beside the still
    waters.' And when we leave this vale of tears, there is 'no more
    sorrow, nor sighing, nor any more pain.' 'The sun shall not
    light upon thee, nor any heat; but the Lamb shall lead thee to
    living fountains of waters.'

    _June 8._--Went on to a caravanserai, three parasangs, where we
    passed the day. At night set out upon our last march for Shiraz.
    Sleepiness, my old companion and enemy, again overtook me. I was
    in perpetual danger of falling off my horse, till at last I
    pushed on to a considerable distance beyond the kafila, planted
    my back against a wall, and slept I know not how long, till the
    good muleteer came up and gently waked me.

    _June 9._ (Sunday.)--By daylight we found ourselves in the plain
    of Shiraz. We went to the halting-place outside the walls of the
    city, but found it occupied; however, after some further delay,
    we were admitted with our servants into another; as for the
    kafila, we saw no more of it. The ambassador, Sir Gore Ouseley,
    was encamped near us; Sir William and Major D'Arcy, and Dr.
    Sharp, called on us, but I did not see the two first, being
    asleep at the time. In the evening we dined with his excellency,
    who gave us a general invitation to his table. Returned to our
    garden, where we slept.

    _June 10._--Went this morning to Jaffir Ali Khan's, to whom we
    had letters from General Malcolm, and with whom we are to take
    up our abode. After the long and tedious ceremony of coffee and
    _kaleans_ (pipes), breakfast made its appearance on two large
    trays: curry, pilaws, various sweets cooled with snow and
    perfumed with rose-water, were served in great profusion in
    china plates and basins, a few wooden spoons beautifully carved;
    but being in a Persian dress, and on the ground, I thought it
    high time to throw off the European, and so ate with my hands.
    After breakfast Jaffir took me to a summer-house in his garden,
    where his brother-in-law met us, for the purpose of a
    conversazione. From something I had thrown out at breakfast
    about Sabat, and accident, he was curious to know what were our
    opinions on these subjects. He then began to explain his own
    sentiments on Soofi-ism, of which it appeared he was a
    passionate admirer.

    _June 11._--Breakfasted at Anius with some of the Embassy, and
    went with them afterwards to a glass-house and pottery.
    Afterwards called on Mr. Morier, secretary to the Embassy, Major
    D'Arcy, and Sir W. Ouseley. Our host, Jaffir Ali Khan, gave us a
    good deal of information this evening, about this country and
    government. He used to sit for hours with the king at Teheran
    telling him about India and the English.

    _June 12._--Employed about _Journal_, writing letters, reading
    _Gulistan_, but excessively indolent. In the morning I enjoyed
    much comfort in prayer. What a privilege to have a God to go to,
    in such a place, and in such company. To read and pray at
    leisure seemed like coming home after being long abroad. Psalm
    lxxxix. was a rich repast to me. Why is it not always thus with
    me?

At Shiraz Henry Martyn was in the very heart of old Persia, to which
the eldest son of Shem had given his name, Elam. One of the greatest
of the Shahs, Kareem Khan, made Shiraz his capital, instead of the not
distant Persepolis, which also Martyn visited. The founder of the
present dynasty levelled its walls and desolated its gardens, but the
city of the six gates still dominates the fine valley which no tyrant
could destroy, and has still a pleasing appearance, though its Dewan
Khana has been stripped of the royal pillars to adorn the palace of
the new capital of Teheran. Even Timour respected Shiraz; when red
with the blood of Ispahan, he sent for Hafiz, and asked how the poet
dared to dispose of the Tartar's richest cities, Bokhara and
Samarcand, for the mole on his lady's cheek. 'Can the gifts of Hafiz
ever impoverish Timour?' was the answer; and Shiraz was spared. Kareem
Khan long after built mausoleums over the dust of the Anacreon of
Persia, and over that of Sadi, its Socrates in verse, as Sir Robert
Ker Porter well describes the author of the _Gulistan_, which was
Martyn's daily companion at this time.

[Illustration: SHIRAZ]

We have an account of Shiraz[50] and the people of Persia, written six
years before Martyn's visit, by Edward Scott Waring, Esq., of the
Bengal Civil Establishment, who, led by ill-health and curiosity,
followed the same route by Bushire and Kaziroon to the city. He is
sceptical as to those splendours which formed the theme of Hafiz, and
describes the city as 'worth seeing, but not worth going to see.' The
tomb of the poet[51] the Hafizieh garden he found to be of white
marble, on which two of his odes were very beautifully cut; a few
durweshes daily visited the spot and chanted his verses. Mr. George N.
Curzon, M.P.,[52] the latest visitor, contrasts the grave of Hafiz
with that of his contemporary Dante, at Ravenna. Sadi's grave was then
quite neglected; no one had carved on it the beautiful epitaph
(paraphrased by Dryden) which he wrote for himself on the _Bostan_: 'O
passenger! who walkest over my grave, think of the virtuous persons
who have gone before me. What has Sadi to apprehend from being turned
into dust? he was but earth when alive. He will not continue dust
long, for the winds will scatter him over the whole universe.' Yet as
long as the garden of knowledge has blossomed not a nightingale has
warbled so sweetly in it. It would be strange if such a nightingale
should die, and not a rose grow upon its grave. Sir Robert Ker Porter,
twelve years later, found both spots alike neglected. One poet had
written of the garden where Hafiz was buried, 'Paradise does not
boast such lovely banks as those of Rocknabeel, nor such groves as the
high-scented fragrance of the bowers of Mosella.' Another now sadly
writes, 'Though the bowers of love grew on its banks, and the sweet
song of Hafiz kept time with the nightingale and the rose, the summer
is past and all things are changed.'

Six years after Henry Martyn's residence in Shiraz, Sir Robert Ker
Porter entered the city, which to him, as to every Christian or even
English-speaking man, became thenceforth more identified with this
century's apostle to the Persians than with even Hafiz and Sadi.
'Faint with sickness and fatigue,' he writes,[53] 'I felt a momentary
reviving pleasure in the sight of a hospitable city, and the cheerful
beauty of the view. As I drew near, the image of my exemplary
countryman, Henry Martyn, rose in my thoughts, seeming to sanctify the
shelter to which I was hastening. He had approached Shiraz much about
the same season of the year, A.D. 1811, and like myself was gasping
for life under the double pressure of an inward fire and outward
burning sun. He dwelt there nearly a year, and on leaving its walls
the apostle of Christianity found no cause for shaking off the dust of
his feet against the Mohammedan city. The inhabitants had received,
cherished and listened to him; and he departed thence amidst the
blessings and tears of many a Persian friend. Through his means the
Gospel had then found its way into Persia, and, as it appears to have
been sown in kindly hearts, the gradual effect hereafter may be like
the harvest to the seedling. But, whatever be the issue, the
liberality with which his doctrines were permitted to have been
discussed, and the hospitality with which their promulgation was
received by the learned, the nobles, and persons of all ranks, cannot
but reflect lasting honour on the Government, and command our respect
for the people at large. Besides, to a person who thinks at all on
these subjects, the circumstances of the first correct Persian
translation of the Holy Scriptures being made at Shiraz, and thence
put into the royal hands and disseminated through the empire, cannot
but give an almost prophetic emphasis to the transaction, as arising
from the very native country, Persia Proper, of the founder of the
empire who first bade the temple of Jerusalem be rebuilt, who returned
her sons from captivity, and who was called by name to the Divine
commission.'

As the guest of Jaffir Ali Khan, now in his house in Shiraz, and now
in his orange summer garden, Henry Martyn gave himself up to the two
absorbing duties of making a new translation of the New Testament into
Persian, assisted by his host's brother-in-law, Mirza Seyd Ali Khan,
and of receiving and, in the Pauline sense, disputing with the learned
Mohammedans of the city and neighbourhood. But all through his inner
life, sanctified by his spiritual experience and intensifying that,
there continued to run the love of Lydia Grenfell.

                         TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                              Shiraz: June 23, 1811.

    How continually I think of you, and indeed converse with you, it
    is impossible to say. But on the Lord's day in particular, I
    find you much in my thoughts, because it is on that day that I
    look abroad, and take a view of the universal church, of which I
    observe that the saints in England form the most conspicuous
    part. On that day, too, I indulge myself with a view of the
    past, and look over again those happy days, when, in company
    with those I loved, I went up to the house of God with a voice
    of praise. How then should I fail to remember her who, of all
    that are dear to me, is the dearest? It is true that I cannot
    look back upon many days, nor even many hours passed with
    you--would they had been more--but we have insensibly become
    more acquainted with each other, so that, on my part at least,
    it may be said that separation has brought us nearer to one
    another. It was a momentary interview, but the love is lasting,
    everlasting. Whether we ever meet again or not, I am sure that
    you will continue to feel an interest in all that befalls me.

    After the death of my dear sister, you bid me consider that I
    had one sister left while you remained; and you cannot imagine
    how consolatory to my mind this assurance is. To know that there
    is one who is willing to think of me, and has leisure to do so,
    is soothing to a degree that none can know but those who have,
    like me, lost all their relations.

    I sent you a letter from Muscat, in Arabia, which I hope you
    received; for if not, report will again erase my name from the
    catalogue of the living, as I sent no other to Europe. Let me
    here say with praise to our ever-gracious Heavenly Father, that
    I am in perfect health; of my spirits I cannot say much; I fancy
    they would be better were 'the beloved Persis' by my side. This
    name, which I once gave you, occurs to me at this moment, I
    suppose, because I am in Persia, entrenched in one of its
    valleys, separated from Indian friends by chains of mountains
    and a roaring sea, among a people depraved beyond all belief, in
    the power of a tyrant guilty of every species of atrocity.
    Imagine a pale person seated on a Persian carpet, in a room
    without table or chair, with a pair of formidable moustachios,
    and habited as a Persian, and you see me.

    _June 26._--Here I expect to remain six months. The reason is
    this: I found on my arrival here, that our attempts at Persian
    translation in India were good for nothing; at the same time
    they proposed, with my assistance, to make a new translation. It
    was an offer I could not refuse, as they speak the purest
    dialect of the Persian. My host is a man of rank, his name
    Jaffir Ali Khan, who tries to make the period of my captivity as
    agreeable as possible. His wife--for he has but one--never
    appears; parties of young ladies come to see her, but though
    they stay days in the house, he dare not go into the room where
    they are. Without intending a compliment to your sex, I must say
    that the society here, from the exclusion of females, is as dull
    as it can well be. Perhaps, however, to a stranger like myself,
    the most social circles would be insipid. I am visited by all
    the great and the learned; the former come out of respect to my
    country, the latter to my profession. The conversation with the
    latter is always upon religion, and it would be strange indeed,
    if with the armour of truth on the right hand and on the left, I
    were not able to combat with success the upholders of such a
    system of absurdity and sin. As the Persians are a far more
    unprejudiced and inquisitive people than the Indians, and do not
    stand quite so much in awe of an Englishman as the timid natives
    of Hindustan, I hope they will learn something from me; the hope
    of this reconciles me to the necessity imposed on me of staying
    here; about the translation I dare not be sanguine. The
    prevailing opinion concerning me is, that I have repaired to
    Shiraz in order to become a Mussulman. Others, more sagacious,
    say that I shall bring from India some more, under pretence of
    making them Mussulmans, but in reality to seize the place. They
    do not seem to have thought of my wish to have them converted to
    my religion; they have been so long accustomed to remain without
    proselytes to their own. I shall probably have very little to
    write about for some months to come, and therefore I reserve the
    extracts of my _Journal_ since I last wrote to you for some
    other opportunity; besides that, the ambassador, with whose
    despatches this will go, is just leaving Shiraz.

    _July 2._--The Mohammedans now come in such numbers to visit me,
    that I am obliged, for the sake of my translation-work, to
    decline seeing them. To-day one of the apostate sons of Israel
    was brought by a party of them, to prove the Divine mission of
    Mohammed from the Hebrew Scriptures, but with all his sophistry
    he proved nothing. I can almost say with St. Paul, I feel
    continual pity in my heart for them, and love them for their
    fathers' sake, and find a pleasure in praying for them. While
    speaking of the return of the Jews to Jerusalem, I observed that
    the 'Gospel of the kingdom must first be preached in all the
    world, and then shall the end come.' He replied with a sneer,
    'And this event, I suppose you mean to say, is beginning to take
    place by your bringing the Gospel to Persia.'

    _July 5._--I am so incessantly occupied with visitors and my
    work, that I have hardly a moment for myself. I have more and
    more reason to rejoice at my being sent here; there is such an
    extraordinary stir about religion throughout the city, that some
    good must come of it. I sometimes sigh for a little Christian
    communion, yet even from these Mohammedans I hear remarks that
    do me good. To-day, for instance, my assistant observed, 'How He
    loved those twelve persons!' 'Yes,' said I, 'and not those
    twelve only, but all those who shall believe in Him, as He said,
    "I pray not for them alone, but for all them who shall believe
    on me through their word."' Even the enemy is constrained to
    wonder at the love of Christ. Shall not the object of it say,
    What manner of love is this? I have learned that I may get
    letters from England much sooner than by way of India. Be so
    good as to direct to me, to the care of Sir Gore Ouseley, Bart.,
    Ambassador at Teheran, care of J. Morier, Esq., Constantinople,
    care of G. Moon, Esq., Malta. I have seen Europe newspapers of
    only four months' date, so that I am delightfully near you. May
    we live near one another in the unity of the Spirit, having one
    Lord, one hope, one God and Father. In your prayers for me pray
    that utterance may be given me that I may open my mouth boldly,
    to make known the mysteries of the Gospel. I often envy my
    Persian hearers the freedom and eloquence with which they speak
    to me. Were I but possessed of their powers, I sometimes think
    that I should win them all; but the work is God's, and the faith
    of His people does not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the
    power of God. Remember me as usual with the most unfeigned
    affection to all my dear friends. This is now the seventh letter
    I send you without having received an answer. Farewell!

                               Yours ever most affectionately,

                                                          H. MARTYN.


                                          Shiraz: September 8, 1811.

    A courier on his way to the capital affords me the unexpected
    pleasure of addressing my most beloved friend. It is now six
    months since I left India, and in all that time I have not heard
    from thence. The dear friends there, happy in each other's
    society, do not enough call to mind my forlorn condition. Here I
    am still, beset by cavilling infidels, and making very little
    progress in my translation, and half disposed to give it up and
    come away. My kind host, to relieve the tedium of being always
    within a walled town, pitched a tent for me in a garden a little
    distance, and there I lived amidst clusters of grapes, by the
    side of a clear stream; but nothing compensates for the loss of
    the excellent of the earth. It is my business, however, as you
    will say, and ought to be my effort, to make saints, where I
    cannot find them. I do use the means in a certain way, but
    frigid reasoning with men of perverse minds seldom brings men to
    Christ. However, as they require it, I reason, and accordingly
    challenged them to prove the Divine mission of their prophet.
    In consequence of this, a learned Arabic treatise was written by
    one who was considered as the most able man, and put into my
    hands; copies of it were also given to the college and the
    learned. The writer of it said that if I could give a
    satisfactory answer to it he would become a Christian, and at
    all events would make my reply as public as I pleased. I did
    answer it, and after some faint efforts on his part to defend
    himself, he acknowledged the force of my arguments, but was
    afraid to let them be generally known. He then began to inquire
    about the Gospel, but was not satisfied with my statement. He
    required me to prove from the very beginning the Divine mission
    of Moses, as well as of Christ; the truth of the Scriptures,
    etc. With very little hope that any good will come of it, I am
    now employed in drawing out the evidences of the truth; but oh!
    that I could converse and reason, and plead with power from on
    high. How powerless are the best-directed arguments till the
    Holy Ghost renders them effectual.

    A few days ago I was just on the eve of my departure for
    Ispahan, as I thought, and my translator had consented to
    accompany me as far as Baghdad, but just as we were setting out,
    news came that the Persians and Turks were fighting thereabouts,
    and that the road was in consequence impassable. I do not know
    what the Lord's purpose may be in keeping me here, but I trust
    it will be for the furtherance of the Gospel of Christ, and in
    that belief I abide contentedly.

    My last letter to you was dated July. I desired you to direct to
    me at Teheran. As it is uncertain whether I shall pass anywhere
    near there, you had better direct to the care of S. Morier,
    Esq., Constantinople, and I can easily get your letters from
    thence.

    I am happy to say that I am quite well, indeed, never better; no
    returns of pain in the chest since I left India. May I soon
    receive the welcome news that you also are well, and prospering
    even as your soul prospers. I read your letters incessantly, and
    try to find out something new, as I generally do, but I begin to
    look with pain at the distant date of the last. I cannot tell
    what to think, but I cast all my care upon Him who hath already
    done wonders for me, and am sure that, come what will, it shall
    be good, it shall be best. How sweet the privilege that we may
    lie as little children before Him! I find that my wisdom is
    folly and my care useless, so that I try to live on from day to
    day, happy in His love and care. May that God who hath loved us,
    and given us everlasting consolation and good hope through
    grace, bless, love, and keep my ever-dearest friend; and
    dwelling in the secret place of the Most High, and abiding under
    the shadow of the Almighty, may she enjoy that sweet
    tranquillity which the world cannot disturb. Dearest Lydia! pray
    for me, and believe me to be ever most faithfully and
    affectionately yours,

                                                          H. MARTYN.


                                           Shiraz: October 21, 1811.

    It is, I think, about a month since I wrote to you, and so
    little has occurred since that I find scarcely anything in my
    _Journal_, and nothing worth transcribing. This state of
    inactivity is becoming very irksome to me. I cannot get these
    Persians to work, and while they are idle I am sitting here to
    no purpose. Sabat's laziness used to provoke me excessively, but
    Persians I find are as torpid as Arabs when their salary does
    not depend on their exertions, and both very inferior to the
    feeble Indian, whom they affect to despise. My translator comes
    about sunrise, corrects a little, and is off, and I see no more
    of him for the day. Meanwhile I sit fretting, or should do so,
    as I did at first, were it not for a blessed employment which so
    beguiles the tediousness of the day that I hardly perceive it
    passing. It is the study of the Psalms in the Hebrew. I have
    long had it in contemplation, in the assurance, from the number
    of flat and obscure passages that occur in the translations,
    that the original has not been hitherto perfectly understood. I
    am delighted to find that many of the most unmeaning verses in
    the version turn out, on close examination, to contain a direct
    reference to the Lord our Saviour. The testimony of Jesus is
    indeed the spirit of prophecy. He is never lost sight of. Let
    them touch what subject they will, they must always let fall
    something about Him. Such should we be, looking always to Him. I
    have often attempted the 84th Psalm, endeared to me on many
    accounts as you know, but have not yet succeeded. The glorious
    16th Psalm I hope I have mastered. I write with the ardour of a
    student communicating his discoveries and describing his
    difficulties to a fellow student.

    I think of you incessantly, too much, I fear, sometimes; yet the
    recollection of you is generally attended with an exercise of
    resignation to His will. In prayer I often feel what you
    described five years ago as having felt--a particular pleasure
    in viewing you as with me before the Lord, and entreating our
    common Father to bless both His children. When I sit and muse my
    spirit flies away to you, and attends you at Gurlyn, Penzance,
    Plymouth Dock, and sometimes with your brother in London. If you
    acknowledge a kindred feeling still, we are not separated; our
    spirits have met and blended. I still continue without
    intelligence from India; since last January I have heard nothing
    of any one person whom I love. My consolation is that the Lord
    has you all under His care, and is carrying on His work in the
    world by your means, and that when I emerge I shall find that
    some progress is made in India especially, the country I now
    regard as my own. Persia is in many respects a ripe field for
    the harvest. Vast numbers secretly hate and despise the
    superstition imposed on them, and as many of them as have heard
    the Gospel approve it, but they dare not hazard their lives for
    the name of the Lord Jesus. I am sometimes asked whether the
    external appearance of Mohammedanism might not be retained with
    Christianity, and whether I could not baptize them without their
    believing in the Divinity of Christ. I tell them, No.

    Though I have complained above of the inactivity of my
    translation, I have reason to bless the Lord that He thus
    supplies Gibeonites for the help of His true Israel. They are
    employed in a work of the importance of which they are
    unconscious, and are making provision for future Persian saints,
    whose time is, I suppose, now near. Roll back, ye crowded years,
    your thick array! Let the long, long period of darkness and sin
    at last give way to the brighter hours of light and liberty,
    which wait on the wings of the Sun of Righteousness. Perhaps we
    witness the dawn of the day of glory, and if not, the desire
    that we feel, that Jesus may be glorified, and the nations
    acknowledge His sway, is the earnest of the Spirit, that when He
    shall appear we shall also appear with Him in glory. Kind love
    to all the saints who are waiting His coming.

    Yours, with true affection, my ever dearest Lydia,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

    It is now determined that we leave Shiraz in a week, and as the
    road through Persia is impassable through the commotions which
    are always disturbing some part or other of this unhappy
    country, I must go back to Bushire.

    My scribe finished the New Testament; in correcting we are no
    further than the 13th of Acts.

    _October 24_ to _26_.--Resumed my Hebrew studies; on the two
    first days translated the eight first Psalms into Persian, the
    last all day long thinking about the word Higgaion in the 9th
    Psalm.

    _October 27_ to _29_.--Finished Psalm xii. Reading the 5th of
    St. Matthew to Zachariah my servant. Felt awfully convinced of
    guilt; how fearlessly do I give way to causeless anger,
    speaking contemptuously of men, as if I had never read this
    chapter. The Lord deliver me from all my wickedness, and write
    His holy law upon my heart, that I may walk circumspectly before
    Him all the remaining days of my life.

    _November 1._--Everything was prepared for our journey to
    Baghdad by the Persian Gulf, and a large party of Shiraz ladies,
    chiefly of Mirza Seid Ali's family, had determined to accompany
    us, partly from a wish to visit the tombs, and partly to have
    the company of their relations a little longer. But a letter
    arriving with the intelligence that Bagdhad was all in
    confusion, our kafila separated, and I resolved to go on through
    Persia to Armenia, and so to Syria. But the season was too far
    advanced for me to think of traversing the regions of Caucasus
    just then, so I made up my mind to winter at Shiraz.

FOOTNOTES:

[46] _The Three Brothers, or the Travels and Adventures of Sir
Anthony, Sir Robert, and Sir Thomas Sherley in Persia, Russia, Turkey,
Spain, &c._, London, 1825.

[47] _Travels in Georgia, Persia, Armenia, Ancient Babylonia, &c._, by
Sir Robert Ker Porter, 2 vols., London, 1821.

[48] Mr. J.C. Marshman, C.S.I., who lived through the history of
India, from Wellesley to Lord Lawrence, and personally knew almost all
its distinguished men, writes in his invaluable History: 'The good
sense of Sir Harford and Colonel Malcolm gradually smoothed down all
asperities, and it was not long before they agreed to unite their
efforts to battle the intrigues and the cupidity of the court. Colonel
Malcolm was received with open arms by the king, who considered him
the first of Englishmen. "What induced you," said he at the first
interview, "to hasten away from Shiraz without seeing my son?" "How
could I," replied the Colonel with his ever ready tact, "after having
been warmed by the sunshine of your Majesty's favour, be satisfied
with the mere reflection of that refulgence in the person of your
son?" "Mashalla!" exclaimed the monarch, "Malcolm Sahib is himself
again." ... Sir Gore Ouseley had acquired the confidence of Lord
Wellesley by the great talents he exhibited when in a private station
at the court of Lucknow, and upon his recommendation was appointed to
Teheran as the representative of the King of England.' The two
embassies cost the East India Company 380,000_l._

[49] Sir C.U. Aitchison's _Collection of Treaties, Engagements, and
Sunnuds relating to India and Neighbouring Countries_, 2nd edition,
vol. vi. Calcutta, 1876.

[50] _A Tour to Sheeraz by the route of Karroon and Feerozabad_,
London, 1807.

[51] In two splendid volumes, printed by native hands under the
sanction of the Government at Calcutta, in 1891, Lieutenant-Colonel H.
Wilberforce Clarke published an English prose translation of _The
Divan, written in the Fourteenth Century_, by Khwaja Shamshu-d-Din
Muhammad-i-Hafiz. The work is described in the _Quarterly Review_ of
January 1892, by a writer who thus begins: 'About two miles north-west
of Shiraz, in the garden called Mosella which is, being interpreted,
"the place of prayer," lies, beneath the shadow of cypress-trees, one
of which he is said to have planted with his own hand, Shems-Edden
Mohammed, surnamed Hafiz, or "the steadfast in Scripture," poet,
recluse, and mystic.... No other Persian has equalled him in fame--not
Sadi, whose monument, now in ruins, may be visited near his own; nor
Firdusi, nor Jami. Near the garden tomb is laid open the book of well
nigh seven hundred poems which he wrote. According to Sir Gore
Ouseley, who turned over its pages in 1811, it is a volume abounding
in bright and delicate colour, with illuminated miniatures, and the
lovely tints of the Persian caligraphy.'

[52] _Persia and the Persian Question_, 2 vols. (Longmans), 1892.

[53] _Travels_, vol. i. pp. 687-8.



CHAPTER X

IN PERSIA--CONTROVERSIES WITH MOHAMMEDANS, SOOFIS, AND JEWS


Henry Martyn's first week in Persia was enough to lead him to use such
language as this: 'If God rained down fire upon Sodom and Gomorrah,
how is it that this nation is not blotted out from under heaven? I do
not remember to have heard such things of the Hindus, except the
Sikhs; they seem to rival the Mohammedans.' The experienced Bengal
civilian, Mr. E. Scott Waring, had thus summed up his impressions:
'The generality of Persians are sunk in the lowest state of profligacy
and infamy, and they seldom hesitate alluding to crimes which are
abhorred and detested in every civilised country in the universe.
Their virtues consist in being most excellent companions, and in
saying this we say everything which can be advanced in their favour.
The same argument cannot be advanced for them which has been urged in
favour of the Greeks, for they have laws which stigmatise the crimes
they commit.' Every generation seems to have departed farther and
farther from the character of the hero-king, Cyrus. At the present
time, after two visits to Europe by their Shah, the governing class,
the priestly order of Moojtahids, and the people seem to be more
hopelessly corrupt than ever.[54]

So early as the twelfth century the astronomer-poet of Persia, Omar
Khayyam, of Naishapur, in his few hundred tetrastichs of exquisite
verse which have ever since won the admiration of the world, struck
the note of dreary scepticism and epicurean sensuality, as the Roman
Lucretius had done. His age was one of spiritual darkness, when men
felt their misery, and all the more that they saw no means of
relieving it. The purer creed of Zoroaster had been stamped down but
not rooted out by the illiterate Arab hordes of Mohammed. A cultured
Aryan race could not accept submissively the ignorant fanaticism of
the Semitic sons of the desert. The Arabs destroyed or drove out
ultimately to India the fire-worshippers who had courage to prefer
their faith to the Koran; the mass of the people and their leaders
worked out the superficial Mohammedanism identified with the name and
the sufferings of Ali. The new national religion became more and more
a falsehood, alike misrepresenting the moral facts and the character
and claims of God, and not really believed in by the general
conscience. The few who from time to time arose endowed with spiritual
fervour or poetic fire, found no vent through the popular religion,
and no satisfaction for the aching void of the heart. The loftier
natures ran by an inevitable law of the human mind either into such
self-indulgent despairing scepticism as Omar Khayyam's, or into the
sensual mysticism of Sadi, Jami, and Hafiz, of the whole tribe of
ascetic enthusiasts and impostors, the Soofis, fakeers, and durweshes,
who fill the world of Islam, from the mosques on the Bosporus to the
secret chambers of Persia and Oudh. To all such we may use one of the
few rare tetrastichs which Omar Khayyam was compelled by his higher
nature to write:[55]

    O heart! wert thou pure from the body's dust,
    Thou shouldest soar naked spirit above the sky;
    Highest heaven is thy native seat--for shame, for shame,
    That thou shouldest stoop to dwell in a city of clay!

We must remember all this when we come to the disputations of Henry
Martyn with the doctors of Shiraz and Persia. They, and some fifteen
millions out of the hundred and eighty millions of Islam in the world,
are Shi'ahs, or 'followers' of Ali, whom, as Mohammed's first cousin
and son-in-law, they accept as his first legitimate imam, kaliph, or
successor; while they treat the _de facto_ kaliphs of the Soonni
Muslims--Abu Bakr, Omar, and Othman--as usurpers. The Persians are in
reality more tolerant of the Christians, the Jews, and even the Majusi
(Magi), or fire-worshippers, all of whom are people of the Book who have
received an inspired revelation, than of their Soonni co-religionists.
The people--though not of course their ruler, who is of Turkish
origin--are more tolerant of new sects, such as that of Babism, and even
their spiritual guides or the more respectable among these are in
expectation of a new leader, the twelfth, the Imam-al-Mahdi, who has
once before been manifested, and has long been waiting secretly for the
final consummation.

We must also realise the extent to which Soofi-ism had saturated the
upper classes and the Moojtahid order, who sought out Henry Martyn,
and even recognised in him the Divine drunkenness, so that they
always treated him and spoke of him as a _merdi khodai_, a man of God.
The first Soofi--a name taken either from the word for the woollen
dress of the Asiatic or from that for purity--was Ali, according to
the Shi'ahs; but this form of philosophical mysticism, often attended
by carnal excesses through which its devotees express themselves, is
rather Hindu in its origin. The deepest thought of the Asiatic,
without the revelation of Jesus Christ, is for Brahman and Buddhist,
Sikh and Soofi, Hindu and Mohammedan, this absorption into the Divine
Essence, so as to lose all personality and individual consciousness.
That Essence may be the sum total of all things--the materialistic
side; or the spirit underlying matter, the idealistic side, but the
loss of individuality is the ultimate aim. But such absorption can be
finally reached only by works--asceticism, pilgrimage, almsgiving,
meditation--and by cycles of trans-migrations to sublimate the soul
for unconsciousness of all that is objective, and of self itself.
Hafiz is as full of wine and women in his poems as Anacreon or the
worst of the Latin erotic poets; but the Soofis, who revel in his
verses, maintain that they 'profess eager desire with no carnal
affection, and circulate the cup, but no material goblet, since all
things are spiritual in their sect; all is mystery within mystery.'

What Henry Martyn learned to find, in even his brief experience of the
Aryan Shi'ahs, to whom he offered the love of Christ and through the
Son a personal union with the Father, is best expressed in this
description by the most recent skilled writer on the people, before
referred to:

    Persia is the one purely Mohammedan country which, in the
    process of a national revolt against the rigid hide-bound
    orthodoxy of Islam, has only succeeded in wrapping more closely
    round its national and political life the encircling folds of
    that 'manteau commode, sous lequel s'abrite, en se cachant à
    peine, tout le passé.' Under the extravagances and fanaticism of
    the Shi'ah heresy, the old Zoroastrian faith lives on,
    transformed into an outward conformity to the forms of the
    Moslem creed, and the product is that grotesque confusion of
    faith and fanaticism, mysticism and immorality, rationalism and
    superstition, which is the despair and astonishment of all who
    have looked beneath the surface of ordinary everyday life in
    Persia. Soofi-ism, with its profound mysticism and godless
    doctrine, has found a congenial home in Persia, often, indeed,
    blossoming into beautiful literary form such as is found in the
    _Rubaiyāt_ of Omar Khayyam, or in the delightful pages of the
    _Gulistan_ of Sheikh Sadi, or in the poems of Hafiz.

Soofi-ism is the illegitimate offspring of scepticism and fanaticism.
It is tersely described by one Persian writer as 'a sensual plunging
into the abyss of darkness'; by another as 'a deadly abomination'; and
by a third as 'the part of one who goes raving mad with unlawful
lusts.' Nevertheless, as Professor Kuenen has well observed, the true
Soofi is a Moslem no more.

All Martyn's experience among the Wahabees of Patna and the Shi'ahs of
Lucknow had fitted him for the discussions which were almost forced
upon him in Persia, for he went there to translate the New Testament
afresh. But he had, in his reading, sought to prepare himself for the
Mohammedan controversy. When coasting round India, he made this entry
in his _Journal_: '_1811, January 28._--Making extracts from Maracci's
_Refutation of Koran_. Felt much false shame at being obliged to
confess my ignorance of many things which I ought to have known.'
Soofi-ism met him the day after he reached Shiraz, on the first visit
of Seyd Ali, brother-in-law of his host, Jaffir Ali Khan. Thus:

    _June 10._--He spoke so indistinctly, and with such volubility,
    that I did not well comprehend him, but gathered from his
    discourse that we are all parts of the Deity. I observed that we
    had not these opinions in Europe, but understood that they were
    parts of the Brahmanic system. On my asking him for the
    foundation of his opinions, he said the first argument he was
    prepared to bring forward was this: God exists, man also exists,
    but existence is not twofold, therefore God and man are of the
    same nature. The minor I disputed: he defended it with many
    words. I replied by objecting the consequences, Is there no
    difference between right and wrong? There appeared a difference,
    he said, to us, but before God it was nothing. The waves of the
    sea are so many aspects and forms, but it is still but one and
    the same water. In the outset he spoke with great contempt of
    all revelation. 'You know,' said he, 'that in the law and Koran,
    etc., it is said, God _created heaven_ and the _earth_,' etc.
    Reverting to this, I asked whether these opinions were agreeable
    to what the prophets had spoken. Perceiving me to be not quite
    philosophical enough for him, he pretended some little reverence
    for them, spoke of them as good men, etc., but added that there
    was no evidence for their truth but what was traditionary. I
    asked whether there was anything unreasonable in God's making a
    revelation of His will. He said, No. Whether a miracle for that
    purpose was not necessary, at least useful, and therefore
    credible? He granted it. Was not evidence from testimony
    rational evidence? Yes. Have you then rational evidence for the
    religion of Mohammed? He said the division of the moon was
    generally brought forward, but he saw no sufficient evidence for
    believing it; he mentioned the Koran with some hesitation, as
    if conscious that it would not stand as a miracle. I said
    eloquence depended upon opinion; it was no miracle for any but
    Arabs, and that some one may yet rise up and write better. He
    allowed the force of the objection, and said the Persians were
    very far from thinking the eloquence of the Koran miraculous,
    however the Arabs might think so. The last observation he made
    was, that it was impossible not to think well of one by whose
    example and instructions others had become great and good;
    though therefore little was known of Mohammed, he must have been
    something to have formed such men as Ali. Here the conversation
    ceased. I told them in the course of our conversation that,
    according to our histories, the law and Gospel had been
    translated into Persian before the time of Mohammed. He said
    they were not to be found, because Omar in his ignorant zeal had
    probably destroyed them. He spoke with great contempt of the
    'Arab asses.'

    _June 13._--Seyd Ali breakfasted with us. Looking at one of the
    plates in Hutton's _Mathematical Dictionary_, where there was a
    figure of a fountain produced by the rarefaction of the air, he
    inquired into the principle of it, which I explained; he
    disputed the principle, and argued for the exploded idea that
    nature abhors a vacuum. We soon got upon religion again. I
    showed him some verses in the Koran in which Mohammed disclaims
    the power of working miracles. He could not reply. We talked
    again on the evidence of testimony. The oldest book written by a
    Mohammedan was the sermons of Ali. Allowing these sermons to be
    really his, I objected to his testimony for Mohammed, because he
    was interested in the support of that religion. I asked him the
    meaning of a contested passage; he gave the usual explanation;
    but as soon as the servants were gone he turned round and said,
    'It is only to make a rhyme.' This conversation seemed to be
    attended with good. Our amiable host, Jaffir Ali, Mirza Jan, and
    Seyd Ali seemed to be delighted with my arguments against
    Mohammedanism, and did not at last evince a wish to defend it.
    In the evening Jaffir Ali came and talked most agreeably on
    religious subjects, respecting the obvious tendency of piety and
    impiety, and the end to which they would lead in a future world.
    One of his remarks was, 'If I am in love with any one, I shall
    dream of her at night; her image will meet me in my sleep. Now
    death is but a sleep; if therefore I love God, or Christ, when I
    fall asleep in death I shall meet Him, so also if I love Satan
    or his works.' He could wish, he said, if he had not a wife and
    children, to go and live on the top of a mountain, so disgusted
    was he with the world and its concerns. I told him this was the
    first suggestion in the minds of devotees in all religions, but
    that in reality it was not the way to escape the pollution of
    the world, because a man's wicked heart will go with him to the
    top of a mountain. It is the grace of God changing the heart
    which will alone raise us above the world. Christ commands His
    people to 'abide in Him'; this is the secret source of
    fruitfulness, without which they are as branches cut off from
    the tree. He asked whether there was no mention of a prophet's
    coming after Christ. I said, No. 'Why then,' said he, 'was any
    mention made of Ahmed in the Koran?' He said, 'One day an
    English gentleman said to me, "I believe that Christ was no
    better than myself." "Why then," said I, "you are worse than a
    Mohammedan."'

