FRUITS OF LABOR IN NESTORIAN HOMES.
USEFULNESS AMONG RELATIVES OF PUPILS.--DEACON GUWERGIS.--REFORMED
DRUNKARD AND HIS DAUGHTER.--MATERNAL MEETINGS.---EARLY INQUIRERS FROM
GEOG TAPA.--PARTING ADDRESS OF MR. HOLLADAY.--VISIT TO GEOG
TAPA.--SELBY AND HER CLOSET.
Having thus glanced at early labors for women in the Seminary and in
the villages, let us now turn to another field of usefulness among the
relatives of the pupils, who came to visit them in school; and here we
are at no loss for a notable illustration.
In the autumn of 1845, Deacon Guwergis, of Tergawer,--and almost every
reader was either priest or deacon,--brought his oldest daughter, then
about twelve years of age, and begged for her admission to the
Seminary. He was known as one of the vilest and most defiantly
dissolute of the Nestorians, and Miss Fiske shrunk from receiving the
daughter of such a man into her flock. Yet, on the ground that, like
her Master, she was sent not to the righteous, but to the lost, she
concluded to receive her. Still the father, during his short stay,
showed such a spirit of avarice and shameless selfishness,--he even
asked for the clothes his daughter had on when she came,--that she
rejoiced when he went away.
His home was twenty-five miles off, in the mountains, and she hoped
that winter snows would soon shield her from his dreaded visits. Little
did she think that his next coming would result in his salvation. In
February he again presented himself at her door in his Koordish
costume, gun, dagger, and belt of ammunition all complete. He came on
Saturday, when many of the pupils were weeping over their sins; and the
teacher could not but feel that the wolf had too truly entered the
fold. He ridiculed their anxiety for salvation, and opposed the work of
grace, in his own reckless way. She tried to guard her charge from his
attacks as best she could; but they were too divinely convinced of sin
to be much affected by what he said. His own daughter, at length,
distressed at his conduct, begged him to go alone with her to pray.
(The window on the right of the central door of the Seminary points out
the place.) Ho mocked and jeered, but went, confident in his power to
cure her superstition. "Do you not think that I too can pray?" And he
repeated over his form in ancient Syriac, as a wizard would mutter his
incantation. His child then implored mercy for her own soul, and for
her perishing father, as a daughter might be expected to do, just
awakened to her own guilt and the preciousness of redemption. As he
heard the words "Save, O, save my father, going down to destruction,"
he raised his clinched hand to strike; but, as he said afterwards, "God
held me back from it." No entreaties of his daughter could prevail on
him to enter the place of prayer again that day.
The native teacher, Murad Khan, then recently converted, took him to
his own room, and reasoned with him till late at night. Sabbath morning
found him not only fixed in his rebellion, but toiling to prevent
others coming to Christ. At noon Miss Fiske went to the room where he
was. (The two lower windows on the right of the engraving of the
Seminary mark the place.) He sat in the only chair there, and never
offered her a seat; so she stood by him, and tried to talk; but he
sternly repelled every attempt to speak of Jesus. She then took his
hand, and said, "Deacon Guwergis, I see you do not wish me to speak
with you, and I promise you that I will never do it again unless you
wish it; but pledge me one thing: when we stand together in judgment,
and you are on the left hand, as you must be if you go on in your
present course, promise me that you will then testify, that on this
twenty-second day of February, 1846, you were warned of your danger."
He gave no pledge, but a weeping voice said, "Let me pray." The hand
was withdrawn, and he passed into the adjoining room, whence soon
issued a low voice, that Miss Fiske could hardly yet believe was
prayer. The bell rung for meeting, and she sent her precious charge
alone, while she staid to watch the man whose previous character and
conduct led her to fear that he was only feigning penitence in order to
plunder the premises undisturbed. She staid till a voice seemed to say,
What doest thou here, Elijah? then went and took her place in the
chapel; soon the door opened again very gently, and Deacon Guwergis
entered; but how changed! His gun and dagger were laid aside; the folds
of his turban had fallen over his forehead; his hands were raised to
his face; and the big tears fell in silence; he sank into the nearest
seat, and laid his head upon the desk. After Mr. Stoddard had
pronounced the blessing, Miss Fiske requested Mr. Stocking to see
Deacon Guwergis.
He took him to his study, and there, in bitterness of soul, the recent
blasphemer cried out, "O my sins! my sins! they are higher than the
mountains of Jeloo." "Yes," said Mr. Stocking, "but if the fires of
hell could be out, you would not be troubled--would you?" The strong
man now bowed down in his agony, exclaiming, "Sir, even if there were
no hell, I could not bear this load of sin. I could not live as I have
lived."