    _June 24._--Went early this morning to the Jewish synagogue with
    Jaffir Ali Khan. At the sight of a Mohammedan of such rank, the
    chief person stopped the service and came to the door to bring
    us in. He then showed us the little room where the copies of the
    law were kept. He said there were no old ones but at Baghdad and
    Jerusalem; he had a printed copy with the Targum, printed at
    Leghorn. The only European letters in it were the words 'con
    approbazione,' of which he was anxious to know the meaning. The
    congregation consisted chiefly of little boys, most of whom had
    the Psalter. I felt much distressed that the worship of the God
    of Israel was not there, and therefore I did not ask many
    questions. When he found I could read Hebrew, he was very
    curious to know who I might be, and asked my name. I told him
    Abdool Museeh, in hopes that he would ask more, but he did not,
    setting me down, I suppose, as a Mohammedan.

    _June 25._--Every day I hear stories of these bloody Tartars.
    They allow no Christian, not even a Soonni, to enter their
    country, except in very particular cases, such as merchants with
    a pass; but never allow one to return to Persia if they catch
    him. They argue, 'If we suffer this creature to go back, he will
    become the father of other infidels, and thus infidelity will
    spread: so, for the sake of God and His prophet, let us kill
    him.' About 150 years ago the men of Bokhara made an insidious
    attempt to obtain a confession from the people of Mushed that
    they were Shi'ahs. Their moulvies begged to know what evidence
    they had for the Khaliphat of Ali. But the men of Mushed, aware
    of their purpose, said, 'We Shi'ahs! no, we acknowledge thee for
    friends.' But the moollahs of Bokhara were not satisfied with
    this confession, and three of them deliberated together on what
    ought to be done. One said: 'It is all hypocrisy; they must be
    killed.' The other said: 'No, if all be killed we shall kill
    some Soonnis.' The third said: 'If any can prove that their
    ancestors have ever been Soonnis they shall be saved, but not
    else.' Another rejoined that, from being so long with Shi'ahs,
    their faith could not be pure, and so it was better to kill
    them. To this another agreed, observing that though it was no
    sin before men to let them live, he who spared them must be
    answerable for it to God. When the three bloody inquisitors had
    determined on the destruction of the Shi'ah city, they gave the
    signal, and 150,000 Tartars marched down and put all to the
    sword.

    _June 26._--We were to-day, according to our expectation, just
    about setting off for Ispahan, when, Mirza Ibrahim returning,
    gave us information that the Tartars and Koords had made an
    irruption into Persia, and that the whole Persian army was on
    its march to Kermanshah to meet them. Thus our road is
    impassable. I wrote instantly to the ambassador, to know what he
    would advise, and the minister sent off an express with it.
    Mirza Ibrahim, after reading my answer, had nothing to reply,
    but made such a remark as I did not expect from a man of his
    character, namely, that _he_ was sufficiently satisfied the
    Koran was a miracle, though he had failed to convince me. Thus
    my labour is lost, except it be with the Lord. I have now lost
    all hope of ever convincing Mohammedans by argument. The most
    rational, learned, unprejudiced, charitable men confessedly in
    the whole town cannot escape from the delusion. I know not what
    to do but to pray for them. I had some warm conversation with
    Seyd Ali on his infidelity. I asked him what he wanted. Was
    there any one thing on earth, of the same antiquity, as well
    attested as the miracles, etc., of Christianity? He confessed
    not, but he did not know the reason he could not believe:
    perhaps it was levity and the love of the world, or the power of
    Satan, but he had no faith at all. He could not believe even in
    a future state. He asked at the end, 'Why all this earnestness?'
    I said, 'For fear you should remain in hell for ever.' He was
    affected, and said no more.

    _June 27._--The Prime Minister sent me, as a present, four
    mules-load of melons from Kaziroon. Seyd Ali reading the 2nd
    chapter of St. Matthew, where the star is said to go before the
    wise men, asked: 'Then what do you say to that, after what you
    were proving yesterday about the stars?' I said: 'It was not
    necessary to suppose it was one of those heavenly bodies; any
    meteor that had the appearance of a star was sufficient for the
    purpose, and equally miraculous.' 'Then why call it a star?'
    'Because the magi called it so, for this account was undoubtedly
    received from them. Philosophers still talk of a falling star,
    though every one knows that it is not a star.'

    _September 2_ to _6_.--At Mirza Ibrahim's request we are
    employed in making out a proof of the Divine mission of Moses
    and Jesus. He fancies that my arguments against Mohammedanism
    are equally applicable against these two, and that as I
    triumphed when acting on the offensive, I shall be as weak as he
    when I act on the defensive.

    _September 7_ to _11_.--Employed much the same; daily disputes
    with Jaffir Ali Khan about the Trinity; if they may be called
    disputes in which I bring forward no arguments, but calmly refer
    them to the Holy Scriptures. They distress and perplex
    themselves without measure, and I enjoy a peace, as respects
    these matters, which passeth understanding. There is no passage
    that so frequently occurs to me now as this: 'They shall be all
    taught of God, and great shall be the peace of thy children.' I
    have this testimony that I have been taught of God.

    _1812, January 19._--Aga Baba coming in while we were
    translating, Mirza Seyd Ali told him he had been all the day
    decrying the law. It is a favourite tenet of the Soofis, that we
    should be subject to no law. Aga Baba said that if Christ, while
    He removed the old law, had also forborne to bring in His new
    way, He would have done still better. I was surprised as well as
    shocked at such a remark from him, but said nothing. The poor
    man, not knowing how to exist without amusement, then turned to
    a game at chess. How pitiable is the state of fallen man!
    Wretched, and yet he will not listen to any proposals of relief:
    stupidly ignorant, yet too wise to submit to learn anything from
    God. I have often wondered to see how the merest dunce thinks
    himself qualified to condemn and ridicule revealed religion.
    These Soofis pretend too to be latitudinarians, assigning
    idolaters the same rank as others in nearness to God, yet they
    have all in their turn spoken contemptuously of the Gospel.
    Perhaps because it is so decisively exclusive. I begin now to
    have some notion of Soofi-ism. The principle is this:
    Notwithstanding the good and evil, pleasure and pain that is in
    the world, God is not affected by it. He is perfectly happy with
    it all; if therefore we can become like God we shall also be
    perfectly happy in every possible condition. This, therefore, is
    salvation.

    _January 21._--Aga Boozong, the most magisterial of the Soofis,
    stayed most of the day with Mirza Seyd Ali and Jaffir Ali Khan
    in my room. His speech as usual--all things are only so many
    forms of God; paint as many figures as you will on a wall, it is
    still but the same wall. Tired of constantly hearing this same
    vapid truism, I asked him, 'What then? With the reality of
    things we have nothing to do, as we know nothing about them.'
    These forms, if he will have it that they are but forms, affect
    us with pleasure and pain, just as if they were more real. He
    said we were at present in a dream; in a dream we think
    visionary things real--when we wake we discover the delusion. I
    asked him how did he know but that this dream might continue for
    ever. But he was not at all disposed to answer objections, and
    was rather vexed at my proposing them. So I let him alone to
    dissent as he pleased. Mirza Seyd Ali read him some verses of
    St. Paul, which he condescended to praise, but in such a way as
    to be more offensive to me than if he had treated it with
    contempt. He repeated again how much he was pleased with the
    sentiments of Paul, as if his being pleased with them would be a
    matter of exultation to me. He said they were excellent precepts
    for the people of the world. The parts Mirza Seyd Ali read were
    Titus iii. and Hebrews viii. On the latter Mirza Seyd Ali
    observed that he (Paul) had not written ill, but something like
    a good reasoner. Thus they sit in judgment on God's Word, never
    dreaming that they are to be judged by it. On the contrary, they
    regard the best parts, as they call them, as approaching only
    towards the heights of Soofi-ism. Aga Boozong finally observed
    that as for the Gospels he had not seen much in them, but the
    Epistles he was persuaded would make the book soon well known.
    There is another circumstance that gained Paul importance in the
    eyes of Mirza Seyd Ali, which is, that he speaks of Mark and
    Luke as his servants.

    _January 24._--Found Seyd Ali rather serious this evening. He
    said he did not know what to do to have his mind made up about
    religion. Of all the religions Christ's was the best, but
    whether to prefer this to Soofi-ism he could not tell. In these
    doubts he was tossed to and fro, and is often kept awake the
    whole night in tears. He and his brother talk together on these
    things till they are almost crazed. Before he was engaged in
    this work of translation, he says, he used to read about two or
    three hours a day; now he can do nothing else; has no
    inclination for anything else, and feels unhappy if he does not
    correct his daily portion. His late employment has given a new
    turn to his thoughts as well as to those of his friends; they
    had not the most distant conception of the contents of the New
    Testament. He says his Soofi friends are exceedingly anxious to
    see the Epistles, from the accounts he gives of them, and also
    he is sure that almost the whole of Shiraz are so sensible of
    the load of unmeaning ceremonies in which their religion
    consists, that they will rejoice to see or hear of anything like
    freedom, and that they would be more willing to embrace Christ
    than the Soofis, who, after taking so much pains to be
    independent of all law, would think it degrading to submit
    themselves to any law again, however light.

    _February 4._--Mirza Seyd Ali, who has been enjoying himself in
    idleness and dissipation these two days instead of translating,
    returned full of evil and opposition to the Gospel. While
    translating 2 Peter iii., 'Scoffers ... saying, Where is the
    promise of his coming?' he began to ask 'Well, they are in the
    right; where are any of His promises fulfilled?' I said the
    heathen nations have been given to Christ for an inheritance.
    He said No; it might be more truly said that they are given to
    Mohammed, for what are the Christian nations compared with
    Arabia, Persia, India, Tartary, etc.? I set in opposition all
    Europe, Russia, Armenia, and the Christians in the Mohammedan
    countries. He added, at one time when the Abbasides carried
    their arms to Spain, the Christian name was almost extinct. I
    rejoined, however, that he was not yet come to the end of
    things, that Mohammedanism was in itself rather a species of
    heretical Christianity, for many professing Christians denied
    the Divinity of our Lord, and treated the Atonement as a fable.
    'They do right,' said he; 'it is contrary to reason that one
    person should be an atonement for all the rest. How do you prove
    it? it is nowhere said in the Gospels. Christ said He was sent
    only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.' I urged the
    authority of the Apostles, founded upon His word, 'Whatsoever ye
    shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever ye
    shall loose on earth,' etc. 'Why, what are we to think of them,'
    said he, 'when we see Paul and Barnabas quarrelling; Peter
    acting the hypocrite, sometimes eating with the Gentiles, and
    then withdrawing from fear; and again, all the Apostles, not
    knowing what to do about the circumcision of the Gentiles, and
    disputing among themselves about it?' I answered, 'The
    infirmities of the Apostles have nothing to do with their
    authority. It is not everything they do that we are commanded to
    imitate, nor everything they might say in private, if we knew
    it, that we are obliged to attend to, but the commands they
    leave for the Church; and here there is no difference among
    them. As for the discussions about circumcision, it does not at
    all appear that the Apostles themselves were divided in their
    opinions about it; the difficulty seems to have been started by
    those believers who had been Pharisees.' 'Can you give me a
    proof,' said he, 'of Christianity, that I may either believe, or
    be left without excuse if I do not believe--a proof like that of
    one of the theorems of Euclid?' I said it is not to be
    expected, but enough may be shown to leave every man
    inexcusable. 'Well,' said he, 'though this is only probability,
    I shall be glad of that.' 'As soon as our Testament is
    finished,' I replied, 'we will, if you please, set about our
    third treatise, in which, if I fail to convince you, I can at
    least state the reasons why I believed.' 'You had better,' said
    he, 'begin with Soofi-ism, and show that that is
    absurd'--meaning, I suppose, that I should premise something
    about the _necessity_ of revelation. After a little pause, 'I
    suppose,' said he, 'you think it sinful to sport with the
    characters of those holy men?' I said I had no objection to hear
    all their objections and sentiments, but I could not bear
    anything spoken disrespectfully of the Lord Jesus; 'and yet
    there is not one of your Soofis,' I added, 'but has said
    something against Him. Even your master, Mirza Abul Kasim,
    though he knows nothing of the Gospel or law, and has not even
    seen them, presumed to say that Moses, Christ, Mohammed, etc.,
    were all alike. I did not act in this way. In India I made every
    inquiry, both about Hinduism and Mohammedanism. I read the Koran
    through twice. On my first arrival here I made it my business to
    ask for your proofs, so that if I condemned and rejected it, it
    was not without consideration. Your master, therefore, spoke
    rather precipitately.' He did not attempt to defend him, but
    said, 'You never heard _me_ speak lightly of Jesus.' 'No; there
    is something so awfully pure about Him that nothing is to be
    said.'

    _March 18._--Sat a good part of the day with Abul Kasim, the
    Soofi sage, Mirza Seyd Ali, and Aga Mohammed Hasan, who begins
    to be a disciple of the old man's. On my expressing a wish to
    see the Indian book, it was proposed to send for it, which they
    did, and then read it aloud. The stoicism of it I controverted,
    and said that the entire annihilation of the passions, which the
    stupid Brahman described as perfection, was absurd. On my
    continuing to treat other parts of the book with contempt, the
    old man was a little roused, and said that this was the way that
    pleased them, and my way pleased me. That thus God provided
    something for the tastes of all, and as the master of a feast
    provides a great variety, some eat _pilao_, others prefer
    _kubab_, etc. On my again remarking afterwards how useless all
    these descriptions of perfection were, since no rules were given
    for attaining it, the old man asked what in my opinion was the
    way. I said we all agreed in one point, namely, that union with
    God was perfection; that in order to that we must receive the
    Spirit of God, which Spirit was promised on condition of
    believing in Jesus. There was a good deal of disputing about
    Jesus, His being exclusively the visible God. Nothing came of it
    apparently, but that Mirza Seyd Ali afterwards said, 'There is
    no getting at anything like truth or certainty. We know nothing
    at all; you are in the right, who simply believe because Jesus
    had said so.'

    _March 22._--These two days I have been thinking from morning to
    night about the Incarnation; considering if I could represent it
    in such a way as to obviate in any degree the prejudices of the
    Mohammedans; not that I wished to make it appear altogether
    agreeable to reason, but I wanted to give a consistent account
    of the nature and uses of this doctrine, as they are found in
    the different parts of the Holy Scriptures. One thing implied
    another to such an extent that I thought necessarily of the
    nature of life, death, spirit, soul, animal nature, state of
    separate spirits, personality, the person of Christ, etc., that
    I was quite worn out with fruitless thought. Towards evening
    Carapiet with another Armenian came and conversed on several
    points of theology, such as whether the fire of hell were
    literally fire or only remorse, whether the Spirit proceeded
    from the Father and the Son, or from the Father only, and how we
    are to reconcile those two texts, that 'for every idle word that
    men shall speak,' etc., with the promises of salvation through
    faith? Happening to speak in praise of some person who practised
    needless austerities, I tried to make him understand that this
    was not the way of the Gospel. He urged these texts--'Blessed
    are they that mourn,' 'Blessed are ye that weep now,' etc. While
    we were discussing this point, Mohammed Jaffir, who on a former
    occasion had conversed with me a good deal about the Gospel,
    came in. I told him the question before us was an important one,
    namely, how the love of sin was to be got out of the heart. The
    Armenian proceeded, 'If I wish to go to a dancing or drinking, I
    must deny myself.' Whether he meant to say that this was
    sufficient I do not know, but the Mohammedan understanding him
    so, replied that he had read yesterday in the Gospel, 'that
    whosoever looketh upon a woman,' etc., from which he inferred
    that obedience of the heart was requisite. This he expressed
    with such propriety and gracefulness, that, added to the
    circumstance of his having been reading the Gospel, I was quite
    delighted, and thought with pleasure of the day when the Gospel
    should be preached by Persians. After the Armenians were gone we
    considered the doctrines of the Soofis a little. Finding me not
    much averse to what he thought some of their most exceptionable
    tenets, such as union with God, he brought this argument: 'You
    will allow that God cannot bind, compel, command Himself.' 'No,
    He cannot.' 'Well, if we are one with God, we cannot be subject
    to any of His laws.' I replied: 'Our union with God is such an
    union as exists between the members of a body. Notwithstanding
    the union of the hand with the heart and head, it is still
    subject to the influence and control of the ruling power in the
    person.' We had a great deal of conversation afterwards on the
    Incarnation. All his Mohammedan prejudices revolted. 'Sir, what
    do you talk of? the self-existent become contained in space, and
    suffer need!' I told him that it was the manhood of Christ that
    suffered need, and as for the essence of the Deity, if he would
    tell me anything about it, where or how it was, I would tell
    him how the Godhead was in Christ. After an effort or two he
    found that every term he used implied our frightful doctrine,
    namely, personality, locality, etc. This is a thought that is
    now much in my mind--that it is so ordered that, since men never
    can speak of God but through the medium of language, which is
    all material, nor think of God but through the medium of
    material objects, they do unwillingly come to God through the
    Word, and think of God by means of an Incarnation.

    _March 28._--The same person came again, and we talked
    incessantly for four hours upon the evidences of the two
    religions, the Trinity, Incarnation, etc., until I was quite
    exhausted, and felt the pain in my breast which I used to have
    in India.

    _April 7._--Observing a party of ten or a dozen poor Jews with
    their priest in the garden, I attacked them, and disputed a
    little with the Levite on Psalms ii., xvi. and xxiv. They were
    utterly unacquainted with Jesus, and were surprised at what I
    told them of His Resurrection and Ascension. The priest abruptly
    broke off the conversation, told me he would call and talk with
    me in my room, and carried away his flock. Reading afterwards
    the story of Joseph and his brethren, I was much struck with the
    exact correspondence between the type and antitype. Jesus will
    at last make Himself known to His brethren, and then they will
    find that they have been unknowingly worshipping Him while
    worshipping the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel.

    _April 8._--The Prince dining to-day at a house on the side of a
    hill, which commands a view of the town, issued an order for all
    the inhabitants to exhibit fireworks for his amusement, or at
    least to make bonfires on the roofs of their houses, under
    penalty of five tomans in case of neglect. Accordingly fire was
    flaming in all directions, enough to have laid any city in
    Europe in ashes. One man fell off a roof and was killed, and two
    others in the same way were so hurt that their lives were
    despaired of, and a woman lost an eye by the stick of a
    sky-rocket.

    _July 9._--Made an extraordinary effort, and as a Tartar was
    going off instantly to Constantinople, wrote letters to Mr.
    Grant for permission to come to England, and to Mr. Simeon and
    Lydia, informing them of it; but I have scarcely the remotest
    expectation of seeing it, except by looking at the Almighty
    power of God.

    Dined at night at the ambassador's, who said he was determined
    to give every possible _éclat_ to my book, by presenting it
    himself to the King. My fever never ceased to rage till the
    21st, during all which time every effort was made to subdue it,
    till I had lost all my strength and almost all my reason. They
    now administer bark, and it may please God to bless the tonics;
    but I seem too far gone, and can only say, 'Having a desire to
    depart and be with Christ, which is far better.'

                         TO REV. D. CORRIE

                                         Shiraz: September 12, 1811.

    Dearest Brother,--I can hardly conceive, or at least am not
    willing to believe, that you would forget me six successive
    months; I conclude, therefore, that you must have written,
    though I have not seen your handwriting since I left Calcutta.

    The Persian translation goes on but slowly. I and my translator
    have been engaged in a controversy with his uncle, which has
    left us little leisure for anything else. As there is nothing at
    all in this dull place to take the attention of the people, no
    trade, manufactures, or news, every event at all novel is
    interesting to them. You may conceive, therefore, what a strong
    sensation was produced by the stab I aimed at the vitals of
    Mohammed. Before five people had seen what I wrote, defences of
    Islam swarmed into ephemeral being from all the moulvi maggots
    of the place, but the more judicious men were ashamed to let me
    see them. One moollah, called Aga Akbar, was determined to
    distinguish himself. He wrote with great acrimony on the margin
    of my pamphlet, but passion had blinded his reason, so that he
    smote the wind. One day I was on a visit of ceremony to the
    Prime Minister, and sitting in great state by his side, fifty
    visitors in the same hall, and five hundred clients without,
    when who should make his appearance but my tetric adversary, the
    said Aga Akbar, who came for the express purpose of presenting
    the Minister with a piece he had composed in defence of the
    prophet, and then sitting down told me he should present me with
    a copy that day. 'There are four answers,' said he, 'to your
    objection against his using the sword.' 'Very well,' said I, 'I
    shall be glad to see them, though I made no such objection.'
    Eager to display his attainments in all branches of science, he
    proceeded to call in question the truth of our European
    philosophy, and commanded me to show that the earth moved, and
    not the sun. I told him that in matters of religion, where the
    salvation of men was concerned, I would give up nothing to them,
    but as for points in philosophy they might have it all their own
    way. This was not what he wanted; so after looking at the
    Minister, to know if it was not a breach of good manners to
    dispute at such a time, and finding that there was nothing
    contrary to custom, but that, on the contrary, he rather
    expected an answer, I began, but soon found that he could
    comprehend nothing without diagrams. A moonshi in waiting was
    ordered to produce his implements, so there was I, drawing
    figures, while hundreds of men were looking on in silence.

    But all my trouble was in vain--the moollah knew nothing
    whatever of mathematics, and therefore could not understand my
    proofs. The Persians are far more curious and clever than the
    Indians. Wherever I go they ask me questions in philosophy, and
    are astonished that I do not know everything. One asked me the
    reason of the properties of the magnet. I told him I knew
    nothing about it. 'But what do your learned men say?' '_They_
    know nothing about it.' This he did not at all credit.

    I do not find myself improving in Persian; indeed, I take no
    pains to speak it well, not perceiving it to be of much
    consequence. India is the land where we can act at present with
    most effect. It is true that the Persians are more susceptible,
    but the terrors of an inquisition are always hanging over them.
    I can now conceive no greater happiness than to be settled for
    life in India, superintending native schools, as we did at Patna
    and Chunar. To preach so as to be readily understood by the poor
    is a difficulty that appears to me almost insuperable, besides
    that grown-up people are seldom converted. However, why should
    we despair? If I live to see India again, I shall set to and
    learn Hindi in order to preach. The day may come when even our
    word may be with the Holy Ghost and with power. It is now almost
    a year since I left Cawnpore, and my journey is but beginning:
    when shall I ever get back again? I am often tempted to get away
    from this prison, but again I recollect that some years hence I
    shall say: 'When I was at Shiraz why did not I get the New
    Testament done? What difference would a few months have made?'
    In August I passed some days at a vineyard, about a parasang
    from the city, where my host pitched a tent for me, but it was
    so cold at night that I was glad to get back to the city again.
    Though I occupy a room in his house, I provide for myself.
    Victuals are cheap enough, especially fruit; the grapes, pears,
    and water-melons are delicious; indeed, such a country for fruit
    I had no conception of. I have a fine horse which I bought for
    less than a hundred rupees, on which I ride every morning round
    the walls. My vain servant, Zechariah, anxious that his master
    should appear like an ameer, furnished him (_i.e._ the horse)
    with a saddle, or rather a pillion, which fairly covers his
    whole back; it has all the colours of the rainbow, but yellow is
    predominant, and from it hang down four large tassels, also
    yellow. But all my finery does not defend me from the boys. Some
    cry out, 'Ho, Russ!' others cry out, 'Feringhi!' One day a
    brickbat was flung at me, and hit me in the hip with such force
    that I felt it quite a providential escape. Most of the day I am
    about the translation, sometimes, at a leisure hour, trying at
    Isaiah, in order to get help from the Persian Jews. My Hebrew
    reveries have quite disappeared, merely for want of leisure. I
    forgot to say that I have been to visit the ruins of Persepolis,
    but this, with many other things, must be reserved for a hot
    afternoon at Cawnpore.

    What would I give for a few lines from you, to say how the men
    come on, and whether their numbers are increasing, whether you
    meet the Sherwoods at the evening repast, as when I was there!
    My kindest love to them, your sister, and all that love us in
    the truth. May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your
    spirit, and with your faithful and affectionate brother,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

The Secretary to the British Embassy to Persia, and afterwards himself
Minister Plenipotentiary to its Court, Mr. James Morier, has given us
a notable sketch of Henry Martyn as a controversialist for Christ, and
of the impression that he made on the officials, priests, and people
of all classes. As the author of the _Adventures of Hajji Baba of
Ispahan_ and other life-like tales of the East, and as an accomplished
traveller, the father of the present Ambassador to St. Petersburg is
the first authority on such a subject. In his _Second Journey through
Persia, Armenia, and Asia Minor to Constantinople_[56] he thus writes:

    The Persians, who were struck with his humility, his patience
    and resignation, called him a _merdi khodai_, a man of God, and
    indeed every action of his life seemed to be bent towards the
    one object of advancing the interest of the Christian religion.
    When he was living at Shiraz, employed in his translation, he
    neither sought nor shunned the society of the natives, many of
    whom constantly drew him into arguments about religion, with the
    intention of persuading him of the truth and excellence of
    theirs. His answers were such as to stimulate them to further
    arguments, and in spite of their pride the principal moollahs,
    who had heard of his reputation, paid him the first visit, and
    endeavoured in every way to entangle him in his talk. At length
    he thought that the best mode of silencing them was by writing a
    reply to the arguments which they brought against our belief and
    in favour of their own. His tract was circulated through
    different parts of Persia, and was sent from hand to hand to be
    answered. At length it made its way to the King's court, and a
    moollah of high consideration, who resided at Hamadan, and who
    was esteemed one of the best controversialists in the country,
    was ordered to answer it. After the lapse of more than a year he
    did answer it, but such were the strong positions taken by Mr.
    Martyn that the Persians themselves were ashamed of the futility
    of their own attempts to break them down: for, after they had
    sent their answer to the ambassador, they requested that it
    might be returned to them again, as another answer was preparing
    to be given. Such answer has never yet been given; and we may
    infer from this circumstance that if, in addition to the
    Scriptures, some plain treatises of the evidences of
    Christianity, accompanied by strictures upon the falseness of
    the doctrines of Mohammed, were translated into Persian and
    disseminated throughout that country, very favourable effects
    would be produced. Mr. Martyn caused a copy of his translation
    to be beautifully written, and to be presented by the ambassador
    to the King, who was pleased to receive it very graciously. A
    copy of it was made by Mirza Baba, a Persian who gave us lessons
    in the Persian language, and he said that many of his countrymen
    asked his permission to take Mr. Martyn's translation to their
    homes, where they kept it for several days, and expressed
    themselves much edified by its contents. But whilst he was
    employed in copying it, moollahs (the Persian scribes) used
    frequently to sit with him and revile him for undertaking such a
    work. On reading the passage where our Saviour is called 'the
    Lamb of God,' they scorned and ridiculed the simile, as if
    exulting in the superior designation of Ali, who is called
    _Sheer_ Khodai, the Lion of God. Mirza Baba observed to them:
    'The lion is an unclean beast; it preys upon carcases, and you
    are not allowed to wear its skin because it is impure; it is
    destructive, fierce, and man's enemy. The lamb, on the contrary,
    is in every way _halal_ or lawful. You eat its flesh, you wear
    its skin on your head, it does no harm, and is an animal
    beloved. Whether is it best, then, to say the Lamb of God, or
    the Lion of God?'

Henry Martyn had not been two months in Shiraz when, as his attendant
expressed it, he became the town-talk. The populace believed that he
had come to declare himself a Mussulman, and would then bring five
thousand men to the city and take possession of it. Dissatisfied with
their own government, many Mohammedans began to desire English rule,
such as was making India peaceful and prosperous, and as was supposed
to enrich all who enjoyed it. Jewish perverts to Islam crowded to the
garden, where at all times, even on Sunday, the saintly visitor was
accessible. Armenians spoke to him with a freedom they dared not show
in conversation with others. From Baghdad to Busrah, and from Bushire
to Ispahan and even Etchmiatzin, visitors crowded to talk with the
wonderful scholar and holy man. Thus on July 6 he was presented by Sir
Gore Ouseley to the Governor, Prince Abbas Mirza.

    Early this morning I went with the ambassador and his suite to
    court, wearing, agreeably to custom, a pair of red cloth
    stockings, with green high-heeled shoes. When we entered the
    great court of the palace a hundred fountains began to play. The
    prince appeared at the opposite side, in his talar, or hall of
    audience, seated on the ground. Here our first bow was made.
    When we came in sight of him we bowed a second time, and entered
    the room. He did not rise, nor take notice of any but the
    ambassador, with whom he conversed at the distance of the
    breadth of the room. Two of his ministers stood in front of the
    hall outside; the ambassador's mihmander, and the master of the
    ceremonies, within at the door. We sat down in order, in a line
    with the ambassador, with our hats on. I never saw a more sweet
    and engaging countenance than the prince's; there was such an
    appearance of good nature and humility in all his demeanour,
    that I could scarcely bring myself to believe that he would be
    guilty of anything cruel or tyrannical.

    Mahommed Shareef Khan, one of the most renowned of the Persian
    generals, having served the present royal family for four
    generations, called to see me, out of respect to General
    Malcolm. An Armenian priest also, on his way from Busrah to
    Ispahan; he was as ignorant as the rest of his brethren. To my
    surprise I found that he was of the Latin Church, and read the
    service in Latin, though he confessed he knew nothing about the
    language.

The first of Henry Martyn's public controversies with the Shi'ah
doctors, as distinguished from the almost daily discussions already
described in his _Journal_, took place in the house of the Moojtahid
of Shiraz on July 15, 1811. The doctrine of Jesus, represented by
such a follower, was beginning so to tell on Shi'ahs and Soofis, ever
eager for something new, that the interference of the first authority
of Islam in all Persia became necessary. Higher than all other
Mohammedan divines, especially among the Shi'ahs, are the three or
four Moojtahids.[57] They must be saintly, learned, and aloof from
worldly ambition. In Persia each acts as an informal and final court
of appeal; he alone dares to temper the tyranny of the Shah by his
influence; his house is a sanctuary for the oppressed; the city of his
habitation is often saved from violence by his presence. This was the
position and the pretension of the man who, having first ascertained
that the English man of God did not want demonstration, but admitted
that the prophets had been sent, invited him to dinner, preliminary to
a conflict. Martyn has left this description of the scene:

    About eight o'clock at night we went, and after passing along
    many an avenue we entered a fine court, where was a pond, and,
    by the side of it, a platform eight feet high, covered with
    carpets. Here sat the Moojtahid in state, with a considerable
    number of his learned friends--among the rest, I perceived the
    Jew. One was at his prayers. I was never more disgusted at the
    mockery of this kind of prayer. He went through the evolutions
    with great exactness, and pretended to be unmoved at the noise
    and chit-chat of persons on each side of him. The Professor
    seated Seyd Ali on his right hand, and me on his left.
    Everything around bore the appearance of opulence and ease, and
    the swarthy obesity of the little personage himself led me to
    suppose that he had paid more attention to cooking than to
    science. But when he began to speak, I saw reason enough for his
    being so much admired. The substance of his speech was flimsy
    enough; but he spoke with uncommon fluency and clearness, and
    with a manner confident and imposing. He talked for a full hour
    about the soul; its being distinct from the body; superior to
    the brutes, etc.; about God; His unity, invisibility, and other
    obvious and acknowledged truths. After this followed another
    discourse. At length, after clearing his way for miles around,
    he said that philosophers had proved that a single being could
    produce but a single being; that the first thing God had created
    was _Wisdom_, a being perfectly one with Him; after that, the
    souls of men, and the seventh heaven; and so on till He produced
    matter, which is merely passive. He illustrated the theory by
    comparing all being to a circle; at one extremity of the
    diameter is God, at the opposite extremity of the diameter is
    matter, than which nothing in the world is meaner. Rising from
    thence, the highest stage of matter is connected with the lowest
    stage of vegetation; the highest of the vegetable world with the
    lowest of the animal; and so on, till we approach the point from
    which all proceeded. 'But,' said he, 'you will observe that,
    next to God, something ought to be which is equal to God; for
    since it is equally near, it possesses equal dignity. What this
    is philosophers are not agreed upon. You,' said he, 'say it is
    Christ; but we, that it is the Spirit of the Prophets. All this
    is what the philosophers have proved, independently of any
    particular religion.' I rather imagined that it was the
    invention of some ancient Oriental Christian, to make the
    doctrine of the Trinity appear more reasonable. There were a
    hundred things in the Professor's harangue that might have been
    excepted against, as mere dreams, supported by no evidence; but
    I had no inclination to call in question dogmas on the truth or
    falsehood of which nothing in religion depended.

    He was speaking at one time about the angels, and asserted that
    man was superior to them, and that no being greater than man
    could be created. Here the Jew reminded me of a passage in the
    Bible, quoting something in Hebrew. I was a little surprised,
    and was just about to ask where he found anything in the Bible
    to support such a doctrine, when the Moojtahid, not thinking it
    worth while to pay any attention to what the Jew said, continued
    his discourse. At last the Jew grew impatient, and finding an
    opportunity of speaking, said to me, 'Why do not you speak? Why
    do not you bring forward your objections?' The Professor, at the
    close of one of his long speeches, said to me, 'You see how much
    there is to be said on these subjects; several visits will be
    necessary; we must come to the point by degrees.' Perceiving how
    much he dreaded a close discussion, I did not mean to hurry him,
    but let him talk on, not expecting we should have anything about
    Muhammadanism the first night. But, at the instigation of the
    Jew, I said, 'Sir, you see that Abdoolghunee is anxious that you
    should say something about Islam.' He was much displeased at
    being brought so prematurely to the weak point, but could not
    decline accepting so direct a challenge. 'Well,' said he to me,
    'I must ask you a few questions. Why do you believe in Christ?'
    I replied, 'That is not the question. I am at liberty to say
    that I do not believe in any religion; that I am a plain man
    seeking the way of salvation; that it was, moreover, quite
    unnecessary to prove the truth of Christ to Muhammadans, because
    they allowed it.' 'No such thing,' said he; 'the Jesus we
    acknowledge is He who was a prophet, a mere servant of God, and
    one who bore testimony to Muhammad; not your Jesus, whom you
    call God,' said he, with a contemptuous smile. He then
    enumerated the persons who had spoken of the miracles of
    Muhammad, and told a long story about Salmon the Persian, who
    had come to Muhammad. I asked whether this Salmon had written an
    account of the miracles he had seen. He confessed that he had
    not. 'Nor,' said I, 'have you a single witness to the miracles
    of Muhammad.' He then tried to show that, though they had not,
    there was still sufficient evidence. 'For,' said he, 'suppose
    five hundred persons should say that they heard some particular
    thing of a hundred persons who were with Muhammad, would that be
    sufficient evidence or not?' 'Whether it be or not,' said I,
    'you have no such evidence as that, nor anything like it; but if
    you have, as they are something like witnesses, we must proceed
    to examine them and see whether their testimony deserves
    credit.'

    After this the Koran was mentioned; but as the company began to
    thin, and the great man had not a sufficient audience before
    whom to display his eloquence, the dispute was not so brisk. He
    did not indeed seem to think it worth while to notice my
    objections. He mentioned a well-known sentence in the Koran as
    being inimitable. I produced another sentence, and begged to
    know why it was inferior to the Koranic one. He declined saying
    why, under pretence that it required such a knowledge of
    rhetoric in order to understand his proofs as I probably did not
    possess. A scholar afterwards came to Seyd Ali, with twenty
    reasons for preferring Muhammad's sentence to mine.

    It was midnight when dinner, or rather supper, was brought in:
    it was a sullen meal. The great man was silent, and I was
    sleepy. Seyd Ali, however, had not had enough. While burying his
    hand in the dish of the Professor, he softly mentioned some more
    of my objections. He was so vexed that he scarcely answered
    anything; but after supper told a very long story, all
    reflecting upon me. He described a grand assembly of Christians,
    Jews, Guebres, and Sabeans (for they generally do us the honour
    of stringing us with the other three), before Imam Ruza. The
    Christians were of course defeated and silenced. It was a remark
    of the Imam's, in which the Professor acquiesced, that 'it is
    quite useless for Muhammadans and Christians to argue together,
    as they had different languages and different histories.' To the
    last I said nothing; but to the former replied by relating the
    fable of the lion and man, which amused Seyd Ali so much that he
    laughed out before the great man, and all the way home.

The intervention of the Moojtahid only added to the sensation excited
among all classes by the saintly Feringhi. The Shi'ah doctors had
their second corrective almost ready. They resolved to check the
spirit of inquiry by issuing, eleven days after the Moojtahid's
attempt, a defence of Muhammadanism by Mirza Ibrahim, described as
'the preceptor of all the moollas.'[58] The event has an interest of
its own, apart from Henry Martyn, in the light of a famous controversy
which preceded it, and of spiritually fruitful discussions which
followed it, all in India. Before Henry Martyn in this field of
Christian apologetic was the Portuguese Jesuit, Hieronymo Xavier, and
after him were the Scots missionary, John Wilson of Bombay, and the
German agent of the Church Missionary Society, C.G. Pfander.

Among the representatives of all religions whom the tolerant Akbar
invited to his court at Agra, that out of their teaching he might form
an eclectic cult of his own, was Jerome, the nephew of the famous
Francis Xavier, then at Goa. For Akbar P. Hieronymo Xavier wrote in
Persian two histories, _Christi_ and _S. Petri_. To his successor, the
Emperor Jahangir, in whose suite he was the first European who visited
Kashmir, H. Xavier in the year 1609 dedicated his third Persian book,
entitled _A Mirror showing the Truth_, in which the doctrines of the
Christian religion are discussed, the mysteries of the Gospel
explained, and the vanity of (all) other religions is to be seen. He
has been pronounced by a good authority[59] a man of considerable
ability and energy, but one who trusted more to his own ingenuity than
to the plain and unsophisticated declarations of the Holy Scriptures.
Ludovicus de Dieu, the Dutch scholar, who translated his two first
works into Latin, most fairly describes each on the title-page as
'multis modis contaminata.' Twelve years after, to the third or
controversial treatise of P.H. Xavier an answer was published by 'the
most mean of those who stand in need of the mercy of a bounteous God,
Ahmed ibn Zaín Elábidín Elálooi,' under a title thus translated, _The
Divine Rays in refutation of Christian Error_. To this a rejoinder in
Latin appeared at Rome in 1631, from the pen of Philip Guadagnoli,
Arabic Professor in the Propaganda College there. He calls it _Apologia
pro Christiana Religione_. If we except Raimund Lull's two spiritual
treatises and _Ars Major_, and Pocock's Arabic translation of the _De
Veritate Religionis Christianæ_, which Grotius wrote as a text-book for
the Dutch missionaries in the East Indies, Henry Martyn's was the first
attempt of Reformed Christendom to carry the pure doctrine of Jesus
Christ to the Asiatic races whom the corruptions of Judaism and the
Eastern Churches had blinded into accepting the Koran and all its
consequences.

Mirza Ibrahim's Arabic challenge to the Christian scholar is
pronounced by so competent and fair an authority as Sir William
Muir[60] as made by a man of talent and acuteness, and remarkable for
its freedom from violent and virulent remarks.

    This argument chiefly concerns the subject of miracles, which he
    accommodates to the Koran. He defines a miracle as an effect
    exceeding common experience, accompanied by a prophetic claim
    and a challenge to produce the like; and he holds that it may be
    produced by particular experience--that is, it may be confined
    to any single art, but must be attested by the evidence and
    confession of those best skilled in that art. Thus he assumes
    the miracles of Moses and Jesus to belong respectively to the
    arts of magic and physic, which had severally reached perfection
    in the times of these prophets; the evidence of the magicians is
    hence deemed sufficient for the miracles of Moses, and that of
    the physicians for those of Jesus; but had these miracles
    occurred in any other age than that in which those arts
    flourished, their proof would have been imperfect, and the
    miracles consequently not binding. This extraordinary
    doctrine--which Henry Martyn shows to be founded upon an
    inadequate knowledge of history--he proceeds to apply to the
    Koran, and proves entirely to his own satisfaction that it
    fulfils all the required conditions. This miracle belonged to
    the science of eloquence, and in that science the Arabs were
    perfect adepts. The Koran was accompanied by a challenge, and
    when they accordingly professed their inability to produce an
    equal, their evidence, like that of the magicians' and
    physicians', became universally binding. He likewise dilates
    upon the superior and perpetual nature of the Koran as an
    intellectual and a _lasting_ miracle, which will remain
    unaltered when all others are forgotten. He touches slightly on
    Mohammed's other miracles, and asserts the insufficiency of
    proof (except through the Koran) for those of all former
    prophets.

To this, which was accompanied by a treatise on the miracles of
Mohammed by Aga Akbar, Henry Martyn wrote a reply in three parts. In
what spirit he conducted the controversy, and what influence through
him the Spirit of Christ had on some of the Shi'ahs and Soofis, this
extract from his _Journal_ unconsciously testifies:

    _1811, September 12_ to _15_. (Sunday.)--Finished what I had to
    say on the evidences of religion, and translated it into
    Persian. Aga Akbar sent me his treatise by one of his disciples.
    Aga Baba, his brother, but a very different person from him,
    called; he spoke without disguise of his dislike to
    Mohammedanism and good-will to Christianity. For his attachment
    to Mirza Abel, Kasim, his brother, sets him down as an infidel.
    Mirza Ibrahim is still in doubt, and thinks that he may be a
    Christian, and be saved without renouncing Mohammedanism; asks
    his nephew what is requisite to observe; he said, Baptism and
    the Lord's Supper. 'Well,' said he, 'what harm is there in doing
    that?' At another time Seyd Ali asked me, after a dispute,
    whether I would baptize any one who did not believe in the
    Divinity of Christ? I said, No. While translating Acts ii. and
    iii., especially where it is said all who believed had one heart
    and one mind, and had all things in common, he was much
    affected, and contrasted the beginning of Christianity with that
    of Mohammedanism, where they began their career with murdering
    men and robbing caravans; and oh, said he, 'that I were sure the
    Holy Spirit would be given to me! I would become a Christian at
    once.' Alas! both his faith and mine are very weak. Even if he
    were to desire baptism I should tremble to give it. He spake in
    a very pleasing way on other parts of the Gospel, and seems to
    have been particularly taken with the idea of a new birth. The
    state of a new-born child gives him the most striking view of
    that simplicity which he considers as the height of wisdom.
    Simplicity is that to which he aspires, he says, above all
    things. He was once proud of his knowledge, and vain of his
    superiority to others, but he found that fancied knowledge set
    him at a greater distance from happiness than anything else.

Martyn's first reply in Persian to Mirza Ibrahim thus begins: 'The
Christian Minister thanks the celebrated Professor of Islamism for the
favour he has done him in writing an answer to his inquiries, but
confesses that, after reading it, a few doubts occurred to him, on
account of which, and not for the mere purpose of dispute, he has
taken upon himself to write the following pages.' The reply is signed,
'The Christian Minister, Henry Martyn.' One Mirza Mahommed Ruza
published in 1813, the year after Martyn's death, a very prolix
rejoinder. It is unworthy of lengthened notice, according to Sir
William Muir, who thus summarises and comments on the defence made by
the Christian scholar:

    Henry Martyn's first tract refers chiefly to the subject of
    miracles: he asserts that, to be conclusive, a miracle must
    exceed _universal_ experience; that the testimony and opinion of
    the Arabs is therefore insufficient, besides being that of a
    party concerned; that, were the Koran allowed to be inimitable,
    that would not prove it to be a miracle; and that its being an
    _intellectual_ miracle is not a virtue, but, by making it
    generally inappreciable, a defect. He concludes by denying the
    proof of Mohammed's other miracles, in which two requisites are
    wanting: viz., their being recorded at or near the time of their
    occurrence, and the narrators being under no constraint.

    The second tract directly attacks Mohammed's mission, by
    alleging the debasing nature of some of the contents and
    precepts of the Koran, holds good works and repentance to be
    insufficient for salvation, and opens the subject of the true
    atonement as prefigured in types, fulfilled in Christ, and made
    public by the spread of Christianity which is mentioned as
    itself a convincing miracle.

    The last tract commences with an attack on the absurdities of
    Soofi-ism, and proceeds to show that the love of God and union
    with Him cannot be obtained by contemplation, but only by a
    practical manifestation of His goodness towards us, accompanied
    by an assurance of our safety; and that this is fulfilled in
    Christianity not by the amalgamation of the soul with the Deity,
    but by the pouring out of God's Spirit upon His children, and by
    the obedience and atonement of Christ. Vicarious suffering is
    then defended by analogy, the truth of the Mosaic and Christian
    miracles is upheld, and the whole argument closes with proving
    the authenticity of the Christian annals by their coincidence
    with profane history.

Sir William Muir agrees in the opinion of Professor Lee that, situated
as Mr. Martyn was in Persia, with a short tract on the Mohammedan
religion before him, and his health precarious, the course which he took
was perhaps the only one practicable. Sir William adds: 'In pursuing his
argument Henry Martyn has displayed great wisdom and skill, and his
reasoning appears to be in general perfectly conclusive; in a few
instances, however, he has perhaps not taken up the most advantageous
ground.'

The appeal of the Christian defender of the faith, at the close of his
second part, on the incarnation and atonement, is marked by a loving
courtesy:[61]

    It is now the prayer of the humble Henry Martyn that these
    things may be considered with impartiality. If they become the
    means of procuring conviction, let not the fear of death or
    punishment operate for a moment to the contrary, but let this
    conviction have its legitimate effect; for the world, we know,
    passes away like the wind of the desert. But if what has here
    been stated do not produce conviction, my prayer is that God
    Himself may instruct you; that as hitherto ye have held what you
    believed to be the truth, ye may now become teachers of that
    which is really so; and that He may grant you to be the means of
    bringing others to the knowledge of the same, through Jesus
    Christ, who has loved us and washed us in His own blood, to whom
    be the power and the glory for ever and ever. Amen.

    _1811, July 26._--Mirza Ibrahim declared publicly before all his
    disciples, 'that if I really confuted his arguments, he should
    be bound in conscience to become a Christian.' Alas! from such a
    declaration I have little hope. His general good character for
    uprightness and unbounded kindness to the poor would be a much
    stronger reason with me for believing that he may perhaps be a
    Cornelius.

    _August 2._--Much against his will Mirza Ibrahim was obliged to
    go to his brother, who is governor of some town thirty-eight
    parasangs off. To the last moment he continued talking with his
    nephew on the subject of his book, and begged that, in case of
    his detention, my reply might be sent to him.

    _August 7._--My friends talked, as usual, much about what they
    call Divine love; but I do not very well comprehend what they
    mean. They love not the holy God, but the god of their own
    imagination--a god who will let them do as they please. I often
    remind Seyd Ali of one defect in his system, which is, that
    there is no one to stand between his sins and God. Knowing what
    I allude to, he says, 'Well, if the death of Christ intervene,
    no harm; Soofi-ism can admit this too.'

    _August 14._--Returned to the city in a fever, which continued
    all the next day until the evening!

    _August 15._--Jani Khan, in rank corresponding to one of our
    Scottish dukes, as he is the head of all the military tribes of
    Persia, and chief of his own tribe, which consists of twenty
    thousand families, called on Jaffir Ali Khan with a message from
    the king. He asked me a great number of questions, and disputed
    a little. 'I suppose,' said he, 'you consider us all as
    infidels!' 'Yes,' replied I, 'the whole of you.' He was mightily
    pleased with my frankness, and mentioned it when he was going
    away.

    _August 22._--The copyist having shown my answer to Moodurris,
    called Moolla Akbar, he wrote on the margin with great acrimony
    but little sense. Seyd Ali having shown his remarks in some
    companies, they begged him not to show them to me, for fear I
    should disgrace them all through the folly of one man.

    _August 23._--Ruza Kooli Mirza, the great-grandson of Nadir Shah
    and Aga Mahommed Hasan, called. The prince's nephew, hearing of
    my attack on Muhammad, observed that the proper answer to it was
    the sword; but the prince confessed that he began to have his
    doubts. On his inquiring what were the laws of
    Christianity--meaning the number of times of prayer, the
    different washings, &c.--I said that we had two commandments:
    'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all
    thy soul, and all thy strength; and thy neighbour as thyself.'
    He asked, 'What could be better?' and continued praising them.

    The Moolla Aga Mahommed Hasan, himself a Moodurris, and a very
    sensible, candid man, asked a good deal about the European
    philosophy, particularly what we did in metaphysics; for
    instance, 'how, or in what sense, the body of Christ ascended
    into heaven?' He talked of free-will and fate, and reasoned
    high, and at last reconciled them according to the doctrines of
    the Soofis by saying, that 'as all being is an emanation of the
    Deity, the will of every being is only the will of the Deity, so
    that therefore, in fact, free-will and fate are the same.' He
    has nothing to find fault with in Christianity, except the
    Divinity of Christ. It is this doctrine that exposes me to the
    contempt of the learned Mahometans, in whom it is difficult to
    say whether pride or ignorance predominates. Their sneers are
    more difficult to bear than the brick-bats which the boys
    sometimes throw at me; however, both are an honour of which I am
    not worthy. How many times in the day have I occasion to repeat
    the words:

        If on my face, for Thy dear name,
          Shame and reproaches be,
        All hail, reproach, and welcome, shame,
          If Thou remember me.

    The more they wish me to give up this one point--the Divinity of
    Christ--the more I seem to feel the necessity of it, and rejoice
    and glory in it. Indeed, I trust I would sooner give up my life
    than surrender it.

    In the evening we went to pay a long-promised visit to Mirza
    Abulkasim, one of the most renowned Soofis in all Persia. We
    found several persons sitting in an open court, in which a few
    greens and flowers were placed; the master was in a corner. He
    was a very fresh-looking old man with a silver beard. I was
    surprised to observe the downcast and sorrowful looks of the
    assembly, and still more at the silence which reigned. After
    sitting some time in expectation, and being not at all disposed
    to waste my time in sitting there, I said softly to Seyd Ali,
    'What is this?' He said, 'It is the custom here to think much
    and speak little.' 'May I ask the master a question?' said I.
    With some hesitation he consented to let me; so I begged Jaffir
    Ali to inquire, 'Which is the way to be happy?'

    This he did in his own manner; he began by observing that 'there
    was a great deal of misery in the world, and that the learned
    shared as largely in it as the rest; that I wished therefore to
    know what we must do to escape it.' The master replied that 'for
    his part he did not know, but that it was usually said that the
    subjugation of the passions was the shortest way to happiness.'
    After a considerable pause I ventured to ask, 'What were his
    feelings at the prospect of death--hope, or fear, or neither?'
    'Neither,' said he, and that 'pleasure and pain were both
    alike.' I then perceived that the Stoics were Greek Soofis. I
    asked 'whether he had attained this apathy.' He said, 'No.' 'Why
    do you think it attainable?' He could not tell. 'Why do you
    think that pleasure and pain are not the same?' said Seyd Ali,
    taking his master's part. 'Because,' said I, 'I have the
    evidence of my senses for it. And you also act as if there was a
    difference. Why do you eat, but that you fear pain?' These
    silent sages sat unmoved.

    One of the disciples is the son of the Moojtahid who, greatly to
    the vexation of his father, is entirely devoted to the Soofi
    doctor. He attended his kalean (pipe) with the utmost humility.
    On observing the pensive countenance of the young man, and
    knowing something of his history from Seyd Ali, how he had left
    all to find happiness in the contemplation of God, I longed to
    make known the glad tidings of a Saviour, and thanked God on
    coming away, that I was not left ignorant of the Gospel. I could
    not help being a little pleasant on Seyd Ali afterwards, for his
    admiration of this silent instructor. 'There you sit,' said I,
    'immersed in thought, full of anxiety and care, and will not
    take the trouble to ask whether God has said anything or not.
    No: that is too easy and direct a way of coming at the truth. I
    compare you to spiders, who weave their house of defence out of
    their own bowels; or to a set of people who are groping for a
    light in broad day.'

    _August 26._--Waited this morning on Mahommed Nubbee Khan, late
    ambassador at Calcutta, and now prime minister of Fars. There
    were a vast number of clients in his court, with whom he
    transacted business while chatting with us. Amongst the others
    who came and sat with us, was my tetric adversary--Aga Akbar,
    who came for the very purpose of presenting the minister with a
    little book he had written in answer to mine. After presenting
    it in due form, he sat down, and told me he meant to bring me a
    copy that day--a promise which he did not perform, through Seyd
    Ali's persuasion, who told him it was a performance that would
    do him no credit.

    _August 29._--Mirza Ibrahim begins to inquire about the Gospel.
    The objections he made were such as these: How sins could be
    atoned for before they were committed? Whether, as Jesus died
    for all men, all would necessarily be saved? If faith be the
    condition of salvation, would wicked Christians be saved,
    provided they believe? I was pleased to see from the nature of
    the objections that he was considering the subject. To this last
    objection, I remarked that to those who felt themselves sinners,
    and came to God for mercy, through Christ, God would give His
    Holy Spirit, which would progressively sanctify them in heart
    and life.

    _August 30._--Mirza Ibrahim praises my answer, especially the
    first part.

It was on the sacred rock of Behistun, on the western frontiers of
Media, on the high road eastward from Babylonia, that Darius
Hystaspes, founder of the civil policy of ancient Persia, carved the
wonderful cuneiform inscriptions which made that rock the charter of
Achæmenian royalty. At Persepolis only the platform, the pillared
colonnade, and the palace seem to have been built by him; the other
buildings, with commemorative legends, were erected by Xerxes and
Artaxerxes Ochus. Lassen, Westergaard, and our own Sir Henry
Rawlinson,[62] did not decipher these inscriptions for some twenty
years after Martyn's visit. How deaf had Ormuzd proved all through
the centuries to the prayer which Darius the king cut on a huge slab,
twenty-six feet in length and six in height, in the southern wall of
the great platform at Persepolis: 'Let not war, nor slavery, nor
decrepitude, nor lies obtain power over this province.' Henry Martyn
thus wrote of his visit:

    After traversing these celebrated ruins, I must say that I felt
    a little disappointed: they did not at all answer my
    expectation. The architecture of the ancient Persians seems to
    me much more akin to that of their clumsy neighbours the
    Indians, than to that of the Greeks. I saw no appearance of
    grand design anywhere. The chapiters of the columns were almost
    as long as the shafts:--though they are not so represented in
    Niebuhr's plate;--and the mean little passages into the square
    court, or room, or whatever it was, make it very evident that
    the taste of the Orientals was the same three thousand years ago
    as it is now. But it was impossible not to recollect that here
    Alexander and his Greeks passed and repassed; here they sat and
    sung, and revelled; now all is in silence, generation on
    generation lie mingled with the dust of their mouldering
    edifices:

        Alike the busy and the gay,
        But flutter in life's busy day,
        In fortune's varying colours drest.

    As soon as we recrossed the Araxes, the escort begged me to
    point out the Keblah to them, as they wanted to pray. After
    setting their faces towards Mecca, as nearly as I could, I went
    and sat down on the margin near the bridge, where the water,
    falling over some fragments of the bridge under the arches,
    produced a roar, which, contrasted with the stillness all
    around, had a grand effect. Here I thought again of the
    multitudes who had once pursued their labours and pleasures on
    its banks. Twenty-one centuries have passed away since they
    lived; how short, in comparison, must be the remainder of my
    days. What a momentary duration is the life of man! _Labitur et
    labetur in omne volubilis ævum_, may be affirmed of the river;
    but men pass away as soon as they begin to exist. Well, let the
    moments pass:

          They'll waft us sooner o'er
            This life's tempestuous sea,
        And land us on the peaceful shore
            Of blest eternity.

    The true character of Martyn's Mohammedan and Soofi
    controversialists comes out in the fast of Ramazan, the ninth
    month of the lunar year, when from dawn to sunset of each day a
    strict fast is observed, most trying to the temper, and from
    sunset to dawn excess is too naturally the rule, especially, as
    in this case, when Ramazan falls on the long hot days of summer.
    Of this month the traditions declare that the doors of heaven
    are opened and the doors of hell shut, while the devils are
    chained. At this time the miracle play of Hasan and Husain[63]
    is acted in the native theatres from night to night. In scene
    xxxi. are enacted the conversion and murder of an English
    ambassador. Dean Stanley used to tell that Henry Martyn,
    horrified at the English oaths put into the mouth of the Persian
    who represented the ambassador in the tragedy, took him and
    taught him to repeat the Lord's Prayer instead.

    _September 20._--First day of the fast of Ramazan. All the
    family had been up in the night, to take an unseasonable meal,
    in order to fortify themselves for the abstinence of the day. It
    was curious to observe the effects of the fast in the house. The
    master was scolding and beating his servants; they equally
    peevish and insolent, and the beggars more than ordinarily
    importunate and clamorous. At noon, all the city went to the
    grand mosque. My host came back with an account of new vexations
    there. He was chatting with a friend, near the door, when a
    great preacher, Hajji Mirza, arrived, with hundreds of
    followers. 'Why do you not say your prayers?' said the
    new-comers to the two friends. 'We have finished,' said they.
    'Well,' said the other, 'if you cannot pray a second time with
    us, you had better move out of the way.' Rather than join such
    turbulent zealots they retired. The reason of this unceremonious
    address was, that these loving disciples had a desire to pray
    all in a row with their master, which, it seems, is the custom.
    There is no public service in the mosque; every man here prays
    for himself.

    Coming out of the mosque some servants of the prince, for their
    amusement, pushed a person against a poor man's stall, on which
    were some things for sale, a few European and Indian articles,
    also some valuable Warsaw plates, which were thrown down and
    broken. The servants went off without making compensation. No
    kazi will hear a complaint against the prince's servants.

    Hajji Mahommed Hasan preaches every day during the Ramazan. He
    takes a verse from the Koran, or more frequently tells stories
    about the Imams. If the ritual of the Christian Churches, their
    good forms and everything they have, is a mere shadow without a
    Divine influence attend on them, what must all this Mahometan
    stuff be? and yet how impossible is it to convince the people of
    the world, whether Christian or Mahometan, that what they call
    religion is merely an invention of their own, having no
    connection with God and His kingdom! This subject has been much
    on my mind of late. How senseless the zeal of Churchmen against
    dissenters, and of dissenters against the Church! The kingdom of
    God is neither meat nor drink, nor anything perishable; but
    righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.

    Mirza Ibrahim never goes to the mosque, but he is so much
    respected that nothing is said: they conclude that he is
    employed in devotion at home. Some of his disciples said to Seyd
    Ali, before him: 'Now the Ramazan is come, you should read the
    Koran and leave the Gospel.' 'No,' said his uncle, 'he is
    employed in a good work: let him go on with it.' The old man
    continues to inquire with interest about the Gospel, and is
    impatient for his nephew to explain the evidences of
    Christianity, which I have drawn up.

    _September 22._ (Sunday.)--My friends returned from the mosque,
    full of indignation at what they had witnessed there. The former
    governor of Bushire complained to the vizier, in the mosque,
    that some of his servants had treated him brutally. The vizier,
    instead of attending to his complaint, ordered them to do their
    work a second time; which they did, kicking and beating him with
    their slippers, in the most ignominious way, before all the
    mosque. This unhappy people groan under the tyranny of their
    governors; yet nothing subdues or tames them. Happy Europe! how
    has God favoured the sons of Japheth, by causing them to embrace
    the Gospel. How dignified are all the nations of Europe compared
    with this nation! Yet the people are clever and intelligent, and
    more calculated to become great and powerful than any of the
    nations of the East, had they a good government and the
    Christian religion.

    _September 29._--The Soofi, son of the Moojtahid, with some
    others, came to see me. For fifteen years he was a devout
    Mahometan; visited the sacred places, and said many prayers.
    Finding no benefit from austerities he threw up Mahommedanism
    altogether, and attached himself to the Soofi master. I asked
    him what his object was, all that time? He said, he did not
    know, but he was unhappy. I began to explain to him the Gospel;
    but he cavilled at it as much as any bigoted Mahommedan could
    do, and would not hear of there being any distinction between
    Creator and creature. In the midst of our conversation, the sun
    went down, and the company vanished for the purpose of taking an
    immediate repast.

    Mirza Seyd Ali seems sometimes coming round to Christianity
    against Soofi-ism. The Soofis believe in no prophet, and do not
    consider Moses to be equal to Mirza Abulkasim. 'Could they be
    brought,' Seyd Ali says, 'to believe that there has been a
    prophet, they would embrace Christianity.' And what would be
    gained by such converts? 'Thy people shall be willing in the day
    of Thy power.' It will be an afflicted and poor people that
    shall call upon the name of the Lord, and such the Soofis are
    not: professing themselves to be wise, they have become fools.

    _October 7._--I was surprised by a visit from the great Soofi
    doctor, who, while most of the people were asleep, came to me
    for some wine. I plied him with questions innumerable; but he
    returned nothing but incoherent answers, and sometimes no answer
    at all. Having laid aside his turban, he put on his night-cap,
    and soon fell asleep upon the carpet. Whilst he lay there his
    disciples came, but would not believe, when I told them who was
    there, till they came and saw the sage asleep. When he awoke,
    they came in, and seated themselves at the greatest possible
    distance, and were all as still as if in a church. The real
    state of this man seems to be despair, and it will be well if it
    do not end in madness. I preached to him the kingdom of God:
    mentioning particularly how I had found peace from the Son of
    God and the Spirit of God; through the first, forgiveness;
    through the second, sanctification. He said it was good, but
    said it with the same unconcern with which he admits all manner
    of things, however contradictory. Poor soul! he is sadly
    bewildered.

As a Persian scholar and controversialist Henry Martyn found a worthy
successor in the German, and afterwards Church Missionary Society's
missionary, C.G. Pfander, D.D. When for some twelve years stationed at
Shushy Fort, on the Russian border of Georgia, he frequently visited
Baghdad and travelled through Persia by Ispahan and Teheran. In 1836
the intolerant Russian Government expelled all foreign missionaries
from its territories, and Dr. Pfander joined the Church Mission at
Agra. In 1835 he first published at Shushy, in Persian, his famous
_Mizan ul Haqq_, or _Balance of Truth_. A Hindustani translation was
lithographed at Mirzapore in 1843, and Mr. R.H. Weakley, missionary at
Constantinople, made an English translation, which was published by
the Church Missionary Society in 1867. This, as yet, greatest of works
which state the general argument for Christianity and against Islam,
was followed by the _Miftah ul Asrar_, in proof of the Divinity of
Christ and the doctrine of the Trinity, and by the _Tarik ul Hyat_, or
the nature of sin and the way of salvation, of both of which
Hindustani translations appeared. In his little English _Remarks on
the Nature of Muhammadanism_,[64] as shown in the _Traditions_, Dr.
Pfander quotes from Martyn's _Controversy_. By these writings and the
personal controversy in India, Dr. Pfander, following Henry Martyn,
was the means of winning to Christ, in tolerant British India, many
Mohammedan moulvies like him who is now the Rev. Imad-ud-din, D.D.[65]

Henry Martyn's description of the Persian is no less applicable to
the Indian Mohammedan, in the opinion of Sir William Muir; 'he is a
compound of ignorance and bigotry, and all access to the one is hedged
up by the other.' The Koran and the whole system of Islam are based on
partial truths, plagiarised from Scripture to an extent sufficient to
feed the pride of those who hold them. But beyond these corruptions of
Judaism and Christianity, for which the dead Eastern Churches of
Mohammed's time and since are responsible, Persians, Turks, Arabs,
Afghans, and Hindustan Muhammadans know nothing either of history or
Christian Divinity. All controversy, from P.H. Xavier's time to
Martyn's, Wilson's, and Pfander's, shows that the key of the position
is not the doctrine of the Trinity, as the Shi'ah Moojtahids of Shiraz
and Lucknow and the Soonnis everywhere make it, but the genuineness
and integrity of the Scriptures, by which the truth of the whole
Christian faith will follow, the Trinity included. The Bible, in
Hindustani, Persian, and Arabic, with its self-evidencing power, is
the weapon which Henry Martyn was busied in forging.

FOOTNOTES:

[54] See article in the _Spectator_ for August 17, 1889, by a writer
who had recently returned from Persia.

[55] See article on the poet in the _Calcutta Review_ for March 1858
(by Professor E.B. Cowell, L.L.D., Cambridge).

[56] London, 1818, pp. 223-4.

[57] Literally, 'one who strives' to attain the highest degree of
Mussulman learning.

[58] Persian form of maulvi, the Arabic for a learned man. The word is
said to mean 'filled' with knowledge, from _mala_, to fill.

[59] The Rev. S. Lee, D.D., Professor of Arabic in the University of
Cambridge for many years, in his _Controversial Tracts on Christianity
and Mohammedanism_ by the late Rev. Henry Martyn, B.D., and some of
the most eminent writers of Persia (1824).

[60] _The Calcutta Review_, No. VIII. vol. iv. Art. VI. 'The
Mahommedan Controversy,' pp. 418-76, Calcutta, 1845.

[61] As translated from the Persian by Professor Lee.

[62] Sir Henry, then Major, H.C. Rawlinson, C.B., visited Persepolis
in 1835. The _Journals_ of the Royal Asiatic Society for 1846-9
publish his copies of the inscription of Behistun and Persepolis and
his translations.

[63] See the Play as collected from oral tradition by the late Sir
Lewis Pelly, in two volumes, 1879.

[64] Second edition published by the Church Missionary Society in
1858.

[65] 'Some of our most eminent Native Christians are converts from
Mohammedanism. We may particularly mention the Rev. Jani Ali, B.A.;
the Rev. Imad-ud-din, D.D.; the Rev. Imam Shah; the Rev. Mian Sadiq;
the Rev. Yakub Ali; Maulavi Safdar Ali, a high Government official;
Abdullah Athim, also a high official, now retired, and an honorary lay
evangelist.'--_Church Missionary Society's Intelligencer_ in 1888.



CHAPTER XI

IN PERSIA--TRANSLATING THE SCRIPTURES


Great as saint and notable as scholar, in the twelve years of his
young life from Senior Wrangler to martyr at thirty-one years of age,
the highest title of Henry Martyn to everlasting remembrance is that
he gave the Persians in their own tongue the Testament of the one Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ, and the Hebrew Psalms. By that work, the
fruit of which every successive century will reveal till the
consummation of the ages, he unconsciously wrote his name beside those
of the greatest missionaries in the history of the Church of Christ,
the sacred scholars who were the first to give the master races of
Asia and Africa, of Europe and America, the Word of God in their
vernaculars. Let us write the golden list, which for modern Africa and
Oceania also we might inscribe in letters of silver,[66] were not most
of the translators still living and perfecting their at first
tentative efforts, which time must try:

 A.D.
 350 ULFILAS                                       Gothic (Teutonic)
 368 FRUMENTIUS and EDESIUS (Brothers)             Ethiopic
 385 HIERONYMUS (Jerome)                           Latin
 410 MESROBES (Miesrob)                            Armenian
 861 C. CYRILLUS and METHODIUS (Brothers)          Slavonic (Bulgarian)
1380 WICLIF (Bede in 735)                          English
1516 ERASMUS (new translation)                     Latin
1534 LUTHER (translation from Latin of Erasmus)    German
1661 JOHN ELIOT (first Bible printed in America)   Moheecan
1777 FABRICIUS (Ziegenbalg & Schultze first 1714)  Tamul
1801 WILLIAM CAREY (O.T. in 1802-9)                Bengali, &c.
1815 HENRY MARTYN                                  Persian
1816      "       (Sabat's N.T. version)           Arabic
1822 JOSHUA MARSHMAN (Morrison & Milne 1823)       Chinese
1832 ADONIRAM JUDSON (O.T. 1834)                   Burmese
1865 VAN DYCK                                      Arabic

It was David Brown who was wont to call the Bible 'The Great
Missionary which would speak in all tongues the wonderful works of
God.'

From first to last and above all Henry Martyn was a philologist. His
school and college honours sprang from the root of all linguistic
studies, Greek and Latin, in which he was twice appointed public
examiner in his college and the University of Cambridge. For the
uncritical time in which he lived, and the generations which followed
his to the present, he was an enthusiastic and accomplished Hebraist.
No young scholar in the first quarter of the nineteenth century was so
well equipped for translating the Bible by a knowledge of its two
original languages. True, he was the Senior Wrangler of the year 1801,
but to him the honour was a 'shadow,' because the mathematical
sciences could do nothing for him as a translator and preacher of the
words of righteousness, compared with the linguistic. Only once, when
the rapture of his holy work had carried him away to the borderland of
a dark metaphysical theology, did he record the passing regret that
he had abandoned the rationalistic ground of mathematical certainty.
His devotion to the study of the languages which interpret and apply
to the races of India, Arabia, and Persia, the books of the Christian
Revelation, was so absorbing as to shorten his career. Like Carey, he
never knew an idle moment, even when on shipboard, and he jealously
guarded his time from correspondence, other than that with Lydia
Grenfell, Brown and Corrie, that he might live to finish the
Hindustani, Persian, and Arabic New Testaments at least. The spiritual
motive it was, the desire to win every man to Christ, that urged his
unresting course, and in the sacred toil he had the reflex joy of
being himself won nearer and nearer by the Spirit.

    What do I not owe to the Lord for permitting me to take part in
    a translation of His Word? Never did I see such wonder, and
    wisdom, and love in that blessed book as since I have been
    obliged to study every expression. All day on the translation,
    employed a good while at night in considering a difficult
    passage, and being much enlightened respecting it, I went to bed
    full of astonishment at the wonders of God's Word. Never before
    did I see anything of the beauty of the language and the
    importance of the thoughts as I do now. I felt happy that I
    should never be finally separated from the contemplation of
    them, or of the things concerning which they are written.
    Knowledge shall vanish away, but it shall be because perfection
    has come.

On the other hand, he was ever on the watch against the deadening
influence of routine or one-sided study. 'So constantly engaged with
outward works of translation of languages that I fear my inward man
has declined in spirituality.'

Canon Edmonds expresses the experience of the present writer in the
remark,[67] that to read Martyn's _Journal_ with the single object of
noticing this point is to discover another Martyn, not a saint only,
but a grammarian. 'He read grammars as other men read novels, and to
him they were more entertaining than novels.' So early as September
28, 1804, in Cambridge we find him at prayer after dinner, before
visiting Wall's Lane, and then on his return finishing the Bengali
Grammar which he had begun the day before. 'I am anxious to get
Carey's Bengali New Testament,' which could not long have reached
London. Five days after, Thomas à Kempis, followed by hymns and the
writing of a sermon, seemed but the preliminary to his Hindustani as
well as Bengali studies. 'Engaged all the rest of the morning by
Gilchrist's Hindustani Dictionary. After dinner began Halhed's Bengali
Grammar, for I found that the other grammar I had been reading was
only for the corrupted Hindustani.' The first traces of his Persian
and Arabic studies have an interest all their own:

    _1804, June 27._--A funeral and calls of friends took up my time
    till eleven; afterwards _read Persian_, and made some
    calculations in trigonometry, in order to be familiar with the
    use of logarithms.

    _November 23._--Through shortness of time I was about to omit my
    morning portion of Scripture, yet after some deliberation
    conscience prevailed, and I enjoyed a solemn seriousness in
    learning 'mem' in the 119th Psalm. Wasted much time afterwards
    in looking over _an Arabic grammar_.

When fairly at work in Dinapore he wrote almost daily such passages in
his _Journal_ as these:

    _1807, August 25._--Translating the Epistles; reading Arabic
    grammar and Persian. 27 to 29.--Studies in Persian and Arabic
    the same. Delight in them, particularly the latter, so great,
    that I have been obliged to pray continually that they may not
    be a snare to me.... 31st.--Resumed the Arabic with an eagerness
    which I found it necessary to check. Began some extracts from
    Cashefi which Mr. Gladwin sent me, and thus the day passed
    rapidly away. Alas! how much more readily does the understanding
    do its work than the heart.