That night he could not sleep. In the morning, Miss Fiske begged Mr.
Stoddard to see him, and after a short interview he returned, telling
her that the dreaded Guwergis was sitting at the feet of Jesus. "My
great sins," and "My great Saviour," was all that he could say. He was
subdued and humble, and before noon left for his mountain home, saying,
as he left, "I must tell my friends and neighbors of sin and of Jesus."
Yet he trembled in view of his own weakness, and the temptations that
might befall him. Nothing was heard from him for two weeks, when Priest
Eshoo was sent to his village, and found him in his own house, telling
his friends "of sin and of Jesus." He had erected the family altar, and
at that moment was surrounded by a company weeping for their sins. So
changed was his whole character, and so earnest were his exhortations,
that for a time some looked on him as insane; but the sight of his
meekness and forgiving love under despiteful usage amazed them, and
gave them an idea of vital piety they never had before. He returned to
Oroomiah, bringing with him his wife, another child, and brother, and
soon found his way to Miss Fiske's room. As he opened the door, she
stood on the opposite side; but the tears were in his eyes, and
extending his hand as he approached, he said, "I know you did not
believe me; but you will love me--will you not?" And she did love him,
and wondered at her own want of faith. In a few days, he was able to
tell Mr. Stocking, with holy joy, that two of his brothers were
anxiously seeking the way of life. His own growth in grace surprised
every one, and his views of salvation by grace were remarkably clear
and accurate.
When his daughter returned to school, on the 30th of March, she was
accompanied by one of her father's brothers, who seemed to have cast
away his own righteousness, and to rely on Christ alone for pardon. As
no missionary had conversed with him, Mr. Stocking felt desirous to
know how he had been led into the kingdom, and learned that he had
promised Deacon Guwergis to spend the Sabbath with one of the native
teachers of the Female Seminary. This teacher and others prayed with
him, till he threw away his dagger, saying, "I have no more use for
this," and in tears cried out, "What shall I do to be saved?" He gave
no evidence then of having submitted to Christ, but in his mountain
home he seemed to make a full surrender, and became well acquainted
with the mercy seat. The native helpers felt that he was moving
heavenward faster than themselves. In April, it was found that as many
as nine persons in Hakkie, the village of Deacon Guwergis, gave
evidence of regeneration, five of them members of his own family; and
the whole village listened to the truth which the zealous deacon
constantly taught.
He always remembered the school as his spiritual birthplace, and ever
loved to pray for it. Once, when rising from his knees in the Male
Seminary, where he had been leading in evening devotion, he exclaimed,
"O God, forgive me. I forgot to pray for Miss Fiske's school." So he
knelt again and prayed for it. And Mr. Stoddard said he did not think
there was a smile on a single face, it was done with such manifest
simplicity and godly sincerity.
In June, 1846, Miss Fiske visited Hakkie with Mr. and Mrs. Stocking. It
was the first time ladies had been in the mountains, and the good
deacon was greatly delighted. Labors were then commenced for females
there that have been continued ever since. The annexed sketch will give
a more vivid idea of the nature of such labors than the most accurate
description. One day the party was toiling up a rough ascent, and the
deacon, as much at home among the rocks as the wild goats, offered his
assistance. The reply was, "We get on very well." At once his eyes
filled, and he said, "You once helped me in a worse road; may I not now
help you?" And his aid was at once gratefully accepted. At the top of
the hill, while the party rested, they heard his voice far off among
the clefts of the rocks, pleading for them and their relatives in
distant America.
[Illustration: MISSIONARY SCENE IN TEEGAWER.]
After his conversion, the deacon devoted himself to labors for souls,
especially in the mountains. One might always see a tear and a smile on
his face, and he was ever ready, as at first, to speak "of sin and of
Jesus." He traversed the mountains many times on foot, with his
Testament and hymn book in his knapsack. In the rugged passes, he would
sing, "Rock of Ages, cleft for me," and at the spring by the wayside,
"There is a fountain filled with blood" flowed spontaneously from his
lips. He warned every man, night and day, with tears, and pointed them
to Jesus as their only hope. He rested from his labors March 12th,
1856, and, as his mind wandered in the delirium of that brain fever, he
dwelt much on those days when he first learned the way to Christ. He
would say, "O, Miss Fiske was right when she pointed out that way;" and
then he would shout, "Free grace! free grace!" till he sunk away
unconscious. Again he would say, "That blessed Mr. Stocking! O, it was
free grace." These were almost his last words. The daughter who prayed
with him that first Saturday was by his dying bed, and her voice in
prayer was the last earthly sound that fell upon his ear.