On reaching Calcutta in 1806 Martyn found this to be the position of
the Bible translation work. Carey's early labours had led to the
formation of the other English and Scottish Missionary Societies at
the close of the last century. By 1803 his experience and that of his
colleagues had enabled them, with the encouragement of Brown and
Buchanan, to formulate a magnificent plan for translating the Bible
into all the languages of the far East. The Marquis Wellesley, though
Governor-General, approved, and his College at Fort William, with its
staff of learned men, including Carey himself and many Asiatics, had
become a school of interpreters. In 1804, after all this, the British
and Foreign Bible Society was founded, under the ex-Governor-General,
Lord Teignmouth, as its first president. That Society, leaving India
to the Serampore Brotherhood, at once directed its attention to the
three hundred millions of Chinese, who also could be reached only
through the East India Company. But, until six years after, when Dr.
Marshman made the first reliable translation of the Bible into the
language, in its Mandarin dialect, there was no Chinese translation
save an anonymous MS. of a large portion of the New Testament in the
British Museum, probably of Roman Catholic origin. At that time the
infant Society did not see its way to spend two thousand guineas in
producing an edition of a thousand copies of a work about which the
few experts differed. So, while giving grants to the Serampore
translators, it invited the opinions, as to the formation of a
corresponding committee in Calcutta, of George Udny, who had by that
time become Member of Council, and the Rev. Messrs. Brown, Buchanan,
Carey, Ward, and Marshman. The Serampore plan and its rapid execution
had been communicated to all the principal civil and military
officials, who, after Lord Wellesley's tolerant and reverent action,
subscribed liberally to carry it out, and the Society continued its
grants. But when in 1807, under Lord Minto, the anti-Christian
reaction set in, caused by a groundless panic as to the Vellore
Mutiny, and the Fort William College was reduced, Dr. Buchanan
proposed to found 'The Christian Institution,' the Society preferred
its original plan of a corresponding committee, which was formed in
August 1809.

Martyn had not waited one hour for this. Almost from the day of
landing at the capital he was engaged in Hindustani translation, and
in studious preparation for his projected Persian and Arabic Bibles.
In the brotherly intercourse at Aldeen with the Serampore missionaries
it was arranged to leave these three languages entirely to him, under
the direction of Mr. Brown. Part of the Society's annual grant to
India and Ceylon of a thousand pounds a year was assigned to pay his
assistants, Mirza Fitrut, the Persian, and Nathanael Sabat, the
Arabian, and to print the results. The Corresponding Committee caused
an annual sermon to be preached in Calcutta, to rouse public
intelligence and help. On the first day of 1810 Mr. Brown preached it
in the old church, in the interest chiefly of the thousands of native
Christians who had been baptized in Tanjor and Tinnevelli, both Reformed
and Romanist, and needed copies of the Tamul Bible. Such was the result
of this appeal, headed by the Commander-in-chief, General Hewett, with
the sum of 2,000 Sicca-rupees (250_l._), that the committee resolved on
establishing a 'Bibliotheca Biblica,' combining a Bible Repository and a
Translation Library. The Scottish poet and friend of Sir Walter Scott,
Dr. Leyden, was foremost in the enterprise, and took charge of work in
the languages of Siam and the Spice Islands, as well as in the Pushtu of
Afghanistan.

On the first day of 1811 it fell to the Rev. Henry Martyn to preach
the second annual sermon.[68] His appeal was for not only the growing
native Church of India, but more particularly for the whole number of
nominal Christians, of all sects, in India and Ceylon, whom he
estimated at 900,000.[69] In 1881 the Government census returned
these, in the Greater India of our day but without Ceylon, as upwards
of 2,000,000, and in 1891 as 2,280,549. Martyn's figures included
342,000 of the Singhalese, whom the Dutch had compelled by secular
considerations outwardly to conform. The sermon, on Galatians vi. 10,
was published at the time, and it appears as the last in the volume of
_Twenty Sermons by the late Rev. Henry Martyn, B.D._,[70] first printed
at Calcutta with this passage in the preface: 'The desire to know how
such a man preached is natural and unavoidable.... His manner in the
pulpit was distinguished by a holy solemnity, always suited to the high
message which he was delivering, and accompanied by an unction which
made its way to the hearts of his audience. With this was combined a
fidelity at once forcible by its justice and intrepidity, and
penetrating by its affection. There was, in short, a power of holy love
and disinterested earnestness in his addresses which commended itself to
every man's conscience in the sight of God.'

Addressing the well-paid servants of the East India Company in
Calcutta, and its prosperous merchants and shopkeepers, the preacher
said: 'Do we not blush at the offers of assistance from home ... where
all that is raised may be employed with such effect in benefiting the
other three quarters of the globe? Asia must be our care; or, if not
Asia, _India_ at least must look to none but us. Honour calls as well
as duty.' He then continued:

    Prove to our friends and the world that the Mother Country need
    never be ashamed of her sons in India. What a splendid spectacle
    does she present! Standing firm amidst the overthrow of the
    nations, and spreading wide the shadow of her wings for the
    protection of all, she finds herself at leisure, amidst the
    tumult of war, to form benevolent projects for the best
    interests of mankind. Her generals and admirals have caused the
    thunder of her power to be heard throughout the south; now her
    ministers of religion perform their part, and endeavour to
    fulfil the high destinies of Heaven in favour of their country.
    They called on their fellow-citizens to cheer the desponding
    nations with the Book of the promises of Eternal Life, and thus
    afford them that consolation from the prospect of a happier
    world, which they have little expectation of finding amidst the
    disasters and calamities of this. The summons was obeyed. As
    fast as the nature of the undertaking became understood, and
    was perceived to be clearly distinct from all party business and
    visionary project, great numbers of all ranks in society, and of
    all persuasions in religion, joined with one heart and one soul,
    and began to impart freely to all men that which, next to the
    Saviour, is God's best gift to man....

    Shall every town and hamlet in England engage in the glorious
    cause, and the mighty Empire of India do nothing? Will not our
    wealth and dignity be our disgrace if we do not employ it for
    God and our fellow-creatures? What plan could be proposed, so
    little open to objections, and so becoming our national
    character and religion, so simple and practicable, yet so
    extensively beneficial, as that of giving the Word of God to the
    Christian part of our native subjects?... Despise not their
    inferiority, nor reproach them for their errors; they cannot get
    a BIBLE to read; had they been blessed with your advantages,
    they would have been perhaps more worthy of your respect.

The brief decade of Henry Martyn's working life fell at a time when
the science of Comparative Philology was as yet unborn, but the
materials were almost ready for generalisation. Sir William Jones, and
still more his successor as a scholar--Henry Thomas Colebrooke--had
used their opportunities in India well. The Bengal Asiatic Society, in
its _Asiatic Researches_, was laboriously piling up facts and
speculations. These awaited only the flash of hardworking genius to
evolve the order and the laws which have made Comparative Grammar the
most fruitful of the historical and psychological sciences. It might
have been Martyn's, had he lived to reach England, to manifest that
genius. His Asiatic career was contemporary with the most fruitful
part of Colebrooke's. He toiled and he speculated, as he mastered the
grammar and much of the vocabulary of the great classical and
vernacular languages which made him a seven-tongued man. But his
divine motive led him to grope for the philological solvent through
the imperfect Semitic. The Germans, Schlegel and Bopp, found it
rather, and later, in the richer Aryan or Indo-European family, in
Sanskrit and old Persian.

His longing to give the Arabs the Scriptures in their purity
intensified his devotion to the study of Hebrew; had he lived to give
himself to the Persian, he might have anticipated the German critics
who used, at second-hand, the materials that he and Colebrooke, and
other servants of the East India Company, were annually accumulating.
Nor did his Hebraism lead him, at the beginning of the century, to
that fertile criticism of the text and the literary origin of the
books of the Old Testament which, at the end of the century, is
beginning to make the inspired historians and the prophets, the
psalmists and the moralists of the old Jews live anew for the modern
Church. But how true has proved his prediction to Corrie in the year
1809:

    I think that when the construction of Hebrew is fully
    understood, all the scholars in the world will turn to it with
    avidity, in order to understand other languages, and then the
    Word of God will be studied universally.

Again in 1810:

    I sit for hours alone contemplating this mysterious language. If
    light does not break upon me at last it will be a great loss of
    time, as I never read Arabic or Persian. I have no heart to do
    it; I cannot condescend any longer to tread in the paths of
    ignorant and lying grammarians. I sometimes say in my vain heart
    I will make a deep cut in the mine of philology, or I will do
    nothing; but you shall hear no more of Scriptural philology
    till I make some notable discoveries.

Again in 1811, when at Bombay:

    Chiefly employed on the Arabic tract, writing letters to Europe,
    and my Hebrew speculations. The last encroached so much on my
    time and thoughts that I lost two nights' sleep, and
    consequently the most of two days, without learning more than I
    did the first hour.

    Happening to think this evening on the nature of language more
    curiously and deeply than I have yet done, I got bewildered, and
    fancied I saw some grounds for the opinions of those who deny
    the existence of matter.... Oh, what folly to be wise where
    ignorance is bliss!... The further I push my inquiries the more
    I am distressed. It must be now my prayer, not 'Lord, let me
    obtain the knowledge which I think would be so useful,' but 'Oh,
    teach me just as much as Thou seest good for me.' Compared with
    metaphysics, physics and mathematics appear with a kind and
    friendly aspect, because they seem to be within the limits in
    which man can move without danger, but on the other I find
    myself adrift. Synthesis is the work of God alone.

Henry Martyn's first practical work was in Hindustani. His position in
Dinapore and Patna, the capital of Bihar with its Hindi dialects, his
duties to the native wives and families of the soldiers whom he taught
and exhorted, his preaching to the Hindus and discussions with the
Mohammedans, all led him to prepare three works--(1) portions of the
_Book of Common Prayer_, which Corrie finished and published seventeen
years after his death; (2) a _Commentary on the Parables_, in 1807;
(3) the _Four Gospels_ in 1809, and in 1810 the whole _New Testament_.
Let us look at him in his spiritual and scholarly workshop.

    _1807, January 18._ (Sunday.)--Preached on Numbers xxiii. 19: a
    serious attention from all. Most of the European tradesmen were
    present with their families; my soul enjoyed sweet peace and
    heavenly-mindedness for some time afterwards. The thought
    suddenly struck me to-day, how easy it would be to translate the
    chief part of the Church Service for the use of the soldiers'
    wives, and women and children, and so have the service in
    Hindustani, by which a door would be opened to the heathen. This
    thought took such hold of me, that after in vain endeavouring to
    fix my thoughts on anything else, I sat down in the evening, and
    translated to the end of the _Te Deum_. But my conscience was
    not satisfied that this was a Sabbath employment, and I lost the
    sensible sweetness of the Divine presence. However, by leaving
    it off, and passing the rest of the evening in reading and
    singing hymns, I found comfort and joy. Oh, how shall I praise
    my Lord, that here in this solitude, with people enough indeed,
    but without any like-minded, I yet enjoy fellowship with all
    those who in every place call upon the name of our Lord Jesus
    Christ. I see myself travelling on with them, and I hope I shall
    worship with them in His courts above.

    _January 19._--Passed the morning with the moonshi and pundit,
    dictating to the former a few ideas for the explanation of the
    Parable of the Rich Fool. When I came to say that there was no
    eating and drinking, etc., in heaven, but only the pleasures of
    God's presence and holiness; and that, therefore, we must
    acquire a taste for such pleasures, the Mussulman was unwilling
    to write, but the Brahman was pleased, and said that all this
    was in the Puranas. Afterwards went on with the translation of
    the Liturgy.

    _March 23._ (To Brown.)--It is with no small delight that I find
    the day arrived for my writing to my very dear brother. Many
    thanks for your two letters, and for all the consolation
    contained in them, and many thanks to our Lord and Saviour, who
    has given me such a help where I once expected to struggle on
    alone all my days. Concerning the character in the Nagri papers
    you have sent me I have to say, it is perfectly the same as the
    one used here, and I can read it easily; and the difference in
    both the dialects from the one here is so trifling, that I have
    not the smallest doubt of the Parables being understood at
    Benares and Bettia (a Roman Catholic village), and consequently
    through a vast tract of country. A more important inference is,
    that in whatever dialect of the Hindustani the translation of
    the Scriptures shall be made, it will be generally understood.
    The little book of Parables is at last finished, through the
    blessing of God. I cannot say I am very well pleased with it on
    the reperusal; but yet containing, as it does, such large
    portions of the Word of God, I ought not to doubt of its
    accomplishing that which He pleaseth.

    _July 13._--Mr. Ward has also sent me a long and learned letter.
    He is going to print the Parables without delay for me, and the
    modern Hindustani version of them for themselves. He says, 'The
    enmity of the natives to the Gospel is indeed very great, but on
    this point the lower orders are angels compared with the
    moonshis and pundits. I believe the man you took from Serampore
    has his heart as full of this poison as most. The fear of loss
    of caste among the poor is a greater obstacle than their enmity.
    Our strait waistcoat makes our arms ache.'

    _December 29._--Translating from Hebrew into Hindustani in the
    morning. Wrote to Mr. Udny. Read Arabic and Persian as usual
    with Sabat. We had some conversation on this subject, whether we
    might not expect the Holy Spirit would endue us with
    extraordinary powers in the acquisition of languages, if we
    could pray for it only with a desire to be useful to the Church
    of God, and not with a wish for our own glory. There seemed to
    be no reason against such an expectation. I sometimes pray for
    the gifts of the spirit, but infinitely greater is the necessity
    to pray for grace, as I know by the sorrowful experience of my
    deceitfully corrupt heart.

    _1808, January 7._--As much of my time as was not employed for
    the Europeans has been devoted chiefly to translating the
    Epistles into Hindustani. This work is finished after a certain
    manner. But Sabat does not allow me to form a very high idea of
    the style in which it is executed. But if the work should
    fail--which, however, I am far from expecting--my labour will
    have been richly repaid by the profit and pleasure derived from
    considering the Word of God in the original with more attention
    than I had ever done.

    _March 31._--I am at present employed in the toilsome work of
    going through the Syriac Gospels, and writing out the names, in
    order to ascertain their orthography if possible, and correcting
    with Mirza the Epistles. This last work is incredibly difficult
    in Hindustani, and will be nearly as much so in Persian, but
    very easy and elegant in Arabic.

    _June 1_ to _4_.--Employed incessantly in reading the Persian of
    St. Matthew to Sabat. Met with the Italian padre, Julius, with
    whom I conversed in French.

    _June 6._--Going on with the Persian Gospel, visiting the
    hospital, and with the men at night. My spirit refreshed and
    revived by every night's ministration to them. Sent the Persian
    of Matthew to Mr. Brown for the press, and went on with the
    remainder of the Hindustani of St. Matthew. I have not felt such
    trials of my temper for many months as to-day. The General
    declared he was an enemy to my design in translating the
    Scriptures. My poor harassed soul looked at last to God, and
    cast its burden of sin at the foot of the cross. Towards evening
    I found rest and peace. A son-in-law of the Qasi ool Qoorrat, of
    Patna, a very learned man, called on me. I put to him several
    questions about Mohammedanism, which confused him; and as he
    seemed a grave, honest man, they may produce lasting doubts.

    _1809, September 24._--Began with Mirza Fitrut the correction of
    the Hindustani Gospels: _Quod felix faustumque sit._ Began with
    my men a course of lectures from the beginning of the Bible.

    _September 25_ to _28_.--Revising Arabic version of Romans;
    going on in correction of Hindustani; preparing report of
    progress in translating for Bible Society. Reading occasionally
    Menishi's _Turkish Grammar_.

Completed in 1810, Martyn's Hindustani New Testament for Mohammedans was
passing through the Serampore press when the great fire of March 11,
1812, destroyed all the sheets save the first thirteen chapters of
Matthew's Gospel, and melted the fount of Persian type. The Corresponding
Committee of the British and Foreign Bible Society, for which it had
been prepared, put it to press the second time at Serampore, from finer
type, and it appeared in 1814 in an edition of 2,000 copies, on English
paper. The demand for portions for immediate use was such that 3,000
copies of the Gospels and Acts, on Patna paper, had been previously
struck off. The longing translator--who had once written, 'Oh, may I
have the bliss of soon seeing the New Testament in Hindustani and
Persian!'--had then been two years dead, but verily his works followed
him. Such was the reputation of the version that it was read in the
native schools at Agra and elsewhere; while an edition of 2,000 copies
in the Deva-Nagri character, for Hindus, appeared in 1817, and was used
up till a Hindi version was prepared from it by Mr. Bowley, the zealous
agent of the Church Missionary Society at Chunar, by divesting it of
the Persian and Arabic terms. Bishop Corrie's revision of this work and
portions of the Old Testament were circulated in many editions and
extending numbers, in the Kaithi character also, among the millions of
Hindus who speak the most widespread of Indian languages with many
dialects. The Bible Society in London welcomed Martyn's work, of which
Professor Lee prepared a large edition. Learning that the lamented
scholar had done some work on the Old Testament in Hindustani, and had
taught Mirza Fitrut Hebrew, to enable that able moonshi to carry on the
translation from the original, the Society first published Genesis in
Hindustani, under Professor Lee's care, in 1817, and then issued a
revision of the rough draft of the entire version of the Old Testament,
by Bishop Corrie and Mr. Thomason. In 1843 Mr. Schürmann, of the London
Missionary Society, and Mr. Justice Hawkins, an elder of the Free Church
of Scotland and an accomplished Bengal civilian, issued a uniform
revision of the Old and New Testaments in the Arabic and Roman
characters, in the course of which Mr. Schürmann 'saw reason to revert
in a great measure to the translation of Henry Martyn, especially in the
latter half of the version.'[71] Of the different translations of the
Bible into Hindustani, the Oordoo or 'camp' language understood by the
sixty millions of Mussulmans in India, this criticism is just: 'the
idiomatic and faithful version of Henry Martyn still maintains its
ground, although, from the lofty elegance of its style, it is better
understood by educated than by illiterate Mohammedans.'[72]

In the first generation, from 1814 to 1847, after the appearance of
Henry Martyn's work, sixteen editions[73] of the Hindustani New
Testament were published and sent into circulation among the then
fifty millions of Mussulmans in India. Before Martyn's work was
printed, he and Corrie used to dictate to inquirers translations of
Bible passages suited to their needs. When Corrie was at Chunar, he
tells us, because 'there was not at that time any translation of the
Scriptures to put into his hands, a native Roman Catholic took down
the translated texts on loose pieces of paper.' Years after, Mr.
Wilkinson, of Gorakpore, was called to visit the man on his death-bed,
and found him so well acquainted with Scripture that he asked an
explanation. 'The poor man produced the loose slips of paper on which
he had written my translations,' says Corrie. 'On these, it appeared,
his soul had fed through life, and through them he died such a death
that Mr. Wilkinson entertained no doubt of his having passed into
glory.' In the forty years since the sixteen editions made the Word of
God known to thousands of India Mussulmans, the Oordoo Bible has
caused the Word to grow mightily, and in many cases to prevail.

The entire Bible in Hindustani was again revised, by Dr. R.C. Mather,
after many years' experience in Benares and Mirzapore, and was
published, in both the Arabic and Roman characters, in 1869, after
continuous labour for more than six years. He stumbled, in the library
of the British and Foreign Bible Society, on sixteen manuscript
volumes of a Hindustani translation of nearly the whole Old Testament,
beginning with Martyn's Genesis. The folios were interleaved, and on
the blank pages were thousands of notes in English. At the end of the
Pentateuch the copyist records that 'the above has been completed, by
order of Paymaster Sherwood, for the Rev. Daniel Corrie, by me,
Mákhdum Buksh.' The copy seems to have been the accomplished
Thomason's, and to have been deposited in the library by his widow
after his death at Port Louis, Mauritius. This practically complete
translation of the Old Testament had been lost for forty years. The
eulogy passed by Thomason on Martyn's Hindustani New Testament, that
it 'will last as a model of elegant writing as well as of faithful
translation,' is pronounced by Dr. Mather,[74] after all that time,
as, 'in the main, just; the work has lasted and continued to be
acceptable, and will perhaps always continue to be useful. All
subsequent translators have, as a matter of course, proceeded upon it
as a work of excellent skill and learning, and rigid fidelity.'

The modern Arabic translation of the New Testament, by Martyn and
Sabat, was not printed (in Calcutta) till 1816, and the translation of
the Old Testament was continued under the supervision of Mr. Thomason,
who became virtually Martyn's literary executor, and whose labours as
Oriental translator and editor hurried him, like his friend, to a
premature death. Both had the same biographer--the good Sargent,
Rector of Lavington. As Thomason toiled at the Arabic, Persian, and
Hindustani editions, he wrote: 'I am filled with astonishment at the
opening scenes of usefulness. Send us labourers--send us faithful
laborious labourers!'[75] Martyn's Arabic New Testament, produced
with the assistance of an undoubtedly learned Arab, as conceited and
of temper as intolerable as Sabat, did its work among the 'learned and
fastidious' Mohammedans for whom chiefly it was prepared. Professor
Lee issued a second edition in London, and Mr. Thomason a third in
Calcutta. In common with the old translations, made for the land in
which St. Paul began the first missionary work, and reproduced in
various Polyglot Bibles, it has been superseded by the wonderfully
perfect and altogether beautiful Arabic Bible (Beirut) of Dr. Eli
Smith and Dr. Van Dyck, on which these American scholars, assisted by
learned natives of Syria and Cairo, were occupied for nearly thirty
years. In the Beirut Arabic Scriptures, Henry Martyn's troubled life
with Sabat found early and luxuriant fruit. How wisely and humbly the
missionary chaplain of the East India Company estimated his own, and
especially his Arabic, translations, and how at the same time he
longed to live that he might do in 1812-20 what Eli Smith and Van Dyck
did in 1837-65, may be seen from these early letters and journals:

                 TO THE REV. DAVID BROWN, CALCUTTA

                                            Cawnpore: June 11, 1810.

    Dearest Sir,--The excessive heat, by depriving me of my rest at
    night, keeps me between sleeping and waking all day. This is one
    reason why I have been remiss in answering your letters. It must
    not, however, be concealed that the man Daniel Corrie has kept
    me so long talking that I have had no time for writing since his
    arrival.

    Your idea about presenting splendid copies of the Scriptures to
    native great men has often struck me, but my counsel is, not to
    do it with the first edition. I have too little faith in the
    instruments to believe that the first editions will be
    excellent; and if they should be found defective, we cannot
    after once presenting the great men with one book, repeat the
    thing.

    Before the second edition of the Arabic, what say you to my
    carrying the first with me to Arabia, having under the other arm
    the Persian, to be examined at Shiraz or Teheran? By the time
    they are both ready I shall have nearly finished my seven years,
    and may go on furlough.

    I am glad to find you promising to give yourself wholly to your
    plans. I always tremble lest Mrs. Brown should order you home;
    but I must not suspect her, she has the soul of a missionary. If
    you go soon we shall all droop and die. Your Polyglot
    speculations are fine, but Polyglots are Biblical luxuries,
    intended for the gratification of men of two tongues or more. We
    must first feed those that have but one, especially as single
    tongues are growing upon us so fast.

    _June 12._--To-day I have requested the Commander of the forces
    to detain D. Corrie here to assist me; he said he did not like
    to make innovations, but would keep him here for two or three
    months. This will be a great relief to my labouring chest, for I
    am still far from being out of the fear of consumption. Tell me
    that you have prayed for me.

                                                    Yours, etc. H.M.

    _August 22._--I want silence and diversion, a little dog to play
    with; or what would be best of all, a dear little child, such as
    Fanny was when I left her. Perhaps you could learn when the
    ships usually sail for Mocha. I have set my heart upon going
    there; I could be there and back in six months.

    _September 8._--Your tide rolls on with terrifying rapidity, at
    least I tremble while committing myself to it. You look to me,
    and I to Sabat; and Sabat I look upon as the staff of Egypt. May
    I prove mistaken! All, however, does not depend upon him. If my
    life is spared, there is no reason why the Arabic should not be
    done in Arabia, and the Persian in Persia, as well as the Indian
    in India. I hope your Shalome has not left you. I promise myself
    great advantage in reading Hebrew and Syriac with him.

    _September 9._--Yours of the 27th ult. is a heart-breaking
    business. Though I share so deeply in Sabat's disgrace, I feel
    more for you than myself, but I can give you no comfort except
    by saying, 'It is well that it was in thine heart.' Your letter
    will give a new turn to my life. Henceforward I have done with
    India. Arabia shall hide me till I come forth with an approved
    New Testament in Arabic. I do not ask your advice, because I
    have made up my mind, but shall just wait your answer to this,
    and come down to you instantly. I have been calculating upon the
    means of support, and find that I shall have wherewithal to
    live. Besides, the Lord will provide. Before Him I have spread
    this affair, and do not feel that I shall be acting contrary to
    His will.... Will Government let me go away for three years
    before the time of my furlough arrives? If not, I must quit the
    service, and I cannot devote my life to a more important work
    than that of preparing the Arabic Bible.

    Herewith you will receive the first seven chapters in Persian
    and Hindustani, though I suppose you have ceased to wish for
    them. The Persian will only prove that Sabat is not the man for
    it. I have protested against many things in it, but instead of
    sending you my objections I inclose a critique by Mirza, who
    must remain unknown. I am somewhat inclined to think the Arabic
    not quite so hopeless. Sabat is confident, and eager to meet his
    opponents. His version of the Romans was certainly not from the
    old one, because he translated it all before my face from the
    English; but then, as I hinted long ago, he is inaccurate and
    not to be depended upon. He entirely approves of my going to
    Busrah with his translations, and the old one, confident that
    the decision there will be in his favour. Dear Sir, take
    measures for transmitting me with the least possible delay;
    detain me not, for the King's business requires haste.

The King sent His eager servant to Persia, and did not give him the
desire of his heart to enter Arabia. Truly he hastened so unrestingly
that the Spirit of God led him to complete the Persian New Testament,
and then carried him away from the many tongues of mortal men, which
as they sprang from disunion, so they are to 'cease' in the one speech
of the multitudes of every nation and kindred and tribe and tongue who
sing the new song.

The following letter to Charles Simeon, the original of which was
presented by his biographer, Canon Carus, to Canon Moor, who permits
it to be published here for the first time, fitly introduces Henry
Martyn's translation used in Persia. Simeon received it on January 21,
1812, and thus wrote of it to Thomason:

    From whom, think you, did I receive a letter yesterday? From our
    beloved Martyn in Persia. He begins to find his strength
    improve, and he is 'disputing daily' with the learned, who, he
    says, are extremely subtile. They are not a little afraid of
    him, and are going to write a book on the evidences of their
    religion. The evidences of Mohammedanism! A fine comparison they
    will make with those of Christianity. Oh, that God may endue our
    brother with wisdom and strength to execute all that is in his
    heart. He is desirous of spending two years in Persia, and is
    willing to sacrifice his salary if the East India Company will
    not give him leave. I am going in an hour to Mr. Grant to
    consult him, and shall call on Mr. Astell if Mr. Grant thinks it
    expedient.

                          TO REV. C. SIMEON

                                               Shiraz: July 8, 1811.

    My dearest Friend and Brother,--My last letter to you was from
    Bombay. I sailed thence on March 25, in the Company's corvette,
    the Benares. As the ship was manned principally by Europeans, I
    had a good deal to do during the voyage, but through the mercy
    of our Heavenly Father I was so far from suffering that I rather
    gained strength, and am now apparently as well as ever I was. On
    Easter day we made the coast of Mekran, in Persia, and on the
    Sunday following landed at Muscat, in Arabia. Here I met with an
    African slave, who tried hard to persuade me that I was in the
    wrong and he in the right. The dispute ended in his asking for
    an Arabic Testament, which I gave him. We were about a month in
    the Persian Gulf, generally in sight of land. At last, on May
    22, I was set down at Bushire, in Persia, and was kindly
    received by the English Resident. One day I went to the Armenian
    church, at the request of the priest, not expecting to see
    anything like Christian worship, and accordingly I did not. The
    Word of God was read, indeed, but in such a way that no man
    could have understood it. After church he desired me to notice
    that he had censed me _four_ times because I was a priest. This
    will give you an idea of their excessive childishness. I took
    occasion from his remark to speak about the priest's office, and
    the awful importance of it. Nothing can be conceived more vapid
    and inane than his observations.

    As soon as my Persian dress was ready, I set off for the
    interior in a kafila, or small caravan, consisting chiefly of
    mules, and after a very fatiguing journey of ten days over the
    mountains, during which time the difference in the thermometer
    by day and night was often sixty degrees, I arrived at this
    place about a month ago.

    I had no intention of making any stay here, but I found, on my
    producing Sabat's Persian translation, that I must sit down with
    native Persians to begin the work once more. The fault found
    with Sabat's work is that he uses words not only so difficult as
    to be unintelligible to the generality, but such as never were
    in use in the Persian.

    When it is considered that the issue of all disputes with the
    Mohammedans is a reference to the Scriptures, and that the
    Persian and Arabic are known all over the Mohammedan world, it
    will be evident that we ought to spare no pains in obtaining
    good versions in these languages. Hence I look upon my staying
    here for a time as a duty paramount to every other, and I trust
    that the Government in India will look upon it in the same
    light. If they should stop my pay, it would not alter my purpose
    in the least, but it would be an inconvenience. I should be
    happy, therefore, if the Court of Directors would sanction my
    residence in these parts for a year or two. No one who has been
    in Persia will imagine that I am here for my own pleasure. India
    is a paradise to it. All is poverty and desolation without, and
    within I have no comfort but in my God. I am in the midst of
    enemies, who argue against the truth, sometimes with uncommon
    subtlety. But I pray for the fulfilment of the Lord's promise,
    and I am assured that He will be with me and give me a mouth and
    a wisdom, which all my adversaries shall not be able to gainsay
    or resist. I am sometimes asked whether I am not afraid to speak
    so boldly against the Mohammedan religion. I tell them if I say
    or do anything against the laws I am not unwilling to suffer,
    but if I say nothing but what naturally comes in the course of
    argument--it is an argument too which you yourselves began--why
    should I fear? You know the power of the English too well to
    suppose that they would let any violence be offered to me with
    impunity.

    The English ambassador, Sir Gore Ouseley, whom I met here on
    his way to Tabreez, carried me with him to the court of the
    prince, who, though tributary to his father, is a sovereign
    prince in Elam, as the S. Scriptures call the province of Fars.
    He has also recommended me to the prince's favourite minister,
    so that I am in no danger. But there is certainly a great stir
    among the learned, and every effort is made to support their
    cause. They have now persuaded the father of all the moollas to
    write a book in Arabic on the evidences of the Mohammedan
    religion, a book which is to silence me for ever. I rather
    suppose that the more their cause is examined the worse it will
    appear.

    I have had no news from India these four months, so I can say
    nothing of our friends there. Let your next letters be sent not
    to India, but direct to Persia, in this way: Rev. H.M., care of
    Sir Gore Ouseley, Bart., Ambassador Extraordinary, etc.,
    _Teheran_; care of S. Morier, Esq., _Constantinople_; care of
    George Moore, Esq., _Malta_. My kindest love to all your dear
    people, Messrs. Bowman and Goodall, Farish, Port, Phillips, etc.
    I hope they continue to remember me once a week in their
    prayers; to the _four godly professors_;[76] to your young men
    though to me unknown, and especially to your brother. Believe me
    to be yours ever most affectionately,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

    _1812, January 1_ to _8_.--Spared by mercy to see the beginning
    of another year. The last has been in some respects a memorable
    year; transported in safety to Shiraz, I have been led, by the
    particular providence of God, to undertake a work the idea of
    which never entered my mind till my arrival here, but which has
    gone on without material interruption and is now nearly
    finished. To all appearance the present year will be more
    perilous than any I have seen, but if I live to complete the
    Persian New Testament, my life after that will be of less
    importance. But whether life or death be mine, may Christ be
    magnified in me. If He has work for me to do, I cannot die.

He had just before written this pathetic letter, of exquisite
friendliness:

                        TO THE REV. D. CORRIE

                                          Shiraz: December 12, 1811.

    Dearest Brother,--Your letters of January 28 and April 22 have
    just reached me. After being a whole year without any tidings of
    you, you may conceive how much they have tended to revive my
    spirits. Indeed, I know not how to be sufficiently thankful to
    our God and Father for giving me a brother who is indeed a
    brother to my soul, and thus follows me with affectionate
    prayers wherever I go, and more than supplies my place to the
    precious flock over whom the Holy Ghost hath made us overseers.
    There is only one thing in your letters that makes me uneasy,
    and that is, the oppression you complain of in the hot weather.
    As you will have to pass another hot season at Cawnpore, and I
    do not know how many more, I must again urge you to spare
    yourself. I am endeavouring to learn the true use of time in a
    new way, by placing myself in idea twenty or thirty years in
    advance, and then considering how I ought to have managed twenty
    or thirty years ago. In racing violently for a year or two, and
    then breaking down? In this way I have reasoned myself into
    contentment about staying so long at Shiraz. I thought at first,
    what will the Government in India think of my being away so
    long, or what will my friends think? Shall I not appear to all a
    wandering shepherd, leaving the flock and running about for my
    own pleasure! But placing myself twenty years on in time, I say,
    Why could not I stay at Shiraz long enough to get a New
    Testament done there, even if I had been detained there on that
    account three or six years? What work of equal importance can
    ever come from me? So that now I am resolved to wait here till
    the New Testament is finished, though I incur the displeasure of
    Government, or even be dismissed the service. I have been many
    times on the eve of my departure, as my translator promised to
    accompany me to Baghdad, but that city being in great confusion
    he is afraid to trust himself there; so I resolved to go
    westward through the north of Persia, but found it impossible,
    on account of the snow which blocks up the roads in winter, to
    proceed till spring. Here I am therefore, for three months more;
    our Testament will be finished, please God, in six weeks. I go
    on as usual, riding round the walls in the morning, and singing
    hymns at night over my milk and water, for tea I have none,
    though I much want it. I am with you in spirit almost every
    evening, and feel a bliss I cannot describe in being one with
    the dear saints of God all over the earth, through one Lord and
    one Spirit.

    They continued throwing stones at me every day, till happening
    one day to tell Jaffir Ali Khan, my host, how one as big as my
    fist had hit me in the back, he wrote to the Governor, who sent
    an order to all the gates, that if any one insulted me he should
    be bastinadoed, and the next day came himself in state to pay me
    a visit. These measures have had the desired effect; they now
    call me the Feringhi Nabob, and very civilly offer me the
    kalean; but indeed the Persian commonalty are very brutes; the
    Soofis declare themselves unable to account for the fierceness
    of their countrymen, except it be from the influence of Islam.
    After speaking in my praise one of them added 'and there are the
    Hindus too (who have brought the guns), when I saw their
    gentleness I was quite charmed with them; but as for our
    Iranees, they delight in nothing but tormenting their fellow
    creatures.' These Soofis are quite the Methodists of the East.
    They delight in everything Christian, except in being exclusive.
    They consider that all will finally return to God, from whom
    they emanated, or rather of whom they are only different forms.
    The doctrine of the Trinity they admired, but not the atonement,
    because the Mohammedans, they say, consider Imam Husain as also
    crucified for the sins of men; and to everything Mohammedan they
    have a particular aversion. Yet withal they conform externally.
    From these, however, you will perceive the first Persian Church
    will be formed, judging after the manner of men. The employment
    of my leisure hours is translating the Psalms into Persian. What
    will poor Fitrut do when he gets to the poetical books? Job, I
    hope, you have let him pass over. The Books of Solomon are also
    in a very sorry condition in the English. The Prophets are all
    much easier, and consequently better done. I hear there is a man
    at Yezd that has fallen into the same way of thinking as myself
    about the letters, and professes to have found out all the arts
    and sciences from them. I should be glad to compare notes with
    him. It is now time for me to bid you good night. We have had
    ice on the pools some time, but no snow yet. They build their
    houses without chimneys, so if we want a fire we must take the
    smoke along with it. I prefer wrapping myself in my sheepskin.

    Your accounts of the progress of the kingdom of God among you
    are truly refreshing. Tell dear H. and the men of both regiments
    that I salute them much in the Lord, and make mention of them in
    my prayers. May I continue to hear thus of their state, and if I
    am spared to see them again, may we make it evident that we have
    grown in grace. Affectionate remembrances to your sister and
    Sherwoods; I hope they continue to prosecute their labours of
    love. Remember me to the people of Cawnpore who inquire, etc.
    Why have not I mentioned Col. P.? It is not because he is not in
    my heart, for there is hardly a man in the world whom I love and
    honour more. My most Christian salutations to him.

    May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit,
    dearest brother. Yours affectionately,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

Martyn's Cambridge Persian studies were continued for practical
Hindustani purposes at Dinapore, in 1809, and the following incident
unconsciously lights up his Persian scholarship at that date. Writing
to the impatient David Brown at Aldeen, from Patna, on March 28, he
says:

    You chide me for not trusting my Hindustani to the press. Last
    week we began the correction of it; present, a Sayyid of Delhi,
    a poet of Lucknow, three or four literates of Patna, and Baba
    Ali in the chair; Sabat and myself assessors.

    I was amazed and mortified at observing that reference was had
    to the Persian for every verse, in order to understand the
    Hindustani. It was, however, a consolation to find that from the
    Persian they caught the meaning of it instantly, always
    expressing their admiration of the plainness of their
    translation.

But when the Persian translation of the four Gospels was printed at
Serampore, nearly two years after, Martyn himself was dissatisfied
with it. His Cawnpore and especially Lucknow experience had developed
him in Persian style, and led him to see that in Persia itself only
could the great work be done of translating the Word of God into a
language spoken and read from Calcutta and Patna to Damascus and
Tabreez.

When Henry Martyn did the noblest achievement of his life, the
production of the Persian New Testament, he unknowingly linked himself
with the greatest of the Greek Fathers, near whose dust his own was
about to be laid. Until the Eastern Church ceased to be aggressive--that
is, missionary--Persia, like Central Asia up to China itself, promised
to be all Christian. Islam, a corrupted mixture of Judaism and
Christianity, took its place. Persia sent a bishop to the Council of
Nicæa in 325, and the great Constantine wrote a letter to King Sapor,
recommending to his protection the Christian Churches in his empire.[77]
Chrysostom (347-407), in his second homily on John, incidentally tells
us that 'the Persians, having translated the doctrines of the Gospel
into their own tongue, had learned, though barbarians, the true
philosophy.' In his homily on the memorial of Mary he puts the Persians
first, and our British forefathers last, in this remarkable passage:
'The Persians, the Indians, Scythians, Thracians, Sarmatians, the race
of the Moors, and the inhabitants of the British Isles, celebrate a deed
performed in a private family in Judea by a woman that had been a
sinner.' The isles of Britain, Claudius Buchanan well remarks, then
last, are now the first to restore this memorial to the Persians as well
as to other Mohammedan nations. Even so late as 1740 the tyrant Nadir
Shah, inquiring as to Jesus Christ, asked for a Persian copy of the
Gospels, and had presented to him the combined work of an ignorant
Romish priest and some Mohammedan moollas, which excited his ridicule.
The traveller, Jonas Hanway, tells us that when Henry Martyn saw this
production he exclaimed that he did not wonder at Nadir's contempt of
it.

Martyn arrived in Shiraz on June 11, 1811; in a week he began his
Persian translation of the New Testament, and in February 1812 he
completed the happy toil, carried on amidst disputations with Soofis and
Shi'ahs, Jews and Christians of the Oriental rites, while consumption
wasted his body. His 'leisure' he spent in translating the Hebrew
Psalter. Let us look at him, in that South Persian summer and winter and
summer again, now in the city of Shiraz, now driven by the sultry heat
to the garden of roses and orange-trees outside the walls near the tomb
of Hafiz. The Christian poet has pictured the scene--Alford, when Dean
of Canterbury in 1851. Twenty years after, he himself was laid in the
churchyard of the mother church of England, St. Martin's, under this
inscription--'Diversorium Viatoris Hierosolymam Proficiscentis':

                     _HENRY MARTYN AT SHIRAZ_

  I

  A vision of the bright Shiraz, of Persian bards the theme:
  The vine with bunches laden hangs o'er the crystal stream;
  The nightingale all day her notes in rosy thickets trills,
  And the brooding heat-mist faintly lies along the distant hills.

  II

  About the plain are scattered wide, in many a crumbling heap,
  The fanes of other days, and tombs where Iran's poets sleep:
  And in the midst, like burnished gems, in noonday light repose
  The minarets of bright Shiraz--the City of the Rose.

  III

  One group beside the river bank in rapt discourse are seen,
  Where hangs the golden orange on its boughs of purest green;
  Their words are sweet and low, and their looks are lit with joy,
  Some holy blessing seems to rest on them and their employ.

  IV

  The pale-faced Frank among them sits: what brought him from afar?
  Nor bears he bales of merchandise, nor teaches skill in war;
  One pearl alone he brings with him,--the Book of life and death;
  One warfare only teaches he--to fight the fight of faith.

  V

  And Iran's sons are round him, and one with solemn tone
  Tells how the Lord of Glory was rejected by His own;
  Tells, from the wondrous Gospel, of the Trial and the Doom,
  The words Divine of Love and Might--the Scourge, the Cross, the Tomb.

  VI

  Far sweeter to the stranger's ear those Eastern accents sound
  Than music of the nightingale that fills the air around:
  Lovelier than balmiest odours sent from gardens of the rose,
  The fragrance from the contrite soul and chastened lip that flows.

  VII

  The nightingales have ceased to sing, the roses' leaves are shed,
  The Frank's pale face in Tokat's field hath mouldered with the dead:
  Alone and all unfriended, midst his Master's work he fell,
  With none to bathe his fevered brow, with none his tale to tell.

  VIII

  But still those sweet and solemn tones about him sound in bliss,
  And fragrance from those flowers of God for evermore is his:
  For his the meed, by grace, of those who, rich in zeal and love,
  Turn many unto righteousness, and shine as stars above.

This was the beginning of the Persian New Testament:

                         TO REV. DAVID BROWN

                                              Shiraz: June 24, 1811.

    Dearest Sir,--I believe I told you that the advanced state of
    the season rendered it necessary to go to Arabia circuitously by
    way of Persia. Behold me therefore in the Athens of Fars, the
    haunt of the Persian man. Beneath are the ashes of Hafiz and
    Sadi; above, green gardens and running waters, roses and
    nightingales. Does Mr. Bird envy my lot? Let him solace himself
    with Aldeen. How gladly would I give him Shiraz for Aldeen; how
    often while toiling through this miserable country have I
    sighed for Aldeen! If I am ever permitted to see India again
    nothing but dire necessity, or the imperious call of duty, will
    ever induce me to travel again. One thing is good here, the
    fruit; we have apples and apricots, plums, nectarines,
    greengages and cherries, all of which are served up with ice and
    snow. When I have said this for Shiraz I have said all.

    But to have done with what grows out of the soil, let us come to
    the men. The Persians are, like ourselves, immortal; their
    language had passed a long way beyond the limits of Iran. The
    men of Shiraz propose to translate the New Testament with me.
    Can I refuse to stay? After much deliberation I have determined
    to remain here six months. It is sorely against my will, but I
    feel it to be a duty. From all that I can collect there appears
    no probability of our ever having a good translation made out of
    Persia. At Bombay I showed Moolla Firoz, the most learned man
    there, the three Persian translations, viz. the Polyglot, and
    Sabat's two. He disapproved of them all. At Bushire, which is in
    Persia, the man of the greatest name was Sayyid Hosein. Of the
    three he liked Sabat's Persian best, but said it seemed written
    by an Indian. On my arrival at this place I produced my
    specimens once more. Sabat's Persian was much ridiculed;
    sarcastic remarks were made on the fondness for fine words so
    remarkable in the Indians, who seemed to think that hard words
    made fine writing. His Persic also was presently thrown aside,
    and to my no small surprise the old despised Polyglot was not
    only spoken of as superior to the rest, but it was asked, What
    fault is found in this?--this is the language we speak. The king
    has also signified that it is his wish that as little Arabic as
    possible may be employed in the papers presented to him. So that
    simple Persian is likely to become more and more fashionable.
    This is a change favourable certainly to our glorious cause. To
    the poor the Gospel will be preached. We began our work with
    the Gospel of St. John, and five chapters are put out of hand.
    It is likely to be the simplest thing imaginable; and I dare say
    the pedantic Arab will turn up his nose at it; but what the men
    of Shiraz approve who can gainsay? Let Sabat confine himself to
    the Arabic, and he will accomplish a great work. The
    forementioned Sayyid Hosein of Bushire is an Arab. I showed him
    Erpenius's Arabic Testament, the Christian Knowledge Society,
    Sabat's, and the Polyglot. After rejecting all but Sabat's, he
    said this is good, very good, and then read off the 5th of
    Matthew in a fine style, giving it unqualified commendation as
    he went along. On my proposing to him to give a specimen of what
    he thought the best Persian style, he consented; but, said he,
    give me this to translate from, laying his hand on Sabat's
    Arabic. At Muscat an Arab officer who had attended us as guard
    and guide one day when we walked into the country, came on board
    with his slave to take leave of us. The slave, who had argued
    with me very strenuously in favour of his religion, reminded me
    of a promise I had made him of giving him the Gospel. On my
    producing an Arabic New Testament, he seized it and began to
    read away upon deck, but presently stopped, and said it was not
    fine Arabic. However, he carried off the book.

In eight months the Persian translation of the New Testament was done.
The _Journal_, during that period, from July 1811 to February 1812, as
the sacred task went on, reveals the Holy Spirit moving the hearts of
the translator's Mohammedan assistant and Soofi disputants by 'the
things of Christ,' while it shows His servant bearing witness, by the
account of his own conversion, to His power to save and to make holy.

    _December 12._--Letters at last from India. Mirza Sayyid Ali
    was curious to know in what way we corresponded, and made me
    read Mr. Brown's letter to me, and mine to Corrie. He took care
    to let his friends know that we wrote nothing about our own
    affairs: it was all about translations and the cause of Christ.
    With this he was delighted.

    _December 16._--In translating 2 Cor. i. 22, 'Who hath given the
    earnest of the Spirit in our hearts,' he was much struck when it
    was explained to him. 'Oh, that I had it,' said he; 'have you
    received it?' I told him that, as I had no doubt of my
    acceptance through Christ, I concluded that I had. Once before,
    on the words, 'Who are saved?' he expressed his surprise at the
    confidence with which Christians spoke of salvation. On 1 Cor.
    xv. he observed, that the doctrine of the resurrection of the
    body was unreasonable; but that as the Mohammedans understood
    it, it was impossible; on which account the Soofis rejected it.

    _Christmas Day._--I made a great feast for the Russians and
    Armenians; and, at Jaffir Ali Khan's request, invited the Soofi
    master, with his disciples. I hoped there would be some
    conversation on the occasion of our meeting, and, indeed, Mirza
    Sayyid Ali did make some attempts, and explained to the old man
    the meaning of the Lord's Supper; but the sage maintaining his
    usual silence, the subject was dropped. I expressed my
    satisfaction at seeing them assembled on such an occasion, and
    my hope that they would remember the day in succeeding years,
    and that though they would never see me again in the succeeding
    years, they would not forget that I had brought them the Gospel.
    The old man coldly replied that 'God would guide those whom He
    chose.' Most of the time they continued was before dinner; the
    moment that was despatched, they rose and went away. The custom
    is, to sit five or six hours before dinner, and at great men's
    houses singers attend.

    _December 31._--The accounts of the desolations of war during
    the last year, which I have been reading in some Indian
    newspapers, make the world appear more gloomy than ever. How
    many souls hurried into eternity unprepared! How many thousands
    of widows and orphans left to mourn! But admire, my soul, the
    matchless power of God, that out of this ruin He has prepared
    for Himself an inheritance. At last the scene shall change, and
    I shall find myself in a world where all is love.

    _1812._--The last has been in some respects a memorable year. I
    have been led, by what I have reason to consider as the
    particular providence of God, to this place; and have undertaken
    an important work, which has gone on without material
    interruption, and is now nearly finished. I like to find myself
    employed usefully, in a way I did not expect or foresee,
    especially if my own will is in any degree crossed by the work
    unexpectedly assigned me, as there is then reason to believe
    that God is acting. The present year will probably be a perilous
    one, but my life is of little consequence, whether I live to
    finish the Persian New Testament or do not. I look back with
    pity and shame upon my former self, and on the importance I then
    attached to my life and labours. The more I see of my own works
    the more I am ashamed of them. Coarseness and clumsiness mar all
    the works of man. I am sick when I look at man and his wisdom
    and his doings, and am relieved only by reflecting that we have
    a city whose builder and maker is God. The least of _His_ works
    it is refreshing to look at. A dried leaf or a straw makes me
    feel myself in good company: complacency and admiration take
    place of disgust.

    I compared with pain our Persian translation with the original;
    to say nothing of the precision and elegance of the sacred text,
    its perspicuity is that which sets at defiance all attempts to
    equal it.

    _January 16._--Mirza Sayyid Ali told me accidentally to-day of a
    distich made by his friend Mirza Koochut, at Teheran, in honour
    of a victory gained by Prince Abbas Mirza over the Russians. The
    sentiment was, that he had killed so many of the Christians,
    that Christ, from the fourth heaven, took hold of Mahomet's
    skirt to entreat him to desist. I was cut to the soul at this
    blasphemy. In prayer I could think of nothing else but that
    great day when the Son of God shall come in the clouds of
    heaven, taking vengeance on them that know not God, and
    convincing men of all their hard speeches which they have spoken
    against Him.

    Mirza Sayyid Ali perceived that I was considerably disordered,
    and was sorry for having repeated the verse, but asked what it
    was that was so offensive. I told him that 'I could not endure
    existence if Jesus was not glorified; it would be hell to me if
    He were to be always thus dishonoured.' He was astonished, and
    again asked why. 'If anyone pluck out your eyes,' I replied,
    'there is no saying _why_ you feel pain; it is feeling. It is
    because I am one with Christ that I am thus dreadfully wounded.'
    On his again apologising, I told him that 'I rejoiced at what
    had happened, inasmuch as it made me feel nearer the Lord than
    ever. It is when the head or heart is struck, that every member
    feels its membership.' This conversation took place while we
    were translating. In the evening he mentioned the circumstance
    of a young man's being murdered--a fine athletic youth, whom I
    had often seen in the garden. Some acquaintance of his in a
    slight quarrel had plunged a dagger in his breast. Observing me
    look sorrowful, he asked why. 'Because,' said I, 'he was cut off
    in his sins, and had no time to repent.' 'It was just in that
    way,' said he, 'that I should like to die; not dragging out a
    miserable existence on a sick-bed, but transported at once into
    another state.' I observed that 'it was not desirable to be
    hurried into the immediate presence of God.' 'Do you think,'
    said he, 'that there is any difference in the presence of God
    here or there?' 'Indeed I do,' said I. 'Here we see through a
    glass darkly; but there, face to face.' He then entered into
    some metaphysical Soofi disputation about the identity of sin
    and holiness, heaven and hell: to all which I made no reply.

    _January 18._--Aga Ali of Media came: and with him and Mirza Ali
    I had a long and warm discussion about the essentials of
    Christianity. The Mede, seeing us at work upon the Epistles,
    said, 'he should be glad to read them; as for the Gospels they
    were nothing but tales, which were of no use to him; for
    instance,' said he, 'if Christ raised four hundred dead to life,
    what is that to me?' I said, 'it certainly was of importance,
    for His work furnished a reason for our depending upon His
    words.' 'What did He say,' asked he, 'that was not known before?
    the love of God, humility--who does not know these things?'
    'Were these things,' said I, 'known before Christ, either among
    Greeks or Romans, with all their philosophy?' They avowed that
    the Hindu book _Juh_ contained precepts of this kind. I
    questioned its antiquity; 'but however that may be,' I added,
    'Christ came not to _teach_ so much as to _die_; the truths I
    spoke of as confirmed by His miracles were those relating to His
    person, such as, "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy
    laden, and I will give you rest." Here Mirza Sayyid Ali told him
    that I had professed to have no doubt of my salvation. He asked
    what I meant. I told him, 'that though sin still remained, I was
    assured that it should not regain dominion; and that I should
    never come into condemnation, but was accepted in the Beloved.'
    Not a little surprised, he asked Mirza Sayyid Ali whether he
    comprehended this. 'No,' said he, 'nor Mirza Ibrahim, to whom I
    mentioned it.' The Mede again turning to me asked, 'How do you
    know this? how do you know you have experienced the second
    birth?' 'Because,' said I, 'we have the Spirit of the Father;
    what He wishes we wish; what He hates we hate.' Here he began to
    be a little more calm and less contentious, and mildly asked
    how I had obtained this peace of mind: 'Was it merely these
    books?' said he, taking up some of our sheets. I told him,
    'These books, with prayer.' 'What was the beginning of it,' said
    he, 'the society of some friends?' I related to him my religious
    history, the substance of which was, that I took my Bible before
    God in prayer, and prayed for forgiveness through Christ,
    assurance of it through His Spirit, and grace to obey His
    commandments. They then both asked whether the same benefit
    would be conferred on them. 'Yes,' said I, 'for so the Apostles
    preached, that all who were baptized in His name should receive
    the gift of the Holy Ghost.' 'Can you assure me,' said Mirza
    Sayyid Ali, 'that the Spirit will be given to me? if so, I will
    be baptized immediately.' 'Who am I that I should be surety?' I
    replied; 'I bring you this message from God, that he who,
    despairing of himself, rests for righteousness on the Son of
    God, shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost; and to this I can
    add my testimony, if that be worth anything, that I have found
    the promise fulfilled in myself. But if after baptism you should
    not find it so in you, accuse not the Gospel of falsehood. It is
    possible that your faith might not be sincere; indeed, so fully
    am I persuaded that you do not believe on the Son of God, that
    if you were to entreat ever so earnestly for baptism I should
    not dare to administer it at this time, when you have shown so
    many signs of an unhumbled heart.' 'What! would you have me
    believe,' said he, 'as a child?' 'Yes,' said I. 'True,' said he,
    'I think that is the only way.' Aga Ali said no more, except,
    'Certainly he is a good man!'

    _January 23._--Put on my English dress, and went to the
    Vizier's, to see part of the tragedy of Husain's death,[78]
    which they contrive to spin out so as to make it last the first
    ten days of the Mohurrum. All the apparatus consisted of a few
    boards for a stage, two tables and a pulpit, under an immense
    awning, in the court where the company were assembled. The
    _dramatis personæ_ were two; the daughter of Husain, whose part
    was performed by a boy, and a messenger; they both read their
    parts. Every now and then loud sobs were heard all over the
    court. After this several feats of activity were exhibited; the
    Vizier sat with the moollas. I was appointed to a seat where
    indeed I saw as much as I wanted, but which, I afterwards
    perceived, was not the place of honour. As I trust I am far
    enough from desiring the chief seats in the synagogues, there
    was nothing in this that could offend me; but I do not think it
    right to let him have another opportunity of showing a slight to
    my country in my person.

    _January 24._--Found Sayyid Ali rather serious this evening. He
    said he did not know what to do to have his mind made up about
    religion. Of all the religions Christ's was the best; but
    whether to prefer this to Soofi-ism he could not tell. In these
    doubts he is tossed to and fro, and is often kept awake the
    whole night in tears. He and his brother talk together on these
    things till they are almost crazed. Before he was engaged in
    this work of translation, he says he used to read about two or
    three hours a day, now he can do nothing else; has no
    inclination for anything else, and feels unhappy if he does not
    correct his daily portion. His late employment has given a new
    turn to his thoughts as well as to those of his friends; they
    had not the most distant conception of the contents of the New
    Testament. He says his Soofi friends are exceedingly anxious to
    see the Epistles, from the accounts he gives of them, and also
    he is sure that almost the whole of Shiraz are so sensible of
    the load of unmeaning ceremonies in which their religion
    consists, that they will rejoice to see or hear of anything like
    freedom, and that they would be more willing to embrace Christ
    than the Soofis, who, after taking so much pains to be
    independent of all law, would think it degrading to submit
    themselves to any law again, however light.

    _February 2._--From what I suffer in this city, I can understand
    the feelings of Lot. The face of the poor Russian appears to me
    like the face of an angel, because he does not tell lies. Heaven
    will be heaven because there will not be one liar there. The
    Word of God is more precious to me at this time than I ever
    remember it to have been; and of all the promises in it, none is
    more sweet to me than this--'He shall reign till He hath put all
    enemies under His feet.'

    _February 3._--A packet arrived from India without a single
    letter for me. It was some disappointment to me: but let me be
    satisfied with my God, and if I cannot have the comfort of
    hearing from my friends, let me return with thankfulness to His
    Word, which is a treasure of which none envy me the possession,
    and where I can find what will more than compensate for the loss
    of earthly enjoyments. Resignation to the will of God is a
    lesson which I must learn, and which I trust He is teaching me.

    _February 9._--Aga Boozong came. After much conversation, he
    said, 'Prove to me, from the beginning, that Christianity is the
    way: how will you proceed? what do you say must be done?' 'If
    you would not believe a person who wrought a miracle before
    you,' said I, 'I have nothing to say; I cannot proceed a step.'
    'I will grant you,' said Sayyid Ali, 'that Christ was the Son of
    God, and more than that.' 'That you despair of yourself, and are
    willing to trust in Him alone for salvation?' 'Yes.' 'And are
    ready to confess Christ before men, and act conformably to His
    Word?' 'Yes: what else must I do?' 'Be baptized in the name of
    Christ.' 'And what shall I gain?' 'The gift of the Holy Ghost.
    The end of faith is salvation in the world to come; but even
    here you shall have the Spirit to purify your heart, and to give
    you the assurance of everlasting happiness.' Thus Aga Boozong
    had an opportunity of hearing those strange things from my own
    mouth, of which he had been told by his disciple the Mede. 'You
    can say too,' said he, 'that you have received the Spirit?' I
    told them I believed I had; 'for, notwithstanding all my sins,
    the bent of my heart was to God in a way it never was before;
    and that, according to my present feeling, I could not be happy
    if God was not glorified, and if I had not the enjoyment of His
    presence, for which I felt that I was now educating.' Aga
    Boozong shed tears.

    After this came Aga Ali, the Mede, to hear, as he said, some of
    the sentences of Paul. Mirza Sayyid Ali had told them, 'that if
    they had read nothing but the Gospels, they knew nothing of the
    religion of Christ.' The sheet I happened to have by me was the
    one containing the fourth, fifth, and sixth chapters of the
    Second Epistle to the Corinthians, which Aga Ali read out.

    At this time the company had increased considerably. I desired
    Aga Ali to notice particularly the latter part of the fifth
    chapter, 'God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto
    Himself.' He then read it a second time, but they saw not its
    glory; however, they spoke in high terms of the pith and
    solidity of Paul's sentences. They were evidently on the watch
    for anything that tallied with their own sentiments. Upon the
    passage, 'Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord
    Jesus,' the Mede observed, 'Do you not see that Jesus was in
    Paul, and that Paul was only another name for Jesus?' And the
    text, 'Whether we be beside ourselves, it is to God; and whether
    we be sober, it is for your sakes,' they interpreted thus: 'We
    are absorbed in the contemplation of God, and when we recover,
    it is to instruct you.'

    Walking afterwards with Mirza Sayyid Ali, he told me how much
    one of my remarks had affected him, namely, that he had no
    humility. He had been talking about simplicity and humility as
    characteristic of the Soofis. 'Humility!' I said to him, 'if you
    were humble, you would not dispute in this manner; you would be
    like a child.' He did not open his mouth afterwards, but to say,
    'True; I have no humility.' In evident distress, he observed,
    'The truth is, we are in a state of compound
    ignorance--ignorant, yet ignorant of our ignorance.'

    _February 18._--While walking in the garden, in some disorder
    from vexation, two Mussulman Jews came up and asked me what
    would become of them in another world. The Mahometans were right
    in their way, they supposed, and we in ours, but what must they
    expect? After rectifying their mistake as to the Mahometans, I
    mentioned two or three reasons for believing that we are right:
    such as their dispersion, and the cessation of sacrifices
    immediately on the appearance of Jesus. 'True, true,' they said,
    with great feeling and seriousness; indeed, they seemed disposed
    to yield assent to anything I said. They confessed they had
    become Mahometans only on compulsion, and that Abdoolghuni
    wished to go to Baghdad, thinking he might throw off the mask
    there with safety, but they asked what I thought. I said that
    the Governor was a Mahometan. 'Did I think Syria safer?' 'The
    safest place in the East,' I said, 'was India.' Feelings of pity
    for God's ancient people, and having the awful importance of
    eternal things impressed on my mind by the seriousness of their
    inquiries as to what would become of them, relieved me from the
    pressure of my comparatively insignificant distresses. I, a poor
    Gentile, blest, honoured, and loved; secured for ever by the
    everlasting covenant, whilst the children of the kingdom are
    still lying in outer darkness! Well does it become me to be
    thankful!

    This is my birthday, on which I complete my thirty-first year.
    The Persian New Testament has been begun, and I may say finished
    in it, as only the last eight chapters of the Revelation remain.
    Such a painful year I never passed, owing to the privations I
    have been called to on the one hand, and the spectacle before me
    of human depravity on the other. But I hope that I have not
    come to this seat of Satan in vain. The Word of God has found
    its way into Persia, and it is not in Satan's power to oppose
    its progress if the Lord hath sent it.

A week after, on February 24, 1812, Henry Martyn corrected the last
page of the New Testament in Persian. As we read his words of
thanksgiving to the Lord and his invocation of the Holy Spirit, in the
already darkening light of his approaching end, before the beatific
vision promised by the Master to the pure in heart, and the blessed
companionship with Himself guaranteed to every true servant, we recall
the Scottish Columba, whose last act was to transcribe the eleventh
verse of the thirty-fourth Psalm, and the English Bede, who died when
translating the ninth verse of the sixth chapter of St. John's Gospel.

    I have many mercies for which to thank the Lord, and this is not
    the least. Now may that Spirit who gave the Word, and called me,
    I trust, to be an interpreter of it, graciously and powerfully
    apply it to the hearts of sinners, even to the gathering an
    elect people from amongst the long-estranged Persians!

FOOTNOTES:

[66] 'That list, in which Martyn holds a conspicuous place, has grown
long of late years, till we are half tempted to forget that the share
our age has taken and is taking in the work of translating and
distributing the Scriptures, links on to that of those who could
remember men who had seen the Lord.' Canon Edmonds' _Sermon_, preached
in the Cathedral Church of Truro, October 16, 1890 (Exeter).

[67] _The Churchman_ for September 1889, p. 635.

[68] See p. 314.

[69] Evidently taken in detail from Adam's _Religious World Displayed_.

[70] Fourth edition, London, 1822.

[71] _Fortieth Report of the British and Foreign Bible Society_, p.
97.

[72] _The Bible of Every Land_ (Bagster), 1848.

[73] See _Contributions Towards a History of Biblical Translations in
India_. Calcutta and London (Dalton), 1854.

[74] _Monograph on Hindustani Versions of the Old and New Testaments_,
by the Rev. R.C. Mather, LL.D. (without date).

[75] _The Life of Rev. T.T. Thomason, M.A._, by the late Rev. J.
Sargent, M.A., second edition, Seeley's, 1834.

[76] Dr. Milner, Dr. Rumsden, Dr. Jowett, Mr. Farish (Charles Simeon's
writing).

[77] _Christian Researches in Asia, with Notices of the Translation of
the Scriptures into the Oriental Languages_, by the Rev. Claudius
Buchanan, D.D., 10th edition, London, 1814.

[78] See _The Miracle Play of Hasan and Husain_, collected from Oral
Tradition, by Sir Lewis Pelly, two vols. 1879.



CHAPTER XII

SHIRAZ TO TABREEZ--THE PERSIAN NEW TESTAMENT


The next three months were spent, still in Shiraz, in the preparation of
copies of the precious Persian MS. of the New Testament, and in very
close spiritual intercourse with the company of inquirers whom neither
fanaticism, conceit, nor, in some cases, a previously immoral life, had
prevented from reverencing the teaching of the man of God. Jaffir Ali
Khan's garden became to such a holy place, as the Persian spring passed
into the heat of summer. There the privileged translator, Mirza Sayyid
Ali; Aga Baba, the Mede; Aga Boozong, vizier of Prince Abbas Mirza, and
'most magisterial of the Soofis;' Mirza Ibrahim, the controversialist
leader; Sheikh Abulhassan, and many a moolla to whom he testified that
Christ was the Creator and Saviour, gathered round him as he read, 'at
their request,' the Old Testament histories. 'Their attention to the
Word, and their love and attention to me, seemed to increase as the time
of my departure approached. Aga Baba, who had been reading St. Matthew,
related very circumstantially to the company the particulars of the
death of Christ. The bed of roses on which we sat, and the notes of the
nightingales warbling around us, were not so sweet to me as this
discourse from the Persian.'

    Telling Mirza Sayyid Ali one day that I wished to return to the
    city in the evening, to be alone and at leisure for prayer, he
    said with seriousness, 'Though a man had no other religious
    society I suppose he might, with the aid of the Bible, live
    alone with God?' This solitude will, in one respect, be his own
    state soon;--may he find it the medium of God's gracious
    communications to his soul! He asked in what way God ought to be
    addressed: I told him as a Father, with respectful love; and
    added some other exhortations on the subject of prayer.

    _May 11._--Aga Baba came to bid me farewell, which he did in the
    best and most solemn way, by asking, as a final question,
    'whether, independently of external evidences, I had any
    internal proofs of the doctrine of Christ?' I answered, 'Yes,
    undoubtedly: the change from what I once was is a sufficient
    evidence to me.' At last he took his leave, in great sorrow, and
    what is better, apparently in great solicitude about his soul.

    The rest of the day I continued with Mirza Sayyid Ali, giving
    him instructions what to do with the New Testament in case of my
    decease, and exhorting him, as far as his confession allowed me,
    to stand fast. He had made many a good resolution respecting his
    besetting sins. I hope, as well as pray, that some lasting
    effects may be seen at Shiraz from the Word of God left among
    them.

For the Shah and for the heir-apparent, Prince Abbas Mirza, two copies
of the Persian New Testament were specially written out in the perfect
caligraphy which the Persians love, and carefully corrected with the
translator's own hand. That he might himself present them, especially
the former, he left Shiraz on May 11, 1812, after a year's residence
in the country. The whole length of the great Persian plateau had to
be traversed, by Ispahan to Teheran, thence to the royal camp at
Sultania, and finally to Tabreez, where was Sir Gore Ouseley, the
British ambassador, through whom alone the English man of God could
be introduced to the royal presence. He was accompanied by Mr.
Canning, an English clergyman.

The journey occupied eight weeks, and proved to be one of extreme
hardship, which rapidly developed Henry Martyn's disease. At one time
his life was in danger, in spite of the letters which he carried from
General Malcolm's friend, and now his own, Jaffir Ali Khan, to the
Persian prime minister at Teheran. Mrs. Bishop's experience of travel
by the same road[79] at a more favourable season, over the 'great mud
land' to which centuries of misrule have changed the populous paradise
of Darius, enables us to imagine what the brief record of the
_Journal_ only half reveals seventy years ago. The old village which
the founder of the Kajar dynasty enlarged into Teheran, straggles
within eleven miles of walls in the most depressed part of an
uninteresting waste. Save for the exterior of the Shah's palace, and
those of some of his ministers, the suburb with the European
legations, and now the large and handsome buildings of the American
Presbyterian Mission, it is unworthy of being a capital city. Eager to
present the sacred volume while life was left to him, Henry Martyn
hurried away to find Mirza Shufi, the premier, and the Shah, who were
in camp a night's journey off at Karach.

    _May 13._--Remained all day at the caravanserai, correcting the
    Prince's copy.

    _May 14._--Continued our journey through two ridges of mountains
    to Imanzadu: no cultivation to be seen anywhere, nor scarcely
    any natural vegetable production, except the broom and
    hawthorn. The weather was rather tempestuous, with cold gusts of
    wind and rain. We were visited by people who came to be cured of
    their distempers.

    _May 16._--We found a hoar frost, and ice on the pools. The
    excessive cold at this place is accounted for by its being the
    highest land between the Persian Gulf and the Caspian Sea. The
    baggage not having come up, we were obliged to pass another day
    in this uncomfortable neighbourhood, where nothing was to be
    procured for ourselves or our horses, the scarcity of rain this
    year having left the ground destitute of verdure, and the poor
    people of the village near us having nothing to sell.

    _May 21._--Finished the revision of the Prince's copy. At eleven
    at night we started for Ispahan, where we arrived soon after
    sunrise on the 22nd, and were accommodated in one of the king's
    palaces. Found my old Shiraz scribe here, and corrected with him
    the Prince's copy.

    _May 23._--Called on the Armenian bishops at Julfa, and met
    Matteus. He is certainly vastly superior to any Armenian I have
    yet seen. We next went to the Italian missionary, Joseph
    Carabiciate, a native of Aleppo, but educated at Rome. He spoke
    Latin very sprightly, considering his age, which was sixty-six,
    but discovered no sort of inclination to talk about religion.
    Until lately he had been supported by the Propaganda; but weary
    at last of exercising his functions without remuneration, and
    even without the necessary provision, he talked of returning to
    Aleppo.

    _May 24._ (Sunday.)--Went early this morning to the Armenian
    church attached to the episcopal residence. Within the rails
    were two out of the four bishops, and other ecclesiastics, but
    in the body of the church only three people. Most of the
    Armenians at Julfa, which is now reduced to five hundred houses,
    attended at their respective parish churches, of which there
    are twelve, served by twenty priests. After their pageantry was
    over, and we were satisfied with processions, ringing of bells,
    waving of colours, and other ceremonies, which were so numerous
    as entirely to remove all semblance of spiritual worship, we
    were condemned to witness a repetition of the same mockery at
    the Italian's church, at his request. I could not stand it out,
    but those who did observed that the priest ate and drank all the
    consecrated elements himself, and gave none to the few poor
    women who composed his congregation, and who, the Armenian said,
    had been hired for the occasion.

    Before returning to Ispahan we sat a short time in the garden
    with the bishops. They, poor things, had nothing to say, and
    could scarcely speak Persian; so that all the conversation was
    between me and Matteus. At my request he brought what he had of
    the Holy Scriptures in Persian and Arabic. They were Wheloi's
    Persian Gospels, and an Arabic version of the Gospels printed at
    Rome. I tried in vain to bring him to any profitable discussion;
    with more sense than his brethren, he is not more advanced in
    spiritual knowledge. Returned much disappointed. Julfa had
    formerly twenty bishops and about one hundred clergy, with
    twenty-four churches.

    _June 2._--Soon after midnight we mounted our horses. It was a
    mild moonlight night and a nightingale filled the whole valley
    with his notes. Our way was along lanes, over which the wood on
    each side formed a canopy, and a murmuring rivulet accompanied
    us till it was lost in a lake. At daylight we emerged into the
    plain of Kashan, which seems to be a part of the great Salt
    Desert. On our arrival at the king's garden, where we intended
    to put up, we were at first refused admittance, but an
    application to the Governor was soon attended to. We saw here
    huge snowy mountains on the north-east beyond Teheran.

    _June 5._--Reached Kum;[80] the country uniformly desolate. The
    chief Moojtahid in all Persia, being a resident of this city, I
    sent to know if a visit would be agreeable to him. His reply
    was, that if I had any business with him I might come; but if
    otherwise, his age and infirmities must be his excuse. Intending
    to travel a double stage, started soon after sunset.

    _June 8._--Arrived, two hours before daybreak, at the walls of
    Teheran. I spread my bed upon the high road, and slept till the
    gates were open; then entered the city, and took up my abode at
    the ambassador's house.

    I lost no time in forwarding Jaffir Ali Khan's letter to the
    premier, who sent to desire that I would come to him. I found
    him lying ill in the verandah of the king's tent of audience.
    Near him were sitting two persons, who, I was afterwards
    informed, were Mirza Khantar and Mirza Abdoolwahab; the latter
    being a secretary of state and a great admirer of the Soofi
    sage. They took very little notice, not rising when I sat down,
    as is their custom to all who sit with them; nor offering me
    kalean. The two secretaries, on learning my object in coming,
    began a conversation with me on religion and metaphysics, which
    lasted two hours. As they were both well-educated, gentlemanly
    men, the discussion was temperate, and, I hope, useful.