It may strike the reader as strange that a man so notorious for
wickedness as Deacon Guwergis was, should be allowed in the Seminary;
but Oriental notions of hospitality are widely different from ours; and
in order to do good to a people, however rude, they must feel that you
are their friend. No protection from government can take the place of
this feeling of affectionate confidence from the people; and while
sufficient help was at hand to repel any overt wickedness, the highest
usefulness required that patient love should have its perfect work, and
in this case, at least, its labor was not unrewarded.
The usefulness of the Seminary among the relatives of its pupils was
illustrated in another case that occurred about the same time. March
2d, 1846, the father of one of the girls called and inquired, with
tears, if his daughter was troubled for her sins. Surprised at such an
inquiry from a notorious drunkard, he was exhorted to seek his own
salvation. He then told how he had been taught the plague of his own
heart, and, as a ruined sinner, was clinging to Christ alone. His
prayers showed that he was no stranger at the throne of grace. Father
and daughter spent the evening mingling their supplications and tears
before the mercy seat. The daughter had given more trouble than any in
school, and several times had almost been sent away. Four days later,
her mother came, and remained several days, almost the whole time in
tears, and hardly speaking, except to pray. Her daughter and the pious
members of the school were unwilling to let her go till she came to
Christ, and she seemed to take him for her Saviour before she left. She
was a sister of Priest Abraham, and had been so exceedingly clamorous
and profane in her opposition to religion, that her brother had for
years dreaded to see her. How did he rejoice, when, instead of the
customary oath, he found her uttering the praises of her Saviour! The
sister of her husband had been one of the vainest of the vain, wearing
an amount of ornament unusual even for a Nestorian; but she no sooner
put on the righteousness of Christ than she sold her ornaments, and,
giving the proceeds to the poor, clothed herself with that modest
apparel which becometh women professing godliness. The husband himself,
though an illiterate laborer, preached the gospel while at work in the
field, and often took two or three of his associates aside to pray with
them, and to tell them of Christ and his salvation.
But these cases must suffice: we can only indicate the ways in which
the school became a centre of holy influence, especially for woman; but
it is impossible to narrate all the facts.
After the revival, the Seminary was thronged with visitors, who desired
the time to be filled up with religious instruction. That year
witnessed a rich ingathering of wives and mothers, brought by their
converted husbands and children to be taught the way of salvation. The
teacher who received visitors always found enough to do both by day and
by night. As soon as there were two praying women in a village, Miss
Fiske and Miss Rice sought to establish female prayer meetings; and
when they visited a village, the women expected to be called together
for prayer; and when the women returned the visit, they each sought to
be prayed and conversed with alone. This was done also with the
communicants generally three times a year. The prayers and remarks of
the pious members of the school often gave a high spiritual tone to the
weekly prayer meeting. Occasionally there were maternal meetings; and
on such occasions one teacher met with the mothers, and the other with
the children in a separate room.
These took the place of the early meetings with women mentioned in the
beginning of the chapter, and were very useful.
Nestorian families have been already described in part, but the absence
of the religious element in them can hardly be realized by Christians
here. They did not believe that a child was possessed of a soul until
it was forty days old. This belief affected all their feelings towards
children, and their custom of burying unbaptized infants outside of
their cemeteries did not serve to correct such impressions.
Family registers were unknown. In 1835, probably not five Nestorians
could tell their birthday, and but few knew in what year they were
born. Miss Fiske kept a list of all the children, which was read at
every meeting; but at first she could record the birth of only the very
youngest. The deceased children were written down in a separate page,
and it was sad to see how much they exceeded the number of the living.
One childless mother, who had buried eleven, was always present; for
she said she wanted to pray for the children of others, though her own
were not. They assembled in Miss Fiske's room, sometimes to the number
of thirty, with, such of their little ones as were too small to attend
the other meeting, and, seated on the floor around her, were never more
happy than when telling their troubles, asking questions, and receiving
instructions about family duties, much more specific than could be
given on other occasions. Now and then she read to them, from English
books, facts and truths adapted to their needs. One good man in
Fairhaven, Connecticut, who had heard of this, sent a complete set of
the Mother's Magazine, to be used in that way. So interested were they,
that many of them walked regularly three miles and back again, under a
burning sun, to enjoy these gatherings; and from a monthly, it had to
be changed to a weekly meeting. It sometimes lasted three hours, but
never seemed to them too long; and, commenced in 1850, it is still kept
up with as much regularity as Miss Rice's many other duties will allow.
It would be interesting to dwell on its results; but a single incident
may suffice. One mother, whose husband was not a Christian, was very
regular in private devotion, but thought she could not offer prayer in
the family, till her husband became dangerously sick, when, in the
agony of her intercession for him, she vowed that, if God would spare
him, she would establish family prayer. So, as soon as he was able to
bear it, she gathered her children around his bed, and after they had
read the first chapter of Matthew, verse about, she led in prayer, and
so went on reading the New Testament in the morning and the Old
Testament in the evening, till she got through with the whole of the
former, before any one of the missionaries knew that she had commenced.
The teachers of the Seminary enjoyed very much the visits of the early
inquirers from Geog Tapa, in the summer of 1845, most of whom became
hopefully pious the following winter. Let us look in on one visit made
towards the end of May. A pupil announces that two women below wish to
see Miss Fiske; and a middle-aged stranger is shown into her room. In
answer to the usual inquiry, "From whence do you come?" she replies, "I
have come from Geog Tapa, for I have heard that you have repented, and
I want to know about it." She has walked six miles on purpose to make
the inquiry. "I wish that you, too, had repented," calls forth the
reply, "Alas, I have not! I am on my way to destruction." Feeling that
the Bible was the safest guide for such an inquirer, Miss Fiske reads
appropriate portions, explaining as she reads. The visitor shows a
great deal of Bible knowledge for one who cannot read, indicating that
she had not been inattentive to the faithful instructions of Priest
Abraham and Deacon John, and her questions are numerous and intensely
practical. Among other things, she asked, "Is it true, that for one sin
Adam and Eve were cast out of Eden?" and on being told that it was so,
"There," said she, turning to the unconcerned neighbor, who had come
with her, "do you hear that? What will become of you and me, who have
sinned so often?" At length prayer was proposed, to which she eagerly
and tearfully assented; and though the tongue that commended her to
Jesus, in that strange language, might have faltered, the heart did not
share in the embarrassment. The woman, like the first inquirer,
repeated every word of the prayer in a low whisper, as though unwilling
to lose a single syllable. The conversation was then resumed till it
was interrupted by the entrance of some of the pupils on business.
"Have you finished?" was the woman's eager inquiry. "I wish very much
to hear more of these things." Her companion now begged her to go home.
"No," was the kind reply; "you may go, but I must stay here to
prayers." Evening prayers were earlier than usual that evening for her
sake, but still she lingered. She had not yet found rest. Selby, one of
Mrs. Grant's pupils, then in the Seminary, now conversed with her; and
as there seemed to be a sympathy between them (Selby had recently found
peace in believing), they were left by themselves. After supper, Selby
remained with her an hour or more, that they might pray together, till
it was quite dark, and her friends had sent for her repeatedly. She
left, having first begged permission to come in to morning prayers.
Morning came, and before sunrise she was again listening intently to
the reading of the Word, and, after devotions, left for home, earnestly
begging Miss Fiske to come and spend a week in Geog Tapa.
The Seminary was dismissed June 5th. On that day, several hundreds of
the parents and friends of the pupils, in both Seminaries, were invited
to a simple entertainment, got up in native style. The gentlemen of the
mission ate in one room, with the men and boys, and the ladies in
another, with their own sex. The confidence and kind feeling manifested
by all towards the school was very gratifying. After dinner, the whole
company, seated in the court, listened to an address from Mr. Holladay,
then about to return home. He spoke to parents and children on their
duties, privileges, and responsibilities: towards the close, he spoke
of the almost certainty of never meeting them again till the judgment,
and bade them an affectionate farewell. His utterance was often choked,
and his hearers wept; and well they might, for in him they parted with
a faithful friend. During the exercises, the members of the two schools
sang, twice, to the great gratification of their friends.
That evening most of the pupils went home, all but a few of the girls
carrying with them a copy of the four Gospels, in modern Syriac, which
they had paid for with their needles.