    _June 12._--I attended the Vizier's levée, where there was a
    most intemperate and clamorous controversy kept up for an hour
    or two; eight or ten on one side, and I on the other. Amongst
    them were two moollas, the most ignorant of any I have yet met
    with in either Persia or India. It would be impossible to
    enumerate all the absurd things they said. Their vulgarity in
    interrupting me in the middle of a speech; their utter ignorance
    of the nature of an argument; their impudent assertions about
    the law and the Gospel, neither of which they had ever seen in
    their lives, moved my indignation a little. I wished, and I said
    it would have been well, if Mirza Abdoolwahab had been there; I
    should then have had a man of sense to argue with. The Vizier,
    who set us going at first, joined in it latterly, and said, 'You
    had better say God is God, and Muhammad is the prophet of God.'
    I said, 'God is God,' but added, instead of 'Muhammad is the
    prophet of God,' 'and Jesus is the Son of God.' They had no
    sooner heard this, which I had avoided bringing forward till
    then, than they all exclaimed, in contempt and anger, 'He is
    neither born nor begets,' and rose up, as if they would have
    torn me in pieces. One of them said, 'What will you say when
    your tongue is burnt out for this blasphemy?'

    One of them felt for me a little, and tried to soften the
    severity of this speech. My book, which I had brought expecting
    to present it to the king, lay before Mirza Shufi. As they all
    rose up after him to go, some to the king and some away, I was
    afraid they would trample on the book; so I went in among them
    to take it up, and wrapped it in a towel before them, while they
    looked at it and me with supreme contempt. Thus I walked away
    alone in my tent, to pass the rest of the day in heat and dirt.
    What have I done, thought I, to merit all this scorn? Nothing, I
    trust, but bearing testimony to Jesus. I thought over these
    things in prayer, and my troubled heart found that peace which
    Christ hath promised to His disciples.

    To complete the trials of the day, a message came from the
    Vizier in the evening, to say that it was the custom of the king
    not to see any Englishman, unless presented by the ambassador,
    or accredited by a letter from him, and that I must, therefore,
    wait till the king reached Sultania, where the ambassador would
    be.

    _June 13._--Disappointed of my object in coming to the camp, I
    lost no time in leaving it, and proceeded in company with Mr.
    Canning, who had just joined me from Teheran, towards Kasbin,
    intending there to wait the result of an application to the
    ambassador. Started at eleven, and travelled till eleven next
    morning, having gone ten parasangs or forty miles, to Quishlang.
    The country all along was well watered and cultivated. The mules
    being too much tired to proceed, we passed the day at the
    village; indeed, we all wanted rest. As I sat down in the dust,
    on the shady side of a walled village by which we passed, and
    surveyed the plains over which our road lay, I sighed at the
    thought of my dear friends in India and England, of the vast
    regions I must traverse before I can get to either, and of the
    various and unexpected hindrances which present themselves to my
    going forward. I comfort myself with the hope that my God has
    something for me to do, by thus delaying my exit.

    _June 22._--We met with the usual insulting treatment at the
    caravanserai, where the king's servants had got possession of a
    good room, built for the reception of the better order of
    guests; they seemed to delight in the opportunity of humbling an
    European. Sultania is still but a village, yet the Zengan prince
    has quartered himself and all his attendants, with their horses,
    on this poor little village. All along the road, where the king
    is expected, the people are patiently waiting, as for some
    dreadful disaster; plague, pestilence, or famine is nothing to
    the misery of being subject to the violence and extortion of
    this rabble soldiery.

    _June 25._ (Zengan.)--After a restless night, rose so ill with
    the fever that I could not go on. My companion, Mr. Canning, was
    nearly in the same state. We touched nothing all day.

    _June 26._--After such another night I had determined to go on,
    but Mr. Canning declared himself unable to stir, so here we
    dragged through another miserable day. What added to our
    distress was that we were in danger, if detained here another
    day or two, of being absolutely in want of the necessaries of
    life before reaching Tabreez. We made repeated applications to
    the moneyed people, but none would advance a piastre. Where are
    the people who flew forth to meet General Malcolm with their
    purses and their lives? Another generation is risen up, 'who
    know not Joseph.' Providentially a poor muleteer, arriving from
    Tabreez, became security for us, and thus we obtained five
    tomans. This was a heaven-send; and we lay down quietly, free
    from apprehensions of being obliged to go a fatiguing journey of
    eight or ten hours, without a house or village in the way, in
    our present weak and reduced state. We had now eaten nothing for
    two days. My mind was much disordered from head-ache and
    giddiness, from which I was seldom free; but my heart, I trust,
    was with Christ and His saints. To live much longer in this
    world of sickness and pain seemed no way desirable; the most
    favourite prospects of my heart seemed very poor and childish;
    and cheerfully would I have exchanged them all for the unfading
    inheritance.

    _June 27._--My Armenian servant was attacked in the same way.
    The rest did not get me the things that I wanted, so that I
    passed the third day in the same exhausted state; my head, too,
    was tortured with shocking pains, such as, together with the
    horror I felt at being exposed to the sun, showed me plainly to
    what to ascribe my sickness. Towards evening, two more of our
    servants were attacked in the same way, and lay groaning from
    pains in the head.

    _June 28._--All were much recovered, but in the afternoon I
    again relapsed. During a high fever Mr. Canning read to me in
    bed the Epistle to the Ephesians, and I never felt the
    consolations of that Divine revelation of mysteries more
    sensibly and solemnly. Rain in the night prevented our setting
    off.

    _June 29._--My ague and fever returned, with such a head-ache
    that I was almost frantic. Again and again I said to myself,
    'Let patience have her perfect work,' and kept pleading the
    promises, 'When thou passest through the waters I will be with
    thee,' etc.; and the Lord did not withhold His presence. I
    endeavoured to repel all the disordered thoughts that the fever
    occasioned, and to keep in mind that all was friendly; a
    friendly Lord presiding; and nothing exercising me but what
    would show itself at last friendly. A violent perspiration at
    last relieved the acute pain in my head, and my heart rejoiced;
    but as soon as that was over, the exhaustion it occasioned,
    added to the fatigue from the pain, left me in as low a state of
    depression as ever I was in. I seemed about to sink into a long
    fainting fit, and I almost wished it; but at this moment, a
    little after midnight, I was summoned to mount my horse, and set
    out, rather dead than alive. We moved on six parasangs. We had a
    thunder-storm with hail.

    _July 1._--A long and tiresome march to Sarehund; in seven
    parasangs there was no village. They had nothing to sell but
    buttermilk and bread; but a servant of Abbas Mirza, happening to
    be at the same caravanserai, sent us some flesh of a mountain
    cow which he had shot the day before. All day I had scarcely the
    right recollection of myself from the violence of the ague. We
    have now reached the end of the level ground which we have had
    all the way from Teheran, and are approaching the boundaries of
    Parthia and Media; a most natural boundary it is, as the two
    ridges of mountains we have had on the left and right come round
    and form a barrier.

    _July 2._--At two in the morning we set out. I hardly know when
    I have been so disordered. I had little or no recollection of
    things, and what I did remember at times of happy scenes in
    India or England, served only to embitter my present situation.
    Soon after removing into the air I was seized with a violent
    ague, and in this state I went on till sunrise. At three
    parasangs and a half we found a fine caravanserai, apparently
    very little used, as the grass was growing in the court. There
    was nothing all round but the barren rocks, which generally
    roughen the country before the mountain rears its height. Such
    an edifice in such a situation was cheering. Soon after we came
    to a river, over which was a high bridge; I sat down in the
    shade under it, with two camel drivers. The kafila, as it
    happened, forded the river, and passed on without my perceiving
    it. Mr. Canning seeing no signs of me, returned, and after
    looking about for some time, espied my horse grazing; he
    concluded immediately that the horse had flung me from the
    bridge into the river, and was almost ready to give me up for
    lost. My speedy appearance from under the bridge relieved his
    terror and anxiety. Half the people still continue ill; for
    myself, I am, through God's infinite mercy, recovering.

    _July 4._--I so far prevailed as to get the kafila into motion
    at midnight. Lost our way in the night, but arriving at a
    village we were set right again. At eight came to Kilk
    caravanserai, but not stopping there, went on to a village,
    where we arrived at half-past nine. The baggage not coming up
    till long after, we got no breakfast till one o'clock. In
    consequence of all these things, want of sleep, want of
    refreshment, and exposure to the sun, I was presently in a high
    fever, which raged so furiously all the day that I was nearly
    delirious, and it was some time before I could get the right
    recollection of myself. I almost despaired, and do now, of
    getting alive through this unfortunate journey. Last night I
    felt remarkably well, calm and composed, and sat reflecting on
    my heavenly rest, with more sweetness of soul, abstraction from
    the world, and solemn views of God, than I have had for a long
    time. Oh, for such sacred hours! This short and painful life
    would scarcely be felt could I live thus at heaven's gate. It
    being impossible to continue my journey in my present state,
    and one of the servants also being so ill that he could not move
    with safety, we determined to halt one day at the village, and
    sent on a messenger to Sir Gore, at Tabreez, informing him of
    our approach.

    _July 5._--As soon as it was day we found our way to the village
    where the Doctor was waiting for us. Not being able to stay for
    us, he went on to Tabreez, and we as far as Wasmuch, where he
    promised to procure for us a fine upper room furnished; but when
    we arrived, they denied that there was any such a place. At
    last, after an hour's threatening, we got admittance to it. An
    hour before break of day I left it, in hopes of reaching Tabreez
    before sunrise. Some of the people seemed to feel compassion for
    me, and asked me if I was not very ill. At last I reached the
    gate, and feebly asked for a man to show me the way to the
    ambassador's.

    _July 9._--Made an extraordinary effort, and as a Tartar was
    going off instantly to Constantinople, wrote letters to Mr.
    Grant for permission to come to England, and to Mr. Simeon and
    Lydia, informing them of it; but I have scarcely the remotest
    expectation of seeing it, except by looking at the almighty
    power of God.

    Dined at night at the ambassador's, who said he was determined
    to give every possible _éclat_ to my book, by presenting it
    himself to the king. My fever never ceased to rage till the
    21st, during all which time every effort was made to subdue it,
    till I had lost all my strength and almost all my reason. They
    now administer bark, and it may please God to bless the tonics;
    but I seem too far gone, and can only say, 'having a desire to
    depart and be with Christ, which is far better.'

                         TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                             Tabreez: July 12, 1812.

    My dearest Lydia,--I have only time to say that I have received
    your letter of February 14. Shall I pain your heart by adding,
    that I am in such a state of sickness and pain, that I can
    hardly write to you? Let me rather observe, to obviate the
    gloomy apprehension my letters to Mr. Grant and Mr. Simeon may
    excite, that I am likely soon to be delivered from my fever.
    Whether I shall gain strength enough to go on, rests on our
    Heavenly Father, in whose hands are all my times. Oh, His
    precious grace! His eternal unchanging love in Christ to my soul
    never appeared more clear, more sweet, more strong. I ought to
    inform you that in consequence of the state to which I am
    reduced by travelling so far overland, without having half
    accomplished my journey, and the consequent impossibility of
    returning to India the same way, I have applied for leave to
    come on furlough to England. Perhaps you will be gratified by
    this intelligence; but oh, my dear Lydia, I must faithfully tell
    you that the probability of my reaching England alive is but
    small; and this I say, that your expectations of seeing me again
    may be moderate, as mine are of seeing you. Why have you not
    written more about yourself? However, I am thankful for knowing
    that you are alive and well. I scarcely know how to desire you
    to direct. Perhaps Alexandria in Egypt will be the best place;
    another may be sent to Constantinople, for though I shall not go
    there, I hope Mr. Morier will be kept informed of my movements.
    Kindest love to all the saints you usually mention. Yours ever
    most faithfully and affectionately,

                                                          H. MARTYN.


                       TO REV. C. SIMEON

                                             Tabreez: July 12, 1812.

    My dearest Friend and Brother,--The Tartar courier for
    Constantinople, who has been delayed some days on our account,
    being to be despatched instantly, my little strength also being
    nearly exhausted by writing to Mr. Grant a letter to be laid
    before the court: I have only to notice some of the particulars
    of your letter of February of this year. It is not now before
    me, neither have I strength to search for it among my papers;
    but from the frequent attentive perusals I gave it during my
    intervals of ease, I do not imagine that any of it has escaped
    my memory. At present I am in a high fever, and cannot properly
    recollect myself. I shall ever love and be grateful to Mr.
    Thornton for his kind attention to my family.

    The increase of godly young men is precious news. If I sink into
    the grave in India, my place will be supplied an hundredfold.
    You will learn from Mr. Grant that I have applied for leave to
    come to England on furlough; a measure you will disapprove; but
    you would not, were you to see the pitiable condition to which I
    am reduced, and knew what it is to traverse the continent of
    Asia in the destitute state in which I am. If you wish not to
    see me, I can say that I think it most probable that you will
    not; the way before me being not better than that passed over,
    which has nearly killed me.

    I would not pain your heart, my dear brother, but we who are in
    Jesus have the privilege of viewing life and death as nearly the
    same, since both are one; and I thank a gracious Lord that
    sickness never came at a time when I was more free from apparent
    reasons for living. Nothing seemingly remains for me to do but
    to follow the rest of my family to the tomb. Let not the book
    written against Muhammadanism be published till approved in
    India. A European who has not lived amongst them cannot imagine
    how differently they see, imagine, reason, object, from what we
    do. This I had full opportunity of observing during my eleven
    months' residence at Shiraz. During that time I was engaged in a
    written controversy with one of the most learned and temperate
    doctors there. He began. I replied what was unanswerable, then I
    subjoined a second more direct attack on the glaring absurdities
    of Muhammadanism, with a statement of the nature and evidences
    of Christianity. The Soofis then as well as himself desired a
    demonstration, from the very beginning, of the truth of any
    revelation. As this third treatise contained an examination of
    the doctrine of the Soofis, and pointed out that their object
    was attainable by the Gospel, and by that only, it was read with
    interest and convinced many. There is not a single Europeanism
    in the whole that I know of, as my friend and interpreter would
    not write anything that he could not perfectly comprehend. But I
    am exhausted; pray for me, beloved brother, and believe that I
    am, as long as life and recollection lasts, yours
    affectionately,

                                                          H. MARTYN.


                                                  Tabreez: August 8.

    My dearest Brother and Friend,--Ever since I wrote, about a
    month, I believe, I have been lying upon the bed of sickness;
    for twenty days or more the fever raged with great violence, and
    for a long time every species of medicine was tried in vain.
    After I had given up every hope of recovery, it pleased God to
    abate the fever, but incessant head-aches succeeded, which
    allowed me no rest day or night. I was reduced still lower, and
    am now a mere skeleton; but as they are now less frequent, I
    suppose it to be the will of God that I should be raised up to
    life again. I am now sitting in my chair, and wrote the will
    with a strong hand; but as you see I cannot write so now.
    Kindest love to Mr. John Thornton, for whose temporal and
    spiritual prosperity I daily pray.--Your ever affectionate
    friend and brother,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

Lydia Grenfell's letter, to which Martyn's of July 12, written in such
circumstances, is a reply, was really dated February 1, 1812, and was
the last received from her by him. Her _Diary_ notes that she 'wrote
to India, August 30, September 30, 1812'; and on December 12 of that
year, thus remarks on his letter of July 12:

    Heard from Tabreez from Mr. Martyn with an account of his
    dangerous state of health and intention of returning to England
    if his life was spared. This intelligence affected me variously.
    The probability of his death, the certainty of his extreme
    sufferings, and distance from every friend, pressed heavily on
    my spirits; I was enabled to pray, and felt relieved. Of his
    return no very sanguine expectations can be entertained.
    Darkness and distress of mind have followed this information. I
    cannot collect my thoughts to write, or apply as I ought to
    anything. Oh, let me consider this as a call to prayer and
    watchfulness and self-examination. Lord, assist me!

    _December 16._--A season of great temptation, darkness, and
    distress. At no period of my life have I stood more in need of
    Divine help, and oh! may I earnestly seek it. Lord, I would
    pray, give me a right understanding, and enable me seriously to
    consider and weigh in the balance of the sanctuary all I
    do--yea, let my thoughts be watched. Sleep has fled from mine
    eyes, and a fearful looking for of trial and affliction, however
    this affair ends, possesses my mind. Oh! let me cast my burden
    on the Lord--it is too heavy for me. Lord, let me begin afresh
    to call upon Thy name, and, taking hold of Thee, I shall be
    borne up above my trials, carried through the difficulties I
    see before me, and be delivered.

    _December 17._--I desire, O Thou blessed God, to seek Thy face,
    to call on Thy name. Thou hast been my refuge; I have been happy
    in the sense of Thy love. With all my sins, my weaknesses and
    miseries, I come to Thee, and most seriously would I seek Thy
    guidance in the perplexing and difficult circumstances I am in.
    O Lord, suffer me not to run counter to Thy will nor to
    dishonour Thee.

    _December 25._--Bless the Lord, O my soul; bless His holy name
    for ever and ever. I sought the Lord in my distress, and He gave
    ear unto me. Gracious and merciful art Thou, O Lord, for Thou
    didst bend Thine ear to the most worthless of all creatures.
    This is for the glory of Thy name alone, to show how great Thy
    mercy is, how sure Thy truth. After a night of clouds and
    darkness, behold the clear sky.

    _December 26._--This joyful, holy season calls upon me for fresh
    praises, and a renewed dedication of myself to God. I rejoice in
    believing Christ was born; I rejoice in the end proposed of His
    appearance in the flesh, the recovery of mankind to holiness and
    to God. I welcome this salvation as that I most desire. My
    happiness, I know, consists in holiness and in the favour of
    God. Thought much to-day of my dear friend. I cannot think of
    him as having gained the heavenly crown, but as struggling with
    dangers and difficulties. Secure in them all of Thy favour, and
    defended by Thy power, he is safe, and pass but a few years or
    days, and he will enter into the rest of God. Let me, too,
    follow after him as he follows Christ.

    _1813, January 4._--After a night and day spent in great
    conflict and agony of mind, I, this evening, enjoy a respite
    from distressing apprehensions. I was reduced to the lowest, as
    to animal spirits and spiritual life, when it occurred to me I
    would go to the meeting, where I found a sweet--oh, may it be a
    lasting! relief from my cares. Having better things proposed
    for my consideration, my burden has chiefly been from a sense of
    inward weakness and a conviction of having lost the presence of
    God. The state of my beloved friend less occupies my mind than I
    sometimes think is reconcilable with a true affection for him;
    but the truth is, the concerns of my soul are the more pressing.
    Oh! may this trial truly answer this purpose of driving me to
    God, my refuge and rest.

    _January 6._--Still harassed and without strength to resist. I
    seem divested of the Spirit, yet, oh, let me not give way to
    this! I will try, as a helpless sinner, to seek Divine aid. Thou
    canst command peace within and increase my faith. I am amazed at
    the state of my mind--instead of having my thoughts exercised
    about my dear friend, I am filled with distressing fears for my
    soul, and left so to myself that all I can do is to pray for the
    Lord to return and lift upon me the light of His countenance. O
    Thou blessed Redeemer! hear my sighs and put my tears into Thy
    bottle. My wanderings are noted down in Thy book. Oh, have pity
    on my wretched state and revive Thy work, increase my faith.
    Thou art the resurrection and the life--let me rest on this
    Scripture.

    _February 1._--My beloved friend remembered every hour, but
    to-day with less distressing fears and perplexity of mind. I do
    from my inmost soul, O Lord, desire Thy will to be done, and
    that Thou mayest be glorified in this concern. Oh, direct us!

    _February 7._--I have been convinced to-day how by admitting
    into my heart, and suffering my first, my last, and every
    thought to be engrossed by an earthly object, I have grieved the
    Holy Spirit, and hindered God from dwelling in me. Oh! let me
    have done with idols and worship God.

More than six weeks after his letter of July 12, the fever-stricken
missionary recovered strength to write to Lydia once again:

                         TO LYDIA GRENFELL

                                           Tabreez: August 28, 1812.

    I wrote to you last, my dear Lydia, in great disorder. My fever
    had approached nearly to delirium, and my debility was so great
    that it seemed impossible I could withstand the power of disease
    many days. Yet it has pleased God to restore me to life and
    health again; not that I have recovered my former strength yet,
    but consider myself sufficiently restored to prosecute my
    journey. My daily prayer is, that my late chastisement may have
    its intended effect, and make me all the rest of my days more
    humble, and less self-confident. Self-confidence has often let
    me down fearful lengths, and would, without God's gracious
    interference, prove my endless perdition. I seem to be made to
    feel this evil of my heart more than any other at this time. In
    prayer, or when I write or converse on the subject, Christ
    appears to me my life and strength, but at other times I am as
    thoughtless and bold as if I had all life and strength in
    myself, Such neglect on our part works a diminution of our joys;
    but the covenant, the covenant! stands fast with Him, for His
    people evermore.

    I mentioned my conversing sometimes on Divine subjects, for
    though it is long enough since I have seen a child of God, I am
    sometimes led on by the Persians to tell them all I know of the
    very recesses of the sanctuary, and these are the things that
    interest them. But to give an account of all my discussions with
    these mystic philosophers must be reserved to the time of our
    meeting. Do I dream, that I venture to think and write of such
    an event as that? Is it possible that we shall ever meet again
    below? Though it is possible, I dare not indulge such a pleasing
    hope yet. I am still at a tremendous distance; and the countries
    I have to pass through are many of them dangerous to the
    traveller, from the hordes of banditti, whom a feeble
    government cannot chastise. In consequence of the bad state of
    the road between this and Aleppo, Sir Gore advises me to go
    first to Constantinople, and from thence to pass into Syria. In
    favour of this route, he urges that, by writing to two or three
    Turkish Governors on the frontiers, he can secure me a safe
    passage, at least half-way, and the latter half is probably not
    much infested. In three days, therefore, I intend setting my
    horse's head towards Constantinople, distant above thirteen
    hundred miles. Nothing, I think, will occasion any further
    detention here, if I can procure servants who know both Persian
    and Turkish; but should I be taken ill on the road, my case
    would be pitiable indeed. The ambassador and his suite are still
    here: his and Lady Ouseley's attentions to me, during my
    illness, have been unremitted. The Prince Abbas Mirza, the
    wisest of the king's sons, and heir to the throne, was here some
    time after my arrival; I much wished to present a copy of the
    Persian New Testament to him, but I could not rise from my bed.
    The book will, however, be given to him by the ambassador.
    Public curiosity about the Gospel, now for the first time, in
    the memory of the modern Persians, introduced into the country,
    is a good deal excited here, at Shiraz, and other places; so
    that, upon the whole, I am thankful for having been led hither
    and detained, though my residence in this country has been
    attended with many unpleasant circumstances. The way of the
    kings of the East is preparing. This much may be said with
    safety, but little more. The Persians also will probably take
    the lead in the march to Zion, as they are ripe for a revolution
    in religion as well as politics.

    Sabat, about whom you inquire so regularly, I have heard nothing
    of this long time. My friends in India have long since given me
    up as lost or gone out of reach, and if they wrote they would
    probably not mention him, as he is far from being a favourite
    with any of them. ----, who is himself of an impatient temper,
    cannot tolerate him; indeed, I am pronounced to be the only man
    in Bengal who could have lived with him so long. He is, to be
    sure, the most tormenting creature I ever yet chanced to deal
    with--peevish, proud, suspicious, greedy; he used to give daily
    more and more distressing proofs of his never having received
    the saving grace of God. But of this you will say nothing; while
    his interesting story is yet fresh in the memory of people, his
    failings had better not be mentioned. The poor Arab wrote me a
    querulous epistle from Calcutta, complaining that no one took
    notice of him now that I was gone; and then he proceeds to abuse
    his best friends. I have not yet written to reprove him for his
    unchristian sentiments, and when I do I know it will be to no
    purpose after all the private lectures I have given him. My
    course from Constantinople is so uncertain that I hardly know
    where to desire you to direct to me; I believe Malta is the only
    place, for there I must stop in my way home. Soon we shall have
    occasion for pen and ink no more; but I trust I shall shortly
    see thee face to face. Love to all the saints.

    Believe me to be yours ever, most faithfully and affectionately,

                                                          H. MARTYN.

These were Henry Martyn's last words to Lydia Grenfell. Hasting home
to be with her, in a few weeks his yearning spirit was with the Lord--

    Love divine, all love excelling.

Tabreez was at this time the centre of diplomatic activity. While the
Shah and his camp were not far off, the Turkish Ambassador was in the
city, and Sir Gore Ouseley was busily mediating between the Turkish
and Persian Governments after their hostilities on the Baghdad
frontier. Turkey, moreover, had just before concluded a treaty with
Russia, with consequences most offensive to the Shah. Only the
personal influence and active interference of the British Ambassador
prevented the renewal of hostilities. Mr. Morier, the Secretary of
Embassy, gives us this contemporary picture of Martyn's arrival:[81]
'We had not long been at Tabreez before our party was joined by the
Rev. William Canning and the Rev. Henry Martyn. The former was
attached to our Embassy as chaplain; the latter, whom we had left at
Shiraz employed in the translation of the New Testament into the
Persian language, having completed that object, was on his way to
Constantinople. Both these gentlemen had suffered greatly in health
during their journey from Shiraz. Mr. Martyn had scarcely time to
recover his strength before he departed again.'

Had Henry Martyn been induced by his hospitable friends to rest here
for a time, had the physician constrained him to wait for a better
season and more strength, he might have himself presented his sacred
work to the Shah--might have repeated in the north what he had been
permitted to do in one brief year in the south of Persia, and might
have again seen the beloved Lydia and his Cambridge friends. For
Tabreez, 'the fever-dispeller,' is said to have been so named by
Zobeidah, the wife of the Kaliph Haroon'r Rashheed, who, at the close
of the eighth century, beautified the ancient Tauris, capital of
Tiridates III., King of Armenia in 297, because of its healthy
climate. In spite of repeated earthquakes the city has been always
rebuilt, low and mean, covering an area like that of Vienna, but the
principal emporium from which Persia used to receive its European
goods till the coasting steamers of India opened up the Persian Gulf
and, of late, the Euphrates, Tigris, and Karoon rivers. Only the ark,
or citadel of Ali Shah, a noble building of burnt brick, and the fine
ruin of the Kabood Masjeed, or mosque of beautifully arabesqued blue
tiles, redeemed the city in Martyn's time from meanness. The
Ambassador, his host, was then lodged in the house of its wealthiest
citizen, Hajji Khan Muhammed, whom the Prince had turned out to make
room for Sir Gore Ouseley. Now the British Consulate of Tabreez is a
spacious residence, with a fine garden, and the city has become
flourishing again. Henry Martyn left Tabreez on his fatal journey at
the very time when the climate began to be at its best. All around,
too, and especially in the hills of Sahand to the south, with the air
of Scotland and of Wales, or on the natural pastures of Chaman, where
the finest brood mares are kept, sloping down to the waters of Lake
Ooroomia, he would have found in the hot season the loveliest land in
Asia.[82]

Before we hasten on with the modern apostle of the Persians to the
bitter but bright end, we must trace the history of the influence of
his translation of the New Testament. The 20th August, 1812, he
joyfully entered in his _Journal_ as a day much to be remembered for
the remarkable recovery of strength. He learned from Mirza Aga Meer
that his 'work,' that is, his reply to Mirza Ibrahim, had been read to
the Shah by Mirza Abdoolwahab, and that the king had observed to Mirza
Boozong, his son's vizier, that the Feringhis' (Franks') Government
and army, and now one of their moollas, was come into the East. The
Shah then directed Mirza Boozong to prepare an answer. In consequence
of this information Sir Gore Ouseley, who doubtless desired to spare
the little strength of his guest, directed that a certain moolla, who
greatly wished to be introduced to the man of God, should not be
brought to him. Nevertheless, 'one day a moolla came and disputed a
while for Muhammedan, but finished with professing Soofi sentiments.'

The great Shah, Fateh Ali Khan himself, and his son, were thus prepared
for the Divine gift of Henry Martyn in due form through the British
Ambassador. How it reached His Persian Majesty from Sir Gore Ouseley,
and how the Shah-in-Shah received it, these letters tell, so honourable
to the writers, even after all allowance is made for the diplomatic
courtliness of the correspondence.[83] The Soofi controversialists and
friends of the translator, who by that time had entered on his rest,
must have, moreover, predisposed the eclectic mind of the always liberal
Shah to treat with reverence the _Injil_, or Gospel.

    _From His Excellency Sir Gore Ouseley, Bart., Ambassador
    Extraordinary from His Britannic Majesty to the Court of Persia.
    Addressed to the Right Hon. Lord Teignmouth, President of the
    British and Foreign Bible Society._

                                 St. Petersburg: September 20, 1814.

    My dear Lord,--Finding that I am likely to be detained here some
    six or seven weeks, and apprehensive that my letters from Persia
    may not have reached your Lordship, I conceive it my duty to
    acquaint you, for the information of the society of Christians
    formed for the purpose of propagating the Sacred Writings, that,
    agreeably to the wishes of our poor friend, the late Rev. Henry
    Martyn, I presented in the name of the Society (as he
    particularly desired) a copy of his translation of the New
    Testament into the Persian language to His Persian Majesty,
    Fateh Ali Shah Kajar, having first made conditions that His
    Majesty was to peruse the whole, and favour me with his opinion
    of the style, etc.

    Previous to delivering the book to the Shah, I employed
    transcribers to make some copies of it, which I distributed to
    Hajji Mahomed Hussein Khan, Prince of Maru, Mirza Abdulwahab,
    and other men of learning and rank immediately about the person
    of the king, who, being chiefly converts to the Soofi
    philosophy, would, I felt certain, give it a fair judgment, and,
    if called upon by the Shah for their opinion, report of it
    according to its intrinsic merits.

    The enclosed translation of a letter from His Persian Majesty to
    me will show your Lordship that he thinks the complete work a
    great acquisition, and that he approves of the simple style
    adopted by my lamented friend Martyn and his able coadjutor,
    Mirza Sayyed Ali, so appropriate to the just and ready
    conception of the sublime morality of the Sacred Writings.
    Should the Society express a wish to possess the original letter
    from the Shah, or a copy of it in Persian, I shall be most happy
    to present either through your Lordship.

    I beg leave to add that, if a correct copy of Mr. Martyn's
    translation has not yet been presented to the Society, I shall
    have great pleasure in offering one that has been copied from
    and collated with the original left with me by Mr. Martyn, on
    which he had bestowed the greatest pains to render it perfect.

    I also promise to devote my leisure to the correction of the
    press, in the event of your thinking proper to have it printed
    in England, should my Sovereign not have immediate occasion for
    my services out of England.--I am, etc.

                                                       GORE OUSELEY.


            _Translation of His Persian Majesty's Letter,
                  referred to in the preceding._

        In the Name of the Almighty God, whose glory is most
                           excellent.

    It is our august command that the dignified and excellent our
    trusty, faithful, and loyal well-wisher, Sir Gore Ouseley,
    Baronet, His Britannic Majesty's Ambassador Extraordinary (after
    being honoured and exalted with the expressions of our highest
    regard and consideration), should know that the copy of the
    Gospel, which was translated into Persian by the learned
    exertions of the late Rev. Henry Martyn, and which has been
    presented to us by your Excellency on the part of the high,
    dignified, learned, and enlightened Society of Christians,
    united for the purpose of spreading abroad the Holy Books of the
    religion of Jesus (upon whom, and upon all prophets, be peace
    and blessings!), has reached us, and has proved highly
    acceptable to our august mind.

    In truth, through the learned and unremitted exertions of the
    Rev. Henry Martyn, it has been translated in a style most
    befitting sacred books, that is, in an easy and simple diction.
    Formerly, the four Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
    were known in Persia; but now the whole of the New Testament is
    completed in a most excellent manner: and this circumstance has
    been an additional source of pleasure to our enlightened and
    august mind. Even the four Evangelists which were known in this
    country had never been before explained in so clear and luminous
    a manner. We, therefore, have been particularly delighted with
    this copious and complete translation. If it please the most
    merciful God, we shall command the Select Servants, who are
    admitted to our presence, to read[84] to us the above-mentioned
    book from the beginning to the end, that we may, in the most
    minute manner, hear and comprehend its contents.

    Your Excellency will be pleased to rejoice the hearts of the
    above-mentioned dignified, learned, and enlightened Society with
    assurances of our highest regard and approbation; and to inform
    those excellent individuals who are so virtuously engaged in
    disseminating and making known the true meaning and intent of
    the Holy Gospel, and other points in sacred books, that they are
    deservedly honoured with our royal favour. Your Excellency must
    consider yourself as bound to fulfil this royal request.

         Given in Rebialavil, 1229.

                                    (Sealed) FATEH ALI SHAH KAJAR.

Even here we see Martyn and Carey once more linked together. The same
volume from which we have taken these letters contains, a few pages
before them, these words written by Dr. Carey from Serampore:
'Religion is the only thing in the world worth living for. And no work
is so important as serving God in the Gospel of His Son; if, like the
Apostle, we do this with one spirit, great will be our enjoyment and
abundant our reward.'

Sir Gore Ouseley carried the original MS. to St. Petersburg, where,
happening to mention the fact to the President of the Russian Bible
Society, Prince Galitzin at once begged that his Society, always an
honourable exception to the intolerance of the Tsar's Greek Church,
might be allowed to publish it. A set of Persian types was specially
procured. Sir Gore Ouseley, assisted by the Persian Jaffir Khan,
corrected the proofs, and the Rev. R. Pinkerton, one of the Scottish
Mission to Karass, carefully superintended the printing. Several
Persians, resident in that city, bespoke copies for their friends. The
British and Foreign Bible Society granted 300_l._ towards the expenses
of an edition of 5,000 copies. The first edition appeared there in
September, 1815, on which Prince Galitzin wrote to Mr. Pinkerton, as
representing the Bible Society in London:

    Praise be given to the incomprehensible counsels of God, who,
    for the salvation of man, gave His Word, and causeth it to
    increase among all nations: who useth as His instruments the
    inhabitants of countries of different languages and tribes, not
    unfrequently the most distant from each other and altogether
    unacquainted with those for whom they labour! This is a true
    sign of the holy will of God respecting this work, who worketh
    all and in all. This is the case with the finished edition of
    the Persian New Testament, which was translated into that
    language in a far distant part of Asia, and prepared to be
    printed in another, but brought into Russia (where nothing of
    the kind was ever thought of) and printed off much sooner than
    was at first intended. Here men were found endowed with
    good-will and the requisite qualifications for the completion of
    this work, which at first seemed to be so difficult.

Meanwhile, Martyn himself having directed that a copy of the
manuscript translation should be sent to Calcutta from Shiraz, when he
left that city, four copies were made, lest any accident should befall
it on the way to Bengal. It reached the Calcutta Corresponding
Committee in 1814, and they invited Mirza Sayyid Ali to join them and
pass it through the press. This second edition accordingly appeared
at Calcutta in 1816. Professor Lee, of Cambridge, published a third
edition of it in London in 1827, and a fourth in 1837. The most
beautiful and valuable of all is the fifth, now before the writer,
which Thomas Constable printed in Edinburgh in 1846 (corresponding to
1262 of the _Hijrah_) in three royal octavo volumes. This was also the
most important because it accompanied a Persian translation of the Old
Testament. Mirza Sayyid Ali had early informed the Calcutta Committee
that he had his master's original translation of the Psalter, and this
also appeared at Calcutta in 1816. This formed the nucleus of the
Persian Old Testament prepared by Dr. W. Glen, of the Scottish
Missionary Society's Mission, at Karass, Astrakhan, and printed along
with Henry Martyn's New Testament in the memorable and beautiful
Edinburgh edition. That edition of the whole Bible was presented by
Dr. Glen to the present Shah of Persia, Nassr-ed-Deen, on his
accession to the throne in 1848. With Martyn's New Testament His
Majesty seemed to be well acquainted. Of the volume containing the Old
Testament we read that 'on handing the book to the servant in waiting
he just kissed and then put it to his forehead, with the same
indication of reverence which he would have shown had it been their
own sacred book, the Koran.' Archdeacon Robinson, of Poona, published
another Persian translation of the Old Testament. The Church
Missionary Society's distinguished missionary at Julfa, Dr. Robert
Bruce, has been for years engaged on a revision, or rather new
translation of the Old Testament into Persian, the two versions of
which are far inferior, in the opinion of one who is at the head of
all living experts, to Henry Martyn's translation of the New. Dr.
Bruce's work has now been completed.

    I know no parallel to these achievements of Henry Martyn's,
    writes Canon W.J. Edmonds, closing a survey of his powers and
    services as a translator of the Scriptures. There are in him the
    things that mark the born translator. He masters grammar,
    observes idioms, accumulates vocabulary, reads and listens,
    corrects and even reconstructs. Above all, he prays. He lives
    'in the Spirit,' and rises from his knees full of the mind of
    the Spirit. Pedantry is not in him, nor vulgarity. He longs and
    struggles to catch the dialect in which men may speak worthily
    of the things of God. And so his work lives. In his own
    Hindustani New Testament, and in the recovered parts of the Old
    Testament in which he watched over the labours of Fitrut, his
    work is still a living influence; men find 'reasons for
    reverting' to it. His earlier Persian, and what is demonstrably
    distinct from it, his Persic translation, or rather Sabat's,
    done under his superintendence, these indeed have gone. They did
    not survive his visit to Persia. Nor did the Arabic, which was
    the chief acknowledged motive of his journey. But what a gifted
    man is here, and what a splendid sum total of work, that can
    afford these deductions from the results of a five or six years'
    struggle with illness, and still leave behind translations of
    the New Testament in Hindustani and in Persian; the Hindustani
    version living a double life, its own and that which William
    Bowley gave it in the humbler vocabulary of the Hindi villages!
    We live in hurrying times; our days are swifter than a shuttle.
    New names, new saints, new heroes ever rise and dazzle the eyes
    of common men. So it should be, for God lives, and through Him
    men live and manifest His unexhausted power. But Martyn is a
    perennial. He springs up fresh to every generation. It is time,
    though, to take care that he does not become simply the shadow
    of an angel passing by. His pinnacle is that lofty one which is
    only assigned to eminent goodness, but it rests upon, and is
    only the finial of, a broad-based tower of sound and solid
    intellectual endowment.

Henry Martyn's Persian Testament called forth, in 1816, two Bulls from
Pope Pius VIII., addressed to the Archbishops of Gnesne and Moghilev,
within the Russian dominions, and letters from the Propaganda College
at Rome to the Vicars Apostolic and Missionaries in Persia, Armenia,
and other parts of the East. Wherever the Persian language was known
the people were warned 'against a version recently made into the
Persian idiom.' The Archbishops were told 'that Bibles printed by
heretics are numbered among the prohibited books by the rules of the
Index (Nos. II. and III.), for it is evident, from experience, that
from the Holy Scriptures which are published in the vulgar tongue,
more injury than good has arisen through the temerity of men.' Bible
Societies in Russia and Great Britain are denounced as a 'most crafty
device, by which the very foundations of religion are undermined.' So
the Latin Church has ever put from it 'The Great Missionary' which the
Reformation was the first to restore to Christendom and the world, and
Henry Martyn gave to the Mohammedans in their own tongue.

FOOTNOTES:

[79] _Journeys in Persia and Kurdistan, &c._, by Mrs. Bishop (Isabella
C. Bird), two vols., John Murray, 1891.

[80] The fanatical shrine of Fatima. See Mrs. Bishop's first volume
and Mr. Curzon's second.

[81] _A Second Journey through Persia, &c., between the years 1810 and
1816_, p. 223.

[82] 'Were I,' writes Mr. Baillie Fraser, 'to select a spot the best
calculated for the recovery of health, and for its preservation, I
know not that I could hit upon any more suited to the purpose than
Tabreez, at any season. A brighter sky and purer air can scarcely be
found. To me it seems as if there was truly health in the breeze that
blows around me.'

[83] See the _Eleventh Report of the British and Foreign Bible
Society_, 1815, Appendix, No. 51.

[84] I beg leave to remark that the word 'Tilawat,' which the translator
has rendered 'read,' is an honourable signification of that act, almost
exclusively applied to the perusing or reciting the Koran. The making
use, therefore, of this term or expression shows the degree of respect
and estimation in which the Shah holds the New Testament.--_Note by Sir
Gore Ouseley._



CHAPTER XIII

IN PERSIA AND TURKEY--TABREEZ TO TOKAT AND THE TOMB


On the evening of September 2, 1812, Henry Martyn left Tabreez for
Constantinople, on what he describes as 'my long journey of thirteen
hundred miles.' The route marked out for him by Sir Gore Ouseley, who
gave him letters to the Turkish governors of Erivan, Kars, and Erzroom,
and to the British Minister at Constantinople, as well as to the
Armenian Patriarch and Bishop Nestus at Etchmiatzin, was the old Roman
road into Central Asia. Professor W.M. Ramsay describes it as clearly
marked by Nature,[85] and still one of the most important trade routes.
It was the safest and speediest, as well as the least forbidding. 'Sir
Gore, wishing me not to travel in the same unprotected way I had done,
procured from the Prince a _mehmandar_ for me, together with an order
for the use of _chappar_ horses all the way to Erivan.' Thence he was
passed on to Kars similarly attended, and thence to Erzroom. He took
with him 'near three hundred _tomans_ in money,' or about 130_l._ On the
eve of his departure he wrote: 'The delightful thought of being brought
to the borders of Europe, without sustaining any injury, contributed
more than anything else, I believe, to restore my health and spirits.'

But travelling in Persia and Asiatic Turkey, even at the best and for
the strongest, is necessarily a work of hardship. The _chappar_, or
post-stations, occur at a distance of from twenty to twenty-five
miles, measured by the _farsakh_, the old parasang in Greek phrase, of
four miles each. What Mrs. Bishop has recently described has always
been true: 'The custom is to ride through all the hours of daylight,
whenever horses are to be got, doing from sixty to ninety miles a
day.' Henry Martyn rode his own horses, and his party of two Armenian
servants (a groom and Turkish interpreter), with the _mehmandar_, had
the post-horses. Out of the cities he had to trust, for rest and
accommodation, to the post-stations, which at the best were enclosures
of mud walls on three sides, deep in manure, with stabling on two sides,
and two dark rooms at the entrance for the servants. Occasionally an
erection (_balakhana_) above the gateway is available for the master,
but how seldom Martyn was lodged in any way better than the animals,
will be seen from his _Journal_. He had travelled in this way, in the
heats of two summers, from Bushire to Shiraz, and from Shiraz to
Tabreez, the whole extent of the Persian plateau from south to north. He
had nearly died at Tabreez.

Yet now, with his Persian New Testament ready for the press and his
longing for Lydia, he again set forth, sustained by 'the delightful
thought.' With intensest interest we follow him in every step of his
march north-west through the Persian province of Azerbaijan, Armenia,
and Eastern Asia Minor, the unconquerable spirit sustaining the feeble
body for forty-five days, as Chrysostom's was fed in his southern
journey to the same place of departure almost within sight of the
Euxine Sea.

    _1812, September 2._--At sunset we left the western gate of
    Tabreez behind us. The horses proved to be sorry animals. It was
    midnight before we arrived at Sangla, a village in the middle of
    the plain of Tabreez. There they procured me a place in the
    Zabit's house. I slept till after sunrise of the 3rd, and did
    not choose to proceed at such an hour; so I passed most of the
    day in my room. At three in the afternoon proceeded towards
    Sofian. My health being again restored, through infinite and
    unbounded mercy, I was able to look round the creation with calm
    delight. The plain of Tabreez, towards the west and south-west,
    stretches away to an immense distance, and is bounded in these
    directions by mountains so remote as to appear, from their soft
    blue, to blend with the skies. The baggage having been sent on
    before, I ambled on with my _mehmandar_, looking all around me,
    and especially towards the distant hills, with gratitude and
    joy. Oh! it is necessary to have been confined to a bed of
    sickness to know the delight of moving freely through the works
    of God, with the senses left at liberty to enjoy their proper
    object. My attendant not being very conversant with Persian, we
    rode silently along; for my part, I could not have enjoyed any
    companion so much as I did my own feelings. At sunset we reached
    Sofian, a village with gardens, at the north-west end of the
    plain, which is usually the first stage from Tabreez. The Zabit
    was in his corn-field, under a little tent, inspecting his
    labourers, who were cutting the straw fine, so as to be fit to
    be eaten by cattle; this was done by drawing over it a cylinder,
    armed with blades of a triangular form, placed in different
    planes, so that their vertices should coincide in the cylinder.

    The Zabit paid me no attention, but sent a man to show me a
    place to sleep in, who took me to one with only three walls. I
    demanded another with four, and was accordingly conducted to a
    weaver's, where, notwithstanding the mosquitoes and other
    vermin, I passed the night comfortably enough. On my offering
    money, the _mehmandar_ interfered, and said that if it were
    known that I had given money he should be ruined, and added:
    'They, indeed, dare not take it;' but this I did not find to be
    the case.

    _September 4._--At sunrise mounted my horse, and proceeded
    north-west, through a pass in the mountains, towards Murun. By
    the way I sat down by the brook, and there ate my bread and
    raisins, and drank of the crystal stream; but either the
    coldness of this unusual breakfast, or the riding after it, did
    not at all agree with me. The heat oppressed me much, and the
    road seemed intolerably tedious. At last we got out from among
    the mountains, and saw the village of Murun, in a fine valley on
    the right. It was about eleven o'clock when we reached it. As
    the _mehmandar_ could not immediately find a place to put me in,
    we had a complete view of this village. They stared at my
    European dress, but no disrespect was shown. I was deposited at
    last with a Khan, who was seated in a place with three walls.
    Not at all disposed to pass the day in company, as well as
    exposed, I asked for another room, on which I was shown to the
    stable, where there was a little place partitioned off, but so
    as to admit a view of the horses. The smell of the stable,
    though not in general disagreeable to me, was so strong that I
    was quite unwell, and strangely dispirited and melancholy.
    Immediately after dinner I fell fast asleep and slept four
    hours, after which I rose and ordered them to prepare for the
    next journey. The horses being changed here, it was some time
    before they were brought, but, by exerting myself, we moved off
    by midnight. It was a most mild and delightful night, and the
    pure air, after the smell of the stable, was quite reviving.
    For once, also, I travelled all the way without being sleepy;
    and beguiled the hours of the way by thinking of the 14th Psalm,
    especially the connection of the last three verses with the
    preceding.

    _September 5._--In five hours we were just on the hills which
    face the pass out of the valley of Murun (Marand), and in four
    hours and a half more emerged from between the two ridges of
    mountains into the valley of Gurjur. Gurjur is eight parasangs
    from Murun, and our course to it was nearly due north. This long
    march was far from being a fatiguing one. The air, the road, and
    my spirits were good. Here I was well accommodated, but had to
    mourn over my impatient temper towards my servants; there is
    nothing that disturbs my peace so much. How much more noble and
    godlike to bear with calmness, and observe with pity, rather
    than with anger, the failings and offences of others! Oh, that I
    may, through grace, be enabled to recollect myself in the time
    of temptation! Oh, that the Spirit of God may check my folly,
    and at such times bring the lowly Saviour to my view!

    _September 6._--Soon after twelve we started with fresh horses,
    and came to the Aras, or Araxes, distant two parasangs, and
    about as broad as the Isis, and a current as strong as that of
    the Ganges. The ferry-boat being on the north side, I lay down
    to sleep till it came; but observing my servants do the same, I
    was obliged to get up and exert myself. It dawned, however,
    before we got over. The boat was a huge fabric in the form of a
    rhombus. The ferryman had only a stick to push with; an oar, I
    dare say, he had never seen or heard of, and many of my train
    had probably never floated before;--so alien is a Persian from
    everything that belongs to shipping. We landed safely on the
    other side in about two minutes. We were four hours in reaching
    Nakshan, and for half an hour more I was led from street to
    street, till at last I was lodged in a wash-house belonging to a
    great man, a corner of which was cleaned out for me. It was
    near noon and my baggage was not arrived, so that I was obliged
    to go without my breakfast, which was hard after a ride of four
    hours in the sun. The baggage was delayed so long that I began
    to fear; at last, however, it arrived. All the afternoon I
    slept, and at sunset arose, and continued wakeful till midnight,
    when I aroused my people, and with fresh horses set out again.
    We travelled till sunrise. I scarcely perceived that we had been
    moving, a Hebrew word in the 16th Psalm having led me gradually
    into speculations on the eighth conjugation of the Arabic verb.
    I am glad my philological curiosity is revived, as my mind will
    be less liable to idleness.

    _September 7._--Arrived at Khok, a poor village, distant five
    and a half parasangs from Nakshan, nearly west. I should have
    mentioned that, on descending into the plain of Nakshan, my
    attention was arrested by the appearance of a hoary mountain
    opposite to us at the other end, rising so high above the rest
    that they sank into insignificance. It was truly sublime, and
    the interest it excited was not lessened when, on inquiring its
    name, I was told it was Agri, or Ararat. Thus I saw two
    remarkable objects in one day, the Araxes and Ararat. At four in
    the afternoon we set out for Shurour. The evening was pleasant;
    the ground over which we passed was full of rich cultivation and
    verdure, watered by many a stream, and containing forty
    villages, most of them with the usual appendage of gardens. To
    add to the scene, the great Ararat was on our left. On the peak
    of that hill the whole Church was once contained; it was now
    spread far and wide, even to the ends of the earth, but the
    ancient vicinity of it knows it no more. I fancied many a spot
    where Noah perhaps offered his sacrifices; and the promise of
    God, that seed-time and harvest should not cease, appeared to me
    to be more exactly fulfilled in the agreeable plain in which it
    was spoken than elsewhere, as I had not seen such fertility in
    any part of the Shah's dominions. Here the blessed saint landed
    in a new world; so may I, safe in Christ, out-ride the storm of
    life, and land at last on one of the everlasting hills!

    Night coming on we lost our way, and got intercepted by some
    deep ravines, into one of which the horse that carried my trunks
    sunk so deep that the water got into one of them, wetted the
    linen and spoiled some books. Finding it in vain to attempt
    gaining our _munzil_, we went to another village, where, after a
    long delay, two aged men with silver beards opened their house
    to us. Though it was near midnight I had a fire lighted to dry
    my books, took some coffee and sunk into deep sleep; from which
    awaking at the earliest dawn of

    _September 8_, I roused the people, and had a delightful ride of
    one parasang to Shurour, distant four parasangs from Khok. Here
    I was accommodated by the great man with a stable, or winter
    room, for they built it in such a strange vicinity in order to
    have it warm in winter. At present, while the weather is still
    hot, the smell is at times overpowering. At eleven at night we
    moved off, with fresh horses, for Duwala; but though we had
    guides in abundance, we were not able to extricate ourselves
    from the ravines with which this village is surrounded.
    Procuring another man from a village we happened to wander into,
    we at last made our way, through grass and mire, to the pass,
    which led us to a country as dry as the one we had left was wet.
    Ararat was now quite near; at the foot of it is Duwala, six
    parasangs from Nakshan, where we arrived at seven in the morning
    of

    _September 9._--As I had been thinking all night of a Hebrew
    letter, I perceived little of the tediousness of the way. I
    tried also some difficulties in the 16th Psalm without being
    able to master them. All day on the 15th and 16th Psalms, and
    gained some light into the difficulties. The villagers not
    bringing the horses in time, we were not able to go on at
    night, but I was not much concerned, as I thereby gained some
    rest.

    _September 10._--All day at the village writing down notes on
    the 15th and 16th Psalms. Moved at midnight, and arrived early
    in the morning at Erivan.

    _September 11._--I alighted at Hosein Khan, the governor's
    palace, as it may be called, for he seems to live in a style
    equal to that of a prince. Indeed, commanding a fortress on the
    frontier, within six hours of the Russians, he is entrusted with
    a considerable force, and is nearly independent of the Shah.
    After sleeping two hours I was summoned to his presence. He at
    first took no notice of me, but continued reading his Koran, it
    being the Mohurrum. After a compliment or two he resumed his
    devotions. The next ceremony was to exchange a rich shawl dress
    for a still richer pelisse, on pretence of its being cold. The
    next display was to call for his physician, who, after
    respectfully feeling his pulse, stood on one side: this was to
    show that he had a domestic physician. His servants were most
    richly clad. My letter from the ambassador, which till now had
    lain neglected on the ground, was opened and read by a moonshi.
    He heard with great interest what Sir Gore had written about the
    translation of the Gospels. After this he was very kind and
    attentive, and sent for Lieutenant M., of the Engineers, who was
    stationed, with two sergeants, at the fort. He ordered for me a
    _mehmandar_, a guard, and four horses with which a Turk had just
    come from Kars.

    _September 12._--The horses not being ready, I rode alone and
    found my way to Etchmiatzin (or Three Churches[86]), two and a
    half parasangs distant. Directing my course to the largest
    church, I found it enclosed by some other buildings and a wall.
    Within the entrance I found a large court, with monks cowled and
    gowned moving about. On seeing my Armenian letters they brought
    me to the Patriarch's lodge, where I found two bishops, one of
    whom was Nestus, at breakfast on pilaos, kuwabs, wine, arrak,
    etc., and Serst (Serope) with them. As he spoke English, French,
    and Italian, I had no difficulty in communicating with my hosts.

    Serope, considering the danger to which the cathedral-seat is
    exposed from its situation between Russia, Persia, and Turkey,
    is for building a college at Tiflis. The errors and
    superstitions of his people were the subject of Serope's
    conversation the whole morning, and seemed to be the occasion of
    real grief to him. He intended, he said, after a few more
    months' trial of what he could do here, to retire to India, and
    there write and print some works in Armenian, tending to
    enlighten the people with regard to religion, in order to
    introduce a reform. I said all I could to encourage him in such
    a blessed work: promising him every aid from the English, and
    proving to him, from the example of Luther and the other
    European reformers, that, however arduous the work might seem,
    God would surely be with him to help him. I mentioned the awful
    neglect of the Armenian clergy in never preaching; as thereby
    the glad tidings of a Saviour were never proclaimed. He made no
    reply to this, but that 'it was to be lamented, as the people
    were never called away from vice.'

    _September 13._--I asked Serope about the 16th Psalm in the
    Armenian version; he translated it into correct Latin. In the
    afternoon I waited on the Patriarch; it was a visit of great
    ceremony. He was reclining on a sort of throne, placed in the
    middle of the room. All stood except the two senior bishops; a
    chair was set for me on the other side, close to the Patriarch;
    at my right hand stood Serope, to interpret. The Patriarch had a
    dignified rather than a venerable appearance. His conversation
    consisted in protestations of sincere attachment, in expressions
    of his hopes of deliverance from the Mohammedan yoke, and
    inquiries about my translations of the Scriptures; and he begged
    me to consider myself as at home in the monastery. Indeed, their
    attention and kindness are unbounded: Nestus and Serope
    anticipate my every wish. I told the Patriarch that I was so
    happy in being here that, did duty permit, I could almost be
    willing to become a monk with them. He smiled, and fearing,
    perhaps, that I was in earnest, said that they had quite enough.
    Their number is a hundred, I think. The church was immensely
    rich till about ten years ago, when, by quarrels between two
    contending patriarchs, one of whom is still in the monastery in
    disgrace, most of their money was expended in referring their
    disputes to the Mohammedans as arbitrators. There is no
    difficulty, however, in replenishing their coffers: their
    merchants in India are entirely at their command.

    _September 15._--Spent the day in preparing, with Serope, for
    the mode of travelling in Turkey. All my heavy and expensive
    preparations at Tabreez prove to be incumbrances which must be
    left behind: my trunks were exchanged for bags; and my portable
    table and chair, several books, large supplies of sugar, etc.,
    were condemned to be left behind. My humble equipments were
    considered as too mean for an English gentleman; so Serope gave
    me an English bridle and saddle. The roads in Turkey being much
    more infested with robbers than those of Persia, a sword was
    brought for me.

    _September 16._--Upon the whole I hardly know what hopes to
    entertain from the projects of Serope. He is bold,
    authoritative, and very able; still only thirty-one years of
    age; but then he is not spiritual: perhaps this was the state of
    Luther himself at first. It is an interesting time in the world;
    all things proclaim the approach of the kingdom of God, and
    Armenia is not forgotten. There is a monastery of Armenian
    Catholics at Venice, which they employ merely in printing the
    Psalter, book of prayers, etc. Serope intends addressing his
    first work to them, as they are the most able divines of the
    Armenians, to argue them back from the Roman Catholic communion,
    in which case he thinks they would co-operate with him
    cordially; being as much concerned as himself at the gross
    ignorance of their countrymen. The Archbishop of Astrakhan has a
    press, also an agent at Madras and one at Constantinople,
    printing the Scriptures and books of prayers: there is none at
    Etchmiatzin. At Constantinople are three or four
    fellow-collegians of Serope, educated as well as he by the
    Propaganda, who used to entertain the same sentiments as he, and
    would, he thinks, declare them if he would begin.

    _September 17._--At six in the morning, accompanied by Serope,
    one bishop, the secretary, and several servants of the
    monastery, I left Etchmiatzin. My party now consisted of two men
    from the governor of Erivan, a _mehmandar_, and a guard; my
    servant Sergius, for whom the monks interceded, as he had some
    business at Constantinople; one trusty servant from the
    monastery, Melcom, who carried my money; and two baggage-horses
    with their owners. The monks soon returned, and we pursued our
    way over the plain of Ararat. At twelve o'clock reached Quila
    Gazki, about six parasangs from Etchmiatzin. The _mehmandar_
    rode on, and got a good place for me.

    _September 18._--Rose with the dawn, in hopes of going this
    stage before breakfast, but the horses were not ready. I set off
    at eight, fearing no sun, though I found it at times very
    oppressive when there was no wind. At the end of three hours we
    left the plain of Ararat, the last of the plains of modern
    Persia in this quarter. Meeting here with the Araxes again, I
    undressed and plunged into the stream.[87] While hastening
    forward with the trusty Melcom to rejoin my party, we were
    overtaken by a spearman with a lance of formidable length. I did
    not think it likely that one man would venture to attack two,
    both armed; but the spot was a noted one for robbers, and very
    well calculated, by its solitariness, for deeds of privacy;
    however, he was friendly enough. He had, however, nearly done me
    a mischief. On the bank of the river we sprang a covey of
    partridges; instantly he laid his lance under him across the
    horse's back, and fired a horse-pistol at them. His horse,
    starting at the report, came upon mine, with the point of the
    spear directly towards me, so that I thought a wound for myself
    or horse was inevitable; but the spear passed under my horse. We
    were to have gone to Haji-Buhirem, but finding the head-man of
    it at a village a few furlongs nearer, we stopped there. We
    found him in a shed outside the walls, reading his Koran, with
    his sword, gun, and pistol by his side. He was a good-natured
    farmer-looking man, and spoke in Persian. He chanted the Arabic
    with great readiness, and asked me whether I knew what that book
    was: 'Nothing less than the great Koran!'

    _September 19._--Left the village at seven in the morning, and
    as the stage was reputed to be very dangerous, owing to the
    vicinity of the famous Kara Beg, my _mehmandar_ took three armed
    men from the village in addition to the one we brought from
    Erivan. We continued going along through the pass two or three
    parasangs, and crossed the Araxes three times. We then ascended
    the mountains on the north by a road, if not so steep, yet as
    long and difficult as any of the _kotuls_ of Bushire. On the top
    we found a table-land, along which we moved many a tedious mile,
    expecting every minute that we should have a view of a fine
    champaign country below; but dale followed dale, apparently in
    endless succession, and though at such a height there was very
    little air to relieve the heat, and nothing to be seen but
    barren rocks. One part, however, must be excepted, where the
    prospect opened to the north, and we had a view of the Russian
    territory, so that we saw at once, Persia, Russia, and Turkey.
    At length we came to an Armenian village, situated in a hollow
    of these mountains, on a declivity. The village presented a
    singular appearance, being filled with conical piles of peat,
    for they have no fire-wood. Around there was a great deal of
    cultivation, chiefly corn. Most of the low land from Tabreez to
    this place is planted with cotton, _Palma Christi_, and rice.
    This is the first village in Turkey; not a Persian cap was to be
    seen, the respectable people wore a red Turkish cap. The great
    man of the village paid me a visit; he was a young Mussulman,
    and took care of all my Mussulman attendants; but he left me and
    my Armenians, where he found us, at the house of an Armenian,
    without offering his services. I was rather uncomfortably
    lodged, my room being a thoroughfare for horses, cows,
    buffaloes, and sheep. Almost all the village came to look at me.
    The name of this village is Fiwik, it is distant six parasangs
    from the last; but we were eight hours accomplishing it, and a
    kafila would have been twelve. We arrived at three o'clock; both
    horses and men much fatigued.

    _September 20._--From daybreak to sunrise I walked, then
    breakfasted and set out. Our course lay north, over a mountain,
    and here danger was apprehended. It was, indeed, dismally
    solitary all around. The appearance of an old castle on the top
    of a crag was the first occasion on which our guard got their
    pieces ready, and one rode forward to reconnoitre: but all there
    was as silent as the grave. At last, after travelling five
    hours, we saw some men: our guard again took their places in
    front. Our fears were soon removed by seeing carts and oxen. Not
    so the opposite party: for my baggage was so small as not to be
    easily perceived. They halted therefore at the bottom, towards
    which we were both descending, and those of them who had guns
    advanced in front and hailed us. We answered peaceably; but
    they, still distrusting us as we advanced nearer, cocked their
    pieces. Soon, however, we came to a parley. They were Armenians,
    bringing wood from Kars to their village in the mountain: they
    were hardy, fine young men, and some old men who were with them
    were particularly venerable. The dangerous spots being passed
    through, my party began to sport with their horses: galloping
    across the path, brandishing their spears or sticks, they darted
    them just at that moment of wheeling round their horses, as if
    that motion gave them an advantage. It struck me that this,
    probably, was the mode of fighting of the ancient Parthians
    which made them so terrible in flight. Presently after these
    gambols the appearance of some poor countrymen with their carts
    put into their heads another kind of sport; for knowing, from
    the ill-fame of the spot, that we should be easily taken for
    robbers, four of them galloped forward, and by the time we
    reached them one of the carters was opening a bag to give them
    something. I was, of course, very much displeased, and made
    signs to him not to do it. I then told them all, as we quickly
    pursued our course, that such kind of sport was not allowed in
    England; they said it was the Persian custom. We arrived at
    length at Ghanikew, having ridden six hours and a half without
    intermission. The _mehmandar_ was for changing his route
    continually, either from real or pretended fear. One of the Kara
    Beg's men saw me at the village last night, and as he would
    probably get intelligence of my pretended route, it was
    desirable to elude him. But after all we went the shortest way,
    through the midst of danger, if there was any, and a gracious
    Providence kept all mischief at a distance. Ghanikew is only two
    parasangs from Kars, but I stopped there, as I saw it was more
    agreeable to the people; besides which I wished to have a ride
    before breakfast. I was lodged in a stable-room; but very much
    at my ease, as none of the people of the village could come at
    me without passing through the house.

    _September 21._--Rode into Kars. Its appearance is quite
    European, not only at a distance but within. The houses all of
    stone; streets with carts passing; some of the houses open to
    the street; the fort on an uncommonly high rock; such a
    burying-ground I never saw, there must be thousands of
    gravestones. The _mehmandar_ carried me directly to the
    governor, who, having just finished his breakfast, was of course
    asleep, and could not be disturbed; but his head-man carried me
    to an Armenian's house, with orders to live at free quarter
    there. The room at the Armenian's was an excellent one,
    upstairs, facing the street, fort, and river, with a bow
    containing five windows under which were cushions. As soon as
    the Pacha was visible, the chief Armenian of Kars, to whom I had
    a letter from Bishop Nestus, his relation, waited upon him on my
    business. On looking over my letters of recommendation from Sir
    Gore Ouseley, I found there was none for Abdallah, the Pacha of
    Kars; however, the letter to the Governor of Erivan secured all
    I wanted. He sent to say I was welcome; that if I liked to stay
    a few days he should be happy, but that if I was determined to
    go on to-morrow, the necessary horses and ten men for a guard
    were all ready. As no wish was expressed of seeing me, I was of
    course silent upon that subject.

    _September 22._--Promises were made that everything should be
    ready at sunrise, but it was half-past nine before we started,
    and no guard present but the Tartar. He presently began to show
    his nature by flogging the baggage-horse with his long whip, as
    one who was not disposed to allow loitering; but one of the poor
    beasts presently fell with his load at full length over a piece
    of timber lying in the road. While this was setting to rights,
    the people gathered about me, and seemed more engaged with my
    Russian boots than with any other part of my dress. We moved
    south-west, and after five hours and a half reached Joula. The
    Tartar rode forward and got the coffee-room at the post-house
    ready. The coffee-room has one side railed and covered with
    cushions, and on the opposite side cushions on the ground; the
    rest of the room was left with bare stones and timbers. As the
    wind blew very cold yesterday, and I had caught cold, the Tartar
    ordered a great fire to be made. In this room I should have been
    very much to my satisfaction, had not the Tartar taken part of
    the same bench, and many other people made use of it as a public
    room. They were continually consulting my watch to know how near
    the hour of eating approached. It was evident that the Tartar
    was the great man here; he took the best place for himself; a
    dinner of four or five dishes was laid before him. When I asked
    for eggs they brought me rotten ones; for butter they brought me
    ghee. The idle people of the village came all night and smoked
    till morning. It was very cold, there being a hoar frost.

    _September 23._--Our way to-day lay through a forest of firs,
    and the variety of prospect it afforded, of hill and dale, wood
    and lawn, was beautiful and romantic. No mark of human
    workmanship was anywhere visible for miles, except where some
    trees had fallen by the stroke of the woodman. We saw at last a
    few huts in the thickest clumps, which was all we saw of the
    Koords, for fear of whom I was attended by ten armed horsemen.
    We frightened a company of villagers again to-day. They were
    bringing wood and grass from the forest, and on seeing us drew
    up. One of our party advanced and fired; such a rash piece of
    sport I thought must have been followed by serious mischief, but
    all passed off very well. With the forest I was delighted; the
    clear streams in the valleys, the lofty trees crowning the
    summit of the hills, the smooth paths winding away and losing
    themselves in the dark woods, and, above all, the solitude that
    reigned throughout, composed a scene which tended to harmonise
    and solemnise the mind. What displays of taste and magnificence
    are found occasionally on this ruined earth! Nothing was
    wanting to-day but the absence of the Turks, to avoid the sight
    and sound of whom I rode on. After a ride of nine hours and a
    half, we reached Mijingui, in the territory of Erzroom, and
    having resolved not to be annoyed in the same way as last night,
    I left the Tartar in the undisturbed possession of the
    post-house, and took up my quarters at an Armenian's, where, in
    the stable-room, I expected to be left alone; but a Georgian
    young man, on his way from Etchmiatzin, going on pilgrimage to
    Moosk, where John the Baptist is supposed to be buried, presumed
    on his assiduous attentions to me, and contrived to get a place
    for himself in the same room.

    _September 24._--A long and sultry march over many a hill and
    vale. In the way, two hours from the last stage, is a hot
    spring; the water fills a pool, having four porches. The porches
    instantly reminded me of Bethesda's pool: they were semicircular
    arches about six feet deep, intended seemingly for shelter from
    the sun. In them all the party undressed and bathed. The Tartar,
    to enjoy himself more perfectly, had his _kalean_ to smoke while
    up to his chin in water. We saw nothing else on the road to-day
    but a large and opulent family of Armenians--men, women, and
    children--in carts and carriages returning from a pilgrimage to
    Moosk. After eleven hours and a half, including the hour spent
    at the warm spring, we were overtaken by the dusk; so the Tartar
    brought us to Oghoomra, where I was placed in an Armenian's
    stable-room.

    _September 25._--Went round to Husar-Quile, where we changed
    horses. I was surprised to find so strong a fort and so large a
    town. From thence we were five hours and a half reaching the
    entrance of Erzroom. All was busy and moving in the streets and
    shops--crowds passing along. Those who caught a sight of us were
    at a loss to define me. My Persian attendants and the lower part
    of the dress made me appear Persian; but the rest of my dress
    was new, for those only who had travelled knew it to be
    European. They were rather disposed, I thought, to be uncivil,
    but the two persons who preceded us kept all in order. I felt
    myself in a Turkish town; the red cap, and stateliness, and rich
    dress, and variety of turbans was realised as I had seen it in
    pictures. There are here four thousand Armenian families and but
    one church; there are scarcely any Catholics, and they have no
    church.

    _September 29._--Left Erzroom with a Tartar and his son at two
    in the afternoon. We moved to a village, where I was attacked
    with fever and ague; the Tartar's son was also taken ill and
    obliged to return.

    _September 30._--Travelled first to Ashgula, where we changed
    horses, and from thence to Purnugaban, where we halted for the
    night. I took nothing all day but tea, and was rather better,
    but head-ache and loss of appetite depressed my spirits; yet my
    soul rests in Him who is 'an anchor to the soul, sure and
    steadfast,' which, though not seen, keeps me fast.

    _October 1._--Marched over a mountainous tract; we were out from
    seven in the morning till eight at night. After sitting a little
    by the fire, I was near fainting from sickness. My depression of
    spirits led me to the throne of grace as a sinful abject worm.
    When I thought of myself and my transgressions, I could find no
    text so cheering as 'My ways are not as your ways.' From the men
    who accompanied Sir Gore Ouseley to Constantinople I learned
    that the plague was raging at that place, and thousands dying
    every day. One of the Persians had died of it. They added that
    the inhabitants of Tokat were flying from their town from the
    same cause. Thus I am passing inevitably into imminent danger. O
    Lord, Thy will be done! Living or dying, remember me!

    _October 2._--Some hours before day I sent to tell the Tartar I
    was ready, but Hassan Aga was for once riveted to his bed.
    However, at eight, having got strong horses, he set off at a
    great rate; and over the level ground he made us gallop as fast
    as the horses would go to Chifflik, where we arrived at sunset.
    I was lodged, at my request, in the stables of the post-house,
    not liking the scrutinising impudence of the fellows who
    frequent the coffee-room. As soon as it began to grow a little
    cold the ague came on, and then the fever; after which I had a
    sleep, which let me know too plainly the disorder of my frame.
    In the night Hassan sent to summon me away, but I was quite
    unable to move. Finding me still in bed at the dawn, he began to
    storm furiously at my detaining him so long, but I quietly let
    him spend his ire, ate my breakfast composedly, and set out at
    eight. He seemed determined to make up for the delay, for we
    flew over hill and dale to Sherean, where he changed horses.
    From thence we travelled all the rest of the day and all night;
    it rained most of the time. Soon after sunset the ague came on
    again, which, in my wet state, was very trying; I hardly knew
    how to keep my life in me. About that time there was a village
    at hand, but Hassan had no mercy. At one in the morning we found
    two men under a wain, with a good fire; they could not keep the
    rain out, but their fire was acceptable. I dried my lower
    extremities, allayed the fever by drinking a good deal of water,
    and went on. We had little rain, but the night was pitchy dark
    so that I could not see the road under my horse's feet. However,
    God being mercifully pleased to alleviate my bodily suffering, I
    went on contentedly to the _munzil_, where we arrived at break
    of day. After sleeping three or four hours, I was visited by an
    Armenian merchant for whom I had a letter. Hassan was in great
    fear of being arrested here; the Governor of the city had vowed
    to make an example of him for riding to death a horse belonging
    to a man of this place. He begged that I would shelter him in
    case of danger; his being claimed by an Englishman, he said,
    would be a sufficient security. I found, however, that I had no
    occasion to interfere. He hurried me away from this place
    without delay, and galloped furiously towards a village, which,
    he said, was four hours distant, which was all I could undertake
    in my present weak state; but village after village did he pass
    till, night coming on, and no signs of another, I suspected that
    he was carrying me on to the _munzil_; so I got off my horse and
    sat upon the ground, and told him 'I neither could nor would go
    any farther.' He stormed, but I was immovable, till, a light
    appearing at a distance, I mounted my horse and made towards it,
    leaving him to follow or not, as he pleased. He brought in the
    party, but would not exert himself to get a place for me. They
    brought me to an open verandah, but Sergius told them I wanted a
    place in which to be alone. This seemed very offensive to them.
    'And why must he be alone?' they asked, ascribing this desire of
    mine to pride, I suppose. Tempted at last by money, they brought
    me to a stable-room, and Hassan and a number of others planted
    themselves there with me. My fever here increased to a violent
    degree; the heat in my eyes and forehead was so great that the
    fire almost made me frantic. I entreated that it might be put
    out, or that I might be carried out of doors. Neither was
    attended to; my servant, who, from my sitting in that strange
    way on the ground, believed me delirious, was deaf to all I
    said. At last I pushed my head among the luggage, and lodged it
    on the damp ground, and slept.