Miss Fiske left for Geog Tapa on the 14th of June with Mr. Stocking,
reaching that place as the people were coming out from evening prayers
in the church. The first to welcome them were six pupils, residents in
the village, who greeted their teacher with a hearty good will. Next to
them came Pareza, the inquirer, changed somewhat in her feelings, but
with no loss of religious interest. John, too, was there (the native
pastor): he had been busy, day and night, instructing the people, and
had taken special care of the pupils, that they might both improve
themselves and exert a good influence on others. When Mr. Stocking
asked him about matters in the village, "O sir," said he, "it is a very
good time here now; very many love to hear the truth; their hearts are
very open. O sir, I have very much hope!" After supper, the villagers
poured into the room for a meeting, to the number of one hundred, while
some thirty or forty more were unable to get in. This was all the more
welcome, as no notice whatever had been given. It was a clear moonlight
evening, and the groups outside were distinctly visible, through the
latticed side of the room. John commenced with an earnest prayer for a
blessing on the evening; asking, in his simplicity, that "the people
might run after the word like sheep after salt"--a strange expression
to us, but most appropriate and striking there. Fixed attention was
given to Mr. Stocking's discourse: then John, who feared that those
around the door had not been fed, spoke to them of Zaccheus. "The crowd
about him," said he, "did not know his feelings; but Jesus knew them,
and loved him; and so, mothers and sisters"--they, as an inferior
class, had to take the lowest places while the men were within--"if you
have come here to-night with a broken heart, though we have not seen
you, Jesus has." He then, with Miss Fiske's pupils, sung a hymn, and
the meeting closed. Still, many women lingered; some sitting down by
Miss Fiske, and others in little groups, talking over what they had
heard; very different from previous visits, when dress and such things
were the most interesting themes of conversation. This was the first
meeting in the village in which the missionaries noticed much religious
interest.
Early in the morning, Miss Fiske's pupils were gathered together for a
Bible class. The women soon filled the room. The exercise continued all
the forenoon, simply because it could not be closed. It was impossible
to send away unfed those who hungered for the word. Among the women
were a few men, one of them the husband of the inquirer. He was asked,
"Have you and your wife chosen the good part?" He covered his face for
a moment; the tears rolled down his cheeks; and then he said, "By the
grace of God, I hope we have." His heart was too full to say more.
Soon after noon, Mr. Stocking preached in the church, on the barren fig
tree, to a crowded assembly. The heat and the multitude made the place
very uncomfortable, but the interest deepened till the close. As soon
as they were out of the church, many women crowded around Miss Fiske,
some of whom she could look on as truly pious, and more as thoughtful.
One, who was the first to be awakened about a year before, seemed now a
growing Christian. On leaving, she said, "Perhaps I shall not see you
again till I meet you in heaven." She seemed to be looking forward with
humble hope to a sinless home. With others, she had encountered much
opposition from her family and friends. She has since entered into rest.
On the 19th, Selby visited Miss Fiske, and in answer to a question
about a place for private devotion, "O, yes," said she, "there is a
deep hole under our house, like a cellar, and there I go every day to
pray."
A brief account of her may not here be out of place. In 1830, when she
was an infant in her mother's arms, the cholera in five days carried
her father and five of his household to the grave. In 1838, she was one
of the first pupils of Mrs. Grant. She learned more rapidly than the
rest, and yet was so amiable that she was loved by those whom she
excelled. Still, she was a stranger to God, and she felt it. When
thirteen years of age, her brother took her out of school, replying to
her earnest pleadings, to be allowed to remain, "You have been there
already too long." At the same time she was forced to marry a boy
twelve years of age, with whom she had never spoken. For days
previously, tears were her meat and drink; nor was she the only one
that wept. After this, the missionaries seldom saw her, till, one cold
Sabbath in the winter of 1844-45, a girl entered the chapel, wrapped,
as brides usually are, in a large, white sheet. She was not recognized,
of course, till her mother led her forward, saying, "I have brought
Selby here to-day to listen to the words of God; she loves them and you
very much." She was feeble and much depressed, and expressed a strong
desire to return to school. Her father-in-law consented to her teaching
in the primary department, on condition that her husband was received
into the Boys' Seminary, which was done. She now manifested much
interest in religion, and one day wept much, and inclined to be alone.
The next evening, she went to Miss Fiske, distressed with a sense of
sin. Said she, "I have lied, and stolen, and sworn; nor that only, but
have lived so long without once loving my kind, heavenly Father! When I
felt sadly about dying at home, I thought then only of hell; but now my
sins--O, how many they are! I never knew before that I was such a
sinner." The next day, at her father-in-law's request, she was to spend
the Sabbath at home. She was very loath to go, but it was not thought
best to try to retain her, and she went. There she found neither closet
nor Christian friend, and the house was full of guests from morning
till night, whom, she was required to entertain. Yet in the morning she
returned with even increased interest in spiritual things. Said she,
"Two or three times I was left alone for a moment, and then I tried to
commit my soul to my Saviour." Those few moments she seemed to value
above all price. Not long after, she found peace in Jesus, who became
her chosen theme. No wonder she loved to point others also to the Lamb
of God, and lead them to the mercy seat.