From Sherean, or Sheheran, out of which, after a night of burning fever
in the stable of the Chifflik post-station, Hassan furiously compelled
the dying man to ride, is a mountain track of a hundred and seventy
miles to Tokat. 'How wearisome and painful must have been his journey
over the mountains and valleys!' wrote the American missionaries, Eli
Smith and H.O. Dwight, eighteen years after, when, in the vigour of
health and at a better season, they made the same journey, called by his
example and memory, to found the Mission to Eastern Anatolia. Think of
him, wasting away from consumption, racked with ague, burning with
fever, as, pressed by the merciless Turk, he 'flew over hill and dale'
all the third day of October, from eight in the morning, then changed
horses at Sheheran, then 'travelled all the rest of the day and all
night' of the 3rd-4th, while the rain fell amid darkness that could be
felt; then, after three or four hours' sleep, on break of day again
hurried on, lest his guide should be arrested for a former offence of
'riding to death a horse belonging to a man of this place,' all the
fourth day, till almost expiring he sat on the ground and found refuge
in a stable, refusing to go farther. 'At last I pushed my head among the
luggage, and lodged it on the damp ground, and slept.' Since
Chrysostom's ride in the same region, the Church of Christ has seen no
torture of a saint like that.

    _October 5._--Preserving mercy made me see the light of another
    morning. The sleep had refreshed me, but I was feeble and
    shaken; yet the merciless Hassan hurried me off. The _munzil_,
    however, not being distant, I reached it without much
    difficulty. I expected to have found it another strong fort at
    the end of the pass, but it is a poor little village within the
    jaws of the mountain. I was pretty well lodged, and felt
    tolerably well till a little after sunset, when the ague came on
    with a violence I had never before experienced; I felt as if in
    a palsy, my teeth chattering and my whole frame violently
    shaken. Aga Hosein and another Persian, on their way here from
    Constantinople, going to Abbas Mirza whom I had just before been
    visiting, came hastily to render me assistance if they could.
    These Persians appear quite brotherly after the Turks. While
    they pitied me, Hassan sat in perfect indifference, ruminating
    on the further delay this was likely to occasion. The cold fit,
    after continuing two or three hours, was followed by a fever,
    which lasted the whole night and prevented sleep.

    _October 6._--No horses being to be had, I had an unexpected
    repose. I sat in the orchard and thought with sweet comfort and
    peace of my God, in solitude my Company, my Friend, and
    Comforter. Oh! when shall time give place to eternity! When
    shall appear that new heaven and new earth wherein dwelleth
    righteousness! There, there shall in no wise enter in anything
    that defileth: none of that wickedness which has made men worse
    than wild beasts, none of those corruptions which add still more
    to the miseries of mortality, shall be seen or heard of any
    more.

Sitting in the orchard, thinking with sweet comfort and peace of his
God, and longing for that new heaven and new earth wherein dwelleth
righteousness--such is the last sight we have of Henry Martyn, on
October 6, 1812. Two brotherly Persians, on their way from Constantinople,
had sought to minister to him the day before. The Turkish Hassan,
himself afraid of justice, 'sat in perfect indifference, ruminating on
the further delay' caused by his illness. What happened when the dying
apostle could write no more--in the ten days till God took him on
October 16--who shall now tell? Did the Turk hurry him, as he was
expiring, into Tokat, from 'that poor little village within the jaws of
the mountain,' in which he was 'pretty well lodged,' or did his
indomitable spirit give the poor body strength to ride into the town;
and did the plague, then raging, complete what hereditary disease and
fever had done? He had at least his Armenian servants, the 'trusty'
Melcom and Sergius, with him to minister to his wants. He had written
to Lydia of his journey to her by Constantinople, Syria, and Malta,
saying: 'Do I dream, that I venture to think and write of such an event
as that!... Soon we shall have occasion for pen and ink no more, but I
trust I shall shortly see thee face to face.' He dreamed indeed; for He
who is the only Love which is no dream, but the one transforming,
abiding, absorbing reality, called him, while yet a youth of thirty-one,
home to Himself.

FOOTNOTES:

[85] _The Historical Geography of Asia Minor_, vol. iv. of the Royal
Geographical Society's _Supplementary Papers_, John Murray, 1890.

[86] In his valuable book _Transcaucasia and Ararat_ (1877), Mr. James
Bryce, M.P., gives the meaning as 'The Only-Begotten descended.'

[87] A few years after, when Sir R. Ker Porter was on the same route,
he wrote: 'This was the spot where our apostolic countryman, Henry
Martyn, faint with fever and fatigue, alighted to bathe on his way to
Tokat.' There, too, Sir Robert was of opinion, Xenophon and the Ten
Thousand Greeks crossed the Araxes 2,300 years ago.



CHAPTER XIV

THE TWO RESTING-PLACES--TOKAT AND BREAGE


The Armenians were a comparatively strong community in Tokat, where they
formed a third of the population, for whom there were seven churches and
thirty priests. Henry Martyn was known as a friend of this, the oldest
church in Asia. He had sought out their priests and families all over
Persia and the Araxes valley, and ministered to many of this oppressed
people. The two servants with whom he had journeyed as far as Tokat were
Armenians, and he especially trusted Sergius, whom he had engaged at
Etchmiatzin, as one about to visit Constantinople, and not unfamiliar
with the route. The body of the wearied traveller to the city of the
Great King was laid to rest in the extensive cemetery of the church of
Karasoon Manoog. Later research revealed the fact that the body was
buried in simple and reverent Oriental fashion--not in a coffin, but in
such a white winding-sheet as that which for forty hours enwrapped the
Crucified. The story afterwards went that the chaplain-missionary of the
East India Company was carried to the tomb with all the honours of an
Armenian archbishop. That is most probable, for the Armenian clergy of
Calcutta, Bushire, and Shiraz always gave him priestly honours during
life. The other tradition--that his burial was hardly decent--has arisen
from the circumstances that attended the search for his grave and the
removal of his dust to the American Mission Cemetery forty years
afterwards.

[Illustration: _Sir R.K. Porter_

TOKAT IN 1812]

Far away, in the most distant corner of Asiatic Turkey, or Turkish
Arabia, at Baghdad, there was one[88] Anglo-Indian scholar and
Christian, who hastened to discharge the pious duty of carving on a
limestone slab above the precious remains a Latin inscription. That was
the East India Company's civil servant, James Claudius Rich. Born near
Dijon in 1787--six years after Martyn--and taken in his infancy to
Bristol, he there manifested such extraordinary linguistic powers, even
in boyhood, that Joshua Marshman, before he went out to Serampore,
helped him with books and introduced him to Dr. Ryland. Robert Hall
formed such an opinion of his powers, which the earliest Orientalist,
Sir Charles Wilkins, tested, that he received an appointment to the
Bombay Civil Service, and was introduced to Sir James Mackintosh. He
went to India overland through Turkish Asia, disguised as a Georgian
Turk, so that the Mecca pilgrims at Damascus did not discover him. He
married Sir James's eldest daughter,[89] and had set out as the
Company's Resident at Baghdad and Busrah, not long before Martyn arrived
at Bombay. The two men never met, for Martyn's attempt to enter Arabia
from Persia through Baghdad was stopped. But the young Orientalist
watched Martyn's career with admiration, and seems to have followed his
footsteps. In 1821 he himself was cut off by cholera, while ministering
to the plague-stricken in Shiraz, leaving a name imperishably associated
with that of Sir James Mackintosh, and dear to all Oriental scholars and
travellers, but henceforth to be remembered above all as that of the man
who was the first to perpetuate the memory of Henry Martyn.[90]

The sacred spot was immediately at the foot of slaty rocks down which
the winter snows and summer rains washed enough of stony soil every
year to cover up the horizontal slab. The first to visit it with
reverent steps after the pious commission of Claudius James Rich had
been executed, was Sir Robert Ker Porter. Although only a few years
had elapsed, he seems to have failed to see the inscription which
fitly commemorated the 'Sacerdos ac Missionarius Anglorum,' so that he
thus beautifully wrote: 'His remains sleep in a grave as humble as his
own meekness; but while that high pyramidal hill, marked with its
mouldering ruins of heathen ages, points to the sky, every European
traveller must see in it their honoured countryman's monument.'

In 1830, when the American Board's missionaries, Eli Smith and H.G.O.
Dwight, visited Tokat, they had little difficulty in finding the spot,
from which they wrote: 'An appropriate Latin inscription is all that
distinguishes his tomb from the tombs of the Armenians who sleep by
his side.'[91] They urged their Board to make Tokat its centre of
operations for the people of Second Armenia, as Cæsarea for those of
the First and Third Armenia, and Tarsus for those of Cilicia. As they,
reversing his northward journey, reached Tabreez sick, they were cared
for, first by Dr., afterwards Sir John McNeill, and then by Dr.
Cormick, the same physician who healed Martyn of a similar disease
when he was at this city. 'He seemed to have retained the highest
opinion of him as a Christian, a companion, and a scholar.'

In 1841 Mr. George Fowler published his _Three Years in Persia_, in
which a chapter is filled with reminiscences of Henry Martyn.

    Of this distinguished missionary and champion of the Cross, who
    fearlessly unfolded his banner and proclaimed Christ amongst the
    bigoted Mahometans, I have heard much in these countries, having
    made acquaintance with some persons who knew him, and saw (if I
    may so say) the last of him. At the General's table at Erzroom
    (Paskevitch), I had the honour to meet graffs and princes,
    consisting of Russians, Georgians, Circassians, Germans,
    Spaniards, and Persians, all glittering in their stars and
    orders, such a _mélange_ as is scarcely to be found again under
    one banner; looking more like a monarch's levy than anything
    else. My neighbour was an Armenian bishop, who, with his long
    flowing hair and beard, and austere habits, the cross being
    suspended to his girdle, presented a great contrast to the
    military chiefs. There were many other priests at the table, of
    whom he was the principal. He addressed me in my native tongue
    very tolerably, asking if I had known anything of the
    missionary, Martyn. The name was magic to my ear, and
    immediately our colloquy became to me of great interest.

    The bishop was the Serrafino of whom Martyn speaks in his
    _Journal_, I happening at the time to have it with me. He was
    very superior to the general caste of the Armenian clergy,
    having been educated at Rome, and had attained many European
    languages. He made Martyn's acquaintance at Etchmiatzin, the
    Armenian monastery at Erivan, where he had gone to pay a visit
    to the Patriarch or chief of that people, and remained three
    days to recruit his exhausted strength. He described him to me
    as being of a very delicate frame, thin, and not quite of the
    middle stature, a beardless youth, with a countenance beaming
    with so much benignity as to bespeak an errand of Divine love.
    Of the affairs of the world he seemed to be so ignorant, that
    Serrafino was obliged to manage for him respecting his
    travelling arrangements, money matters, etc. Of the latter he
    had a good deal with him when he left the monastery, and seemed
    to be careless, and even profuse, in his expenditure. He was
    strongly recommended to postpone his journey, but from his
    extreme impatience to return to England these remonstrances were
    unavailing. A Tartar was employed to conduct him to Tokat.
    Serrafino accompanied him for an hour or two on the way--with
    considerable apprehensions, as he told me, of his ever arriving
    in his native country.[92] He was greatly surprised, he said,
    not only to find in him all the ornaments of a refined
    education, but that he was so eminent a Christian; 'since (said
    he) all the English I have hitherto met with, not only make no
    profession of religion, but live seemingly in contempt of it.'

    I endeavoured to convince him that his impression of the English
    character was in this respect erroneous; that although a Martyn
    on the Asiatic soil might be deemed a phœnix, yet many such
    existed in that country which gave him birth; and I instanced to
    him the Christian philanthropy of my countrymen, which induced
    them to search the earth's boundaries to extend their faith. I
    told him of our immense voluntary taxation to aid the
    missionaries in that object, and of the numerous Christian
    associations,--for which the world was scarcely large enough to
    expend themselves upon.

    He listened with great attention, and then threw in the
    compliment, 'You English are very difficult to become acquainted
    with, but when once we know you we can depend on you.' He
    complained of some part of Martyn's _Journal_ referring to
    himself, respecting his then idea of retiring to India, to write
    and print some works in the Armenian language, tending to
    enlighten that people with regard to religion. He said that what
    followed of the errors and superstitions of the Armenian Church
    should not have been inserted in the book, nor did he think it
    would be found in Martyn's _Journal_. His complaint rested much
    on the compilers of the work in this respect; he said, 'these
    opinions were not exactly so expressed, and certainly they were
    not intended to come before the public, whereby they might
    ultimately be turned against me.'

    At Erzroom, on my way to Persia, I had met with an Italian
    doctor, then in the Pasha's employ, from whom I heard many
    interesting particulars respecting Martyn. He was at Tokat at
    the time of our countryman's arrival and death, which occurred
    on October 16, 1812; but whether occasioned by the plague, or
    from excessive fatigue by the brutal treatment of the Tartar, he
    could not determine. His remains were decently interred in the
    Armenian burying-ground, and for a time the circumstance was
    forgotten. Some years afterwards, a gentleman, at the request of
    the British ambassador in Constantinople, had a commemorative
    stone erected to his memory, and application was made to the
    Armenian bishop to seek the grave for that purpose. He seemed to
    have forgotten altogether such an occurrence, but referring to
    some memoranda which he had made of so remarkable a case as that
    of interring a Feringhi stranger, he was enabled to trace the
    humble tablet with which he had distinguished it. It is now
    ornamented with a white slab, stating merely the name, age, and
    time of death of the deceased.

    I had many reminiscences of Martyn, at Marand particularly. I
    quitted this place at midnight, just at the time and under the
    circumstances which he describes. 'It was a most mild and
    delightful night, and the pure air, after the smell of the
    stable, was reviving.' I was equally solitary with himself. I
    had attached great interest to my resting-place, believing it to
    have been the same on which Martyn had reposed, from his own
    description, as it was the usual reception for travellers, the
    _munzil_, or post-house. Here I found myself almost alone, as
    with Aliverdy, my guide, not three words of understanding
    existed between us. Martyn says, 'They stared at my European
    dress, but no disrespect was shown.' Exactly so with me: the
    villagers stood around questioning my attendant, who was showing
    me off, I know not why.

    Martyn's description of the stable was precisely what I found
    it; thus--'I was shown into the stable, where there was a little
    place partitioned off, but so as to admit a view of the horses.'
    He was 'dispirited and melancholy.' I was not a little touched
    with this in my solitariness, and sensibly felt with the poet:

        Thou dost not know how sad it is to stray
          Amid a foreign land, thyself unknown,
        And, when o'erwearied with the toilsome day,
          To rest at eve and feel thyself alone.

    At Khoi, on my return, I witnessed the Persian ceremony related
    by Martyn in his _Journal_ of the death of Imam Hussein--the
    anniversary of which is so religiously observed in that country.
    At Tabreez I heard much of him who was

                        Faithful found
        Among the faithless--faithful only he,
        Unshaken, unseduced, unterrifed,
        His loyalty he kept--his zeal--his love.

    I scarcely remember so bright an ornament to the Christian
    profession, on heathen land, as this hero of the Cross, who was
    'patient in tribulation, rejoicing in hope;' and I heard him
    thus spoken of by those who could estimate the _man_, and
    perhaps not appreciate the _missionary_--'If ever there was a
    saint on earth, it was Martyn; and if there be now an angel in
    heaven, it is Martyn.' Amidst the contumely of the bigoted
    Mussulmans, he had much to bear, as to the natural man, amongst
    whom he was called an 'Isauvi' (the term given to Christians).

    I know of no people where, to all human calculation, so little
    prospect opens of planting the Cross. The moollas are by no
    means averse to religious discussion, and still remember the
    'enlightened infidel,' as Martyn was called; but so bigoted are
    these benighted Moslems, and show so much zeal, as I noticed at
    their Ramazan, that they scorn us, and, I may say, they shame
    us. It is interesting, when looking at those dark regions, to
    inquire--when shall the Cross triumph over the Crescent? when
    shall the riches and power of the Gospel spread over their soil,
    root up the weeds of error, and produce the fruits of
    righteousness?

    Since the days of Martyn but little effort has been made by the
    Missionary Society to turn the tide of Christian philanthropy
    towards this country; but I would say, spite of the
    discouragements, Send your missionaries to this stronghold of
    Mahomet; here plant your standard of redeeming love to the
    wretched devotee of the impostor; to the sometime worshipper of
    the sun hang out the banner of the Sun of Righteousness; kindle
    in his bosom the flame of Divine truth, that the Holy Spirit, of
    which his former god was the emblem, may enlighten and guide him
    into the fold of Christ.

    It is gratifying to find from a paper in the _Asiatic Register_,
    the writer of which spent a few weeks at Shiraz, that the love
    and work of this distinguished missionary, although he saw no
    fruits from them, have in one instance proved that his labour
    has not been in vain in the Lord. He relates that in that city
    he met with an interesting character, Mahomed Rahim, who had
    been educated for a moolla; a man of considerable learning, and
    much attached to the English. He found him reading a volume of
    _Cowper's Poems_, and was astonished at the precision with which
    he expressed himself in English; this led to the subject of
    religion, when he acknowledged himself to be a Christian, and
    related the following circumstance.

    In the year of the Hegira 1223 there came to this city an
    Englishman, who taught the religion of Christ with a boldness
    hitherto unparalleled in Persia, in the midst of much scorn and
    ill-treatment from the moollas as well as the rabble. He was a
    beardless youth, and evidently enfeebled by disease; he dwelt
    among us for more than a year. I was then a decided enemy to
    infidels, as the Christians are termed by the followers of
    Mahomet, and I visited this teacher of the despised sect, for
    the purpose of treating him with scorn, and exposing his
    doctrines to contempt. Although I persevered in this conduct for
    some time, I found that every interview not only increased my
    respect for the individual, but diminished my confidence in the
    faith in which I was educated. His extreme forbearance towards
    the violence of his opponents, the calm and yet convincing
    manner in which he exposed the fallacies and sophistries by
    which he was assailed (for he spoke Persian excellently),
    gradually inclined me to listen to his arguments, to inquire
    dispassionately into the subject of them, and finally to read a
    tract which he had written in reply to _A Defence of Islam_, by
    our chief moollas. The result of my examination was a conviction
    that the young disputant was right. Shame, or rather fear,
    withheld me from this opinion; I even avoided the society of the
    Christian teacher, though he remained in the city so long. Just
    before he quitted Shiraz I could not refrain from paying him a
    farewell visit. Our conversation, the memory of which will never
    fade from the tablet of my mind, sealed my conversion. He gave
    me a book; it has been my constant companion; the study of it
    has formed my most delightful occupation; its contents have
    often consoled me. Upon this he put into my hand a copy of the
    New Testament in Persian; on one of the blank leaves was
    written, 'There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.
    HENRY MARTYN.'

The memory of Henry Martyn was borne by Mussulmans to Northern Africa,
and south to India again. The late Rev. Mr. Oakley, of St. Paul's,
Onslow Square, London, when travelling south of Algiers, met
Mohammedans who asked him if he were of the same tribe as Henry
Martyn, the man of God whose controversy at Shiraz and books they
knew. A Persian of gentle manners, who had a surprising knowledge of
the _Mesnevi_, that inexhaustible fountain of Soofi philosophy,
received a copy of Martyn's Persian New Testament. After fourteen
years' study of it, in silence, he applied to the nearest Christian,
an Armenian bishop, for baptism unto Christ. Fearing the consequences,
the bishop sent on the catechumen to the Armenian priests at Calcutta,
who, equally afraid that the news would reach the Persian authorities,
handed him over to the Rev. E.C. Stuart, then the Church Missionary
Society's secretary there, and a Persian scholar, now Bishop of
Waiapu. Mr. Stuart took him as his guest, found that he delighted in
instruction in the New Testament, and baptized him. Ultimately the
convert went back to Persia as one who 'had gained a sincere faith in
Christ from the simple reading of H. Martyn's Persian Testament.'

In 1842 the learned Bombay chaplain, George Percy Badger, visited
Tokat on a mission from the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of
London to the Nestorian tribes of Koordistan. He was guided to Henry
Martyn's first tomb by the Armenian priest who had performed the rites
of Christian burial. While Mrs. Badger sought out and planted wild
flowers around the stone, her husband, recalling the fervent zeal and
ardent piety of the departed, 'lifted up a secret prayer that God in
His mercy would raise up many of a like spirit to labour among the
benighted Mohammedans of the East.'[93]

Adopting the report of their missionaries in 1830, the American Board
at Boston sent out Dr. Henry J. van Lennep, who first visited Tokat
fourteen years after them, and thirty-two years after Henry Martyn's
death. The first object of his attention was the grave, which then he
had great difficulty in discovering and identifying. It was this
experience, and not any earlier facts, that must have led to the
publication of these lines:

    No stone marks the spot where these ashes are resting,
      No tear has e'er hallowed thy cold, lonely grave,
    But the wild warring winds whistle round thy bleak dwelling,
      And the fierce wintry torrent sweeps o'er it with its wave.

In his _Travels in Little Known Parts of Asia Minor_,[94] Dr. van
Lennep writes:

    The Armenian burying-ground, where he was laid, is situated just
    outside of the town, and hard by the wretched gipsy quarter
    which forms its eastern extremity. It is a most barren and
    desolate spot, overhung by lofty cliffs of clay slate. Its only
    verdure, besides the rank weeds that spring up between the
    thickly set graves, consists of two scraggy wild pear-trees
    nearly dead for lack of moisture. The sexton of the church near
    by could give no information, and I was left to search for it
    alone. Beginning at the graves lying at the outer edge of the
    ground nearest the road, I advanced towards the hill, examining
    each in its turn, until just at the foot of the overhanging
    cliffs I came upon a slab of coarse limestone, some forty inches
    by twenty, bearing the following inscription:

                  Rev . Vir .
              Gug[95] . Martino .
          Sacer . Ac . Miss . Anglo .
            Quem . In . Patr . Redi .
                  Dominus
        Hic . Berisae . Ad . Sb . Voc .
          Pium . D . Fidel . Q . Ser .
              A.D. MDCCCXII.
            Hunc . Lap . Consac .
                  C. I. R.
              A.D. MDCCCXIII.

    It was just ten years after this first visit that I was again in
    Tokat, not on a transient visit, but with the purpose of making
    that city my permanent abode. A little party of us soon repaired
    to the hallowed spot. Guided by my recollections and a drawing
    made at my previous visit, we were soon at the place; but in the
    last few years it had undergone a remarkable change. Instead of
    the slab of stone with its inscription, which we expected to
    see, we only found a smooth surface of pebbly and sandy soil
    overgrown with weeds, without vestige of stone or mound to
    indicate the presence of a grave; but the identical surroundings
    were there, too well remembered to be mistaken. Could it be
    that, as happens in these lawless regions, the stone had been
    removed by some ruthless hand and incorporated in the wall of a
    neighbouring building? We could not accept that unpleasant
    conclusion, and, calling the sexton, we directed him to dig
    where we pointed. It was at a depth of two feet from the surface
    that the stone came into view: the soil and rubbish accumulated
    upon the grave were then removed, and we hoped the place would
    hereafter need little attention. But, to our surprise, we found
    it again, the ensuing spring, covered to the same depth as
    before. The soil was washed upon it by the rains from the whole
    mountain side, and we found that were a wall built for its
    protection, the gipsy boys, who made this their playground,
    would soon have it down.

    Some time after this, a correspondence took place with friends
    in London, which resulted in a grant being made by the late Hon.
    East India Company's Board of Directors, for the purpose of
    erecting a more suitable monument to the memory of Henry Martyn,
    to be placed with his remains in the Mission Burying-ground. The
    monument was cut out of native marble, and made by native
    workmen at Tokat. The remains were removed under the inspection
    of the missionary physician, and though it was difficult
    positively to identify them, there can be no doubt that what was
    found once formed a portion of the earthly tenement of the
    devoted and lamented missionary. There were no remains of a
    coffin; Orientals never use them, and he was doubtless laid in
    immediate contact with the soil, literally 'dust to dust.' The
    monument under which we laid these remains was the first grave
    in our little cemetery, and well might it be said that it
    became sacred ground. The obelisk has four faces, on each of
    which the name, encircled with a wreath, is cut, severally in
    English, Armenian, Persian, and Turkish. The four sides of the
    base contain the following inscription in the same languages:

                         REV. HENRY MARTYN, M.A.

                 CHAPLAIN OF THE HON. EAST INDIA COMPANY,
                BORN AT TRURO, ENGLAND, FEBRUARY 18, 1781,
                    DIED AT TOKAT, OCTOBER 16, 1812.

            HE LABOURED FOR MANY YEARS IN THE EAST, STRIVING TO
           BENEFIT MANKIND BOTH IN THIS WORLD AND THAT TO COME.
            HE TRANSLATED THE HOLY SCRIPTURES INTO HINDOSTANEE
                              AND PERSIAN,
          AND PREACHED THE GOD AND SAVIOUR OF WHOM THEY TESTIFY.
           HE WILL LONG BE REMEMBERED IN THE EAST, WHERE HE WAS
                         KNOWN AS A MAN OF GOD.

    The grave now lies in a spot every way adapted to foster the
    holy memories which it recalls. It stands upon a broad and high
    terrace, overlooking the whole city for whose salvation we
    cannot doubt that he offered some of the last petitions 'of the
    righteous man, which avail much.' It is a solitude, immediately
    surrounded by the thick foliage of fruit trees, among which tall
    walnuts are conspicuous. We ourselves planted by its side the
    only weeping willows which exist in the whole region. The place
    is visited by many, who read the concise inscription and further
    inquire into the good man's history. It has always been a
    favourite place of resort of our students and native Christians,
    and they have many a time sat under its shade and expounded to
    wondering strangers the very doctrines to propagate which that
    model of a missionary had sacrificed his life.

[Illustration: TOMB OF HENRY MARTYN]

Tokat is now for ever memorable as the centre which links the names of
Basiliscus, the martyr, Basil the Great, John Chrysostom, and Henry
Martyn. The cloud-crested fortress points almost straight up from the
Jeshil-Irmak river, the ancient Iris, which, rising in the Anti-Taurus
range of Pontus, finds its way to the Black Sea with a breadth and
volume of water second only to the Halys. Still, as of old, the town
crowds about the foot of the two spiral crags and straggles out with
towered church, mosque and minaret, into the valley. The ruins of the
embattled walls crowning every pinnacle of the insulated rocks of which
they seem to form a part, tell of the days when Greek and Roman passed
along the 'royal road' from Amisos or Samsoon on the Euxine to Sebaste,
Caesareia, and Central Asia; and when the Saracens beat off the Emperor
Michael (860) from what was then called Daximon.[96] The time is coming
when there shall once more be here a highway of civilisation after the
barren centuries of the Moslem.

Tokat represents Komana Pontica, six miles off, the oracle and
emporium of the royal road, described by Strabo as a little Corinth
for vice and traffic. Another step, and the Apostle Paul himself might
have visited it from Galatia. In 312, in the persecution under
Maximin, Basiliscus, the bishop of Komana, was martyred, being shod
with red-hot iron shoes, beheaded, and thrown into the Iris. The
_Acta_ picture the saint as led on foot by soldiers along the road
without food for four days, till he reached Komana; 'and the road was
much the same as the modern way, Tokat to Amaseia,' along which Henry
Martyn was violently hurried by his Tartar. In the martyrium, built a
few miles out of Komana, in memory of Basiliscus, Chrysostom found
rest in death, and a grave.

Basilius, the bishop of Caesareia, belonged to the neighbouring
province of Cappadocia, but his missionary influence, and that of his
bishop brother, Gregory Nyssen, and his sister, Macrina, spread all
over Pontus, while Gregory Nazianzen was his fellow-student at Athens,
and his admiring friend, as Julian also, the future Emperor, was for a
time. Like Martyn, Basil owed to his sister his conversion, his call
to the ministry, and his self-sacrifice all through life. It was on
the banks of the Iris above Tokat that, secluded for five years, the
great Father laid the foundation of the monastic communities of the
Greek Church, and learned to be the future defender of orthodoxy
against the Arians, and of the unity of the Oriental Church.

But it is the exile and death of John Chrysostom, just fourteen
centuries before, that form the most touching parallel to the sufferings
of Henry Martyn. Never has there been a greater missionary bishop than
the 'golden-mouthed' preacher of Antioch and Constantinople. The victim
first of a cabal of bishops, and then of the Empress Eudoxia, whose
vices and sacrilege he rebuked, he was driven from Constantinople to the
scorching plains of Cappadocia in the midsummer heat. His guard drove on
the venerable man day and night, giving him no rest. When a halt was
made, it was always in some filthy village where good water was not.
Fever and ague were provoked, but still he was forced on to Basil's city
of Caesareia, to find Basil's successor his bitter enemy. Taking a
physician with him he reached his destination at Kokussos, where the
Empress had hoped that the barbarians would make an end of him. As it
seemed likely to prove his Tabreez, he was once more driven forth on
foot, under two guards selected for their brutality. It took him three
months to reach Komana--one long, slow martyrdom to the fever-stricken
old man. 'It was evident that Chrysostom's strength was entirely worn
out,' writes Canon Venables, in words which exactly describe the
experience of the young Henry Martyn. 'But his pitiless guard hurried
him through the town "as if its streets were no more than a bridge,"
without a moment's halt.' Five miles farther on they halted at the
chapel of the martyr Basiliscus, of whom Chrysostom dreamed that he saw
him and heard him say: 'Be of good cheer; on the morrow we shall be
together.' Canon Venables continues, unconsciously, the parallel with
the experience of the nineteenth-century saint of the Evangel:

    In the morning Chrysostom earnestly begged for a brief respite,
    but in vain. He was hurried off, but scarcely had he gone three
    or four miles when a violent attack of fever compelled them to
    retrace their steps.

On reaching the martyrium, Chrysostom, led within, stripped on his
soiled garments, clothed himself in white baptismal vestments, joined
in the communion of the body and blood of the Lord Jesus Christ,
offered his last prayer 'for present needs,' uttered his accustomed
doxology: 'Glory be to God for all things,' and, having said 'Amen,'
breathed his last on September 14, 407, in his sixtieth year. His body
was laid beside that of Basiliscus. A generation after, the children
of the Empress and Emperor who had thus slaughtered the saint brought
back his body and gave it imperial sepulture in Constantinople, while
they publicly asked Heaven to forgive the wrong of the past.

From Basiliscus, Basil, and Chrysostom to Henry Martyn, the fourteen
centuries tell of the corruption of the Church of Christ in the East,
and the rise upon its ruins of Mohammedanism, which covered the northern
half of Africa, and Spain, and reached as far as Tours and Vienna in
Europe. It is to the glory of Henry Martyn that he was the first
missionary of the Reformed Church of the West to the Mohammedans, giving
those of India and Central Asia the Gospel and the Psalms in two of
their own vernaculars, and dying for them before he could complete his
work at the Arabic Bible.

We shall see whom his example inspired to follow him. His death became
a summons, first to his own evangelical circle in England and India,
and then to the whole Church of Christ, to follow in the path that he
marked out alike by his toiling and his writing.

Sergius, the Armenian, must at once have pursued the journey from
Tokat to Constantinople, which is distant from Tabreez 1,542 miles,
and not 1,300 as roundly estimated by Henry Martyn. He presented the
letters of his master to Mr. Isaac Morier, in the Sultan's capital,
father of Sir Gore Ouseley's secretary and successor. On February 12,
1813, Charles Simeon wrote thus to Mr. Thomason in Calcutta:

    The day before yesterday a letter arrived from Mr. Isaac Morier,
    of Constantinople, announcing that on October 16 (or
    thereabouts) our beloved brother entered into the realms of
    glory, and rested for ever in the bosom of his God.... But what
    an event it is! How calamitous to his friends, to India, and to
    the world! Methinks I hear God say: 'Be still and know that I am
    God.' ... I had been forming plans in my mind with a view to the
    restoration of his health in England, and should now have been
    able to carry into execution whatever might have been judged
    expedient; but I am denied the joy of ministering to him!

Again on April 2:

    We are making collections for Mr. Martyn's brother's family, who
    in him have lost their main support. We have got about 400_l._,
    and Mr. Thornton has sent you a paper for the purpose of getting
    them some aid in India.

The news reached Lydia Grenfell on February 14, 1813. She was then for
a fortnight at Marazion, where every spot recalled the past. She thus
communed with herself and God in her _Diary_:

                                        Marazion: February 20, 1813.

    I am fearful to retrace the last week on two accounts, lest the
    infirmity of nature prevail, and I give way to sorrow,--and
    lest, in recollecting the wondrous kindness and love of God my
    Saviour, I increase my pride and not my gratitude. Oh, shall I
    then remain silent? Shall Thy mercies be forgotten? Teach me, O
    Lord, to write and speak for Thy glory, and to my own deeper
    humiliation. Heard on the 14th of the removal of my most tender,
    faithful, and beloved friend to the joys of heaven. Oh, I could
    not wish his absence from them prolonged. What I only wished
    was, and now I am reconciled to that too,--I wished to have been
    honoured of God so far as to have been near him, or that some
    friend had been.[97] Lord, if this was wrong, forgive me. I will
    endeavour, yea, I am enabled to say of this too, 'Thy will be
    done.' Great has been the peace and tranquillity of my soul,
    such nearness to God, such a hold of Christ, such hope in the
    promises, such assurance of bliss and immortality, as I cannot
    express, and may have to forget. Oh, that I may never
    lose,--rather would I lose everything I most prize, every
    earthly friend, every earthly enjoyment, than this. Oh, the fear
    of doing so, or of the abatement of spiritual perceptions and
    affections, is the thing I most dread, and makes me long to die.
    It is not for the sake of rejoining that blessed spirit of my
    friend, though I have, and do, feel that too,--but to be again
    shut out from Thy possession is what I fear.

    _February 28._--A silent Sabbath, at least to me,--to my ears, I
    should say, for I trust God speaks to my heart. 'Comfort ye,
    comfort ye, My people,' enables me to take comfort. I feel a
    submission to the will of God which is more blessed than when I
    had my own in the ministry of the Word,--yet this is a time
    which calls for prayer. Lord, pour out the spirit of prayer on
    me and many, and grant us grace to ask, fervently yet
    resignedly, the restoration of Thy preached gospel. Suddenly are
    we deprived of it,--may it be as quickly restored. Very weak in
    health, so powerless this morning,--I could not but think my
    earthly bed was preparing for me too, and that my soul would
    soon return to God, but I am better, and willing to stay my
    appointed time. True, to perform my work in a little time might
    be what I should rejoice in, but I am willing to live, so I may
    have the presence of God with me, and be engaged in His service.
    I have a pleasure in supposing it possible the blessed spirit of
    my friend may be, on some occasions, sent to protect, to
    console, and counsel me,--but this is a weakness, and perhaps
    should not be indulged. I felt this afternoon as if he was
    present, as I sat alone in the garden,--the thought only
    disposed me to solemnity and pensiveness of mind. I am afraid of
    my dependence on the creature, whether embodied or not, and I
    will rather trust to the sure support of God's Word.

    _March 2._--Some sorrowful thoughts will enter my mind
    respecting my late dear friend, and call forth some sighs and
    tears from my heart,--yet is that heart resigned to the will of
    God, and confident of His having done all things well for His
    beloved servant. Oh, how shall I, with wonder and praise, listen
    in eternity to the relation of his last days! The excess of
    affection now, and the unwillingness I feel that he should have
    suffered, make it amongst my mercies that a veil is drawn over
    that period of his life. It is mercy all, and God is good to me
    in everything. I see His hand, I love and I adore. I submit and
    resign myself to His blessed disposal and to all His
    dispensations. I have been thinking how necessary for me it was
    that we are thus separated; for during his life I felt such a
    desire to please and to be worthy of the regard he entertained
    for me, that it was my bane, and caused me to forget God as the
    first object I was to think of and please. I accept the
    punishment sent for this offence, may it prove an effectual cure
    of this evil in my heart!

    _March 8._--During the last few days I have experienced much of
    the Divine support and consolation of the Gospel. It has been a
    time of conflict, not inward, blessed be the name of the Lord. I
    have enjoyed a constant, uninterrupted peace, a peace past an
    understanding, unless experienced. I never was more sensible of,
    or rejoiced more in the presence of God, and my heart rises to
    my Maker with delight and joy, as easily as I breathe. God, 'as
    soon as sought, is found,' through Jesus Christ,--but I have
    been put into the hands of a bitter enemy, and that enemy....
    She has left me, and I pray that every uneasy feeling excited in
    my breast by her unkind and injurious treatment may depart with
    her. Oh, how I rejoice that no storms can molest the dead