Martyn was much dejected, in contemplating the vast multitude of
idolaters amongst whom he was now placed.
“Every thing presented the appearance of wretchedness. I thought of
my future labours among them with some despondency; yet I am willing,
I trust, through grace, to pass my days among them, if by any means
these poor people may be brought to God. The sight of men, women, and
children, all idolaters, makes me shudder, as if in the dominions of
the prince of darkness. I fancy the frown of God is visible;—there is
something peculiarly awful in the stillness that prevails. Whether it
is the relaxing influence of the climate, or what, I do not know; but
there is every thing here to depress the spirits—all nature droops.”
Whilst he almost despaired of the possibility of ever accomplishing
any good himself, he rejoiced in the promises and prophecies which
make it sure, that at some day, the true God shall be worshipped
there, and in every other place; and the gospel of Jesus Christ be
proclaimed to ‘every nation under heaven.’ He was animated by the
thought, that even should he never see a native converted, yet it
might be God’s design to encourage future missionaries, by giving
them his example of patience and continuance in the work. He took up
his residence at Aldeen, near Calcutta, in the house of an English
clergyman; where, after recovering from a dangerous attack of fever,
he experienced great enjoyment in the company of several Christians,
missionaries and others, established in the neighbourhood. Strong
persuasions were used to induce him to remain in Calcutta, but that
city was supplied in some measure with the gospel, and it was his
intention to devote himself to more remote heathens. The celebrated
Dr. Buchanan had left Calcutta on a journey to Syria, at the very
time of Martyn’s arrival, and too soon to know that God had thus
answered the prayers which he and his brethren had been for some time
addressing to heaven, for the sending of more missionaries to India.
On the fifteenth of October, Mr. Martyn left Aldeen and Calcutta
for Dinapore, a town on the Ganges, more than three hundred miles
distant. He went in a boat called a budgerow, with a cabin fitted for
travelling; which, as it is moved principally by towing with poles,
does not go farther than about twenty miles in a day, stopping in
the evening. He employed his time in studying the eastern languages,
in which he was assisted by a native teacher, called a moonshee,
who accompanied him. He several times witnessed the idolatrous
ceremonies of the people, and made some attempts to convince them of
the sinfulness and folly of the devotion they paid to idols of their
own carving, and to the river Ganges itself. At several villages
on the route he attempted to speak to the people, and distributed
tracts. Some parts of his own narrative of this tour, will show how
he employed himself, and how he was upheld in his purpose amidst all
discouragements.
“_Oct. 19th._—Sunday. The first solitary Sabbath spent among the
heathen: but my soul not forsaken of God. The prayers of my dear
friends were instant for me this day, I well perceive: and a great
part of my prayer was occupied in delightful intercession for them.
The account of the fall of man, in the third chapter of Genesis, and
of his restoration by Christ, was unspeakably affecting to my soul.
Indeed, every thing I read seemed to be carried home to my soul with
ineffable sweetness and power by the Spirit; and all that was within
me blessed His holy name. In the afternoon, sent to the moonshee,
that he might hear the gospel read, or read it himself. Began St.
Mark;—but our conversation turning from Christianity to Mohammedism,
became deadening to my spirit. Our course to-day was along the
eastern bank, which seems to have been lately the bed of the river,
and is bare of trees for a considerable distance from the water.
The western bank is covered with wood. In my evening walk saw three
skeletons.”
“_Oct. 20th._—Employed all the day in translating the first chapter
of the Acts into Hindoostanee. I did it with some care, and wrote
it all out in the Persian character; yet still I am surprised I do
so little. I walked into the village where the boat stopped for the
night, and found the worshippers of Cali by the sound of their drums
and cymbals. I did not think of speaking to them, on account of their
being Bengalees. But, being invited by the Brahmins[3] to walk in,
I entered within the railing, and asked a few questions about the
idol. The Brahmin, who spoke bad Hindoostanee, disputed with great
heat, and his tongue ran faster than I could follow; and the people,
who were about one hundred, shouted applause. But I continued to
ask my questions, without making any remarks upon the answers. I
asked, among other things, whether what I had heard of Vishnu and
Brahma was true; which he confessed. I forbore to press him with
the consequences, which he seemed to feel; and then I told him what
was my belief.—The man grew quite mild, and said it was _chula bat_
(good words;) and asked me seriously, at last, what I thought—‘was
idol worship true or false?’ I felt it a matter of thankfulness that
I could make known the truth of God, though but a stammerer; and
that I had declared it in the presence of the devil. And this also
I learnt, that the power of gentleness is irresistible. I never was
more astonished than at the change in deportment of this hot-headed
Brahmin.”
“_Oct. 21._—Afternoon, with my moonshee, correcting Acts i., and felt
a little discouraged at finding I still wrote so incorrectly, though
much pleased at this great apparent desire of having it perfectly
accurate. Though not joyful in my spirit, as when my friends left
me, I feel my God to be an all-satisfying portion, and find no want
of friends. Read Genesis and Luke;—at night in the Septuagint and
Hindoostanee.”
“_Oct. 22._—A Brahmin of my own age was performing his devotions to
the Ganges early this morning, when I was going to prayer. My soul
was struck with the sovereignty of God, who, out of pure grace,
had made such a difference in all the external circumstances of
our lives. O let not that man’s earnestness rise up in judgment
against me at the last day!—In the afternoon, they were performing
the ceremony of throwing the images of Cali, collected from several
villages, into the river. In addition to the usual music, there were
trumpets. The objects of worship, which were figures most gorgeously
bedecked with tinsel, were kept under a little awning in their
respective boats. As the budgerow passed through the boats, they
turned, so as to present the front of their goddess to me; and at the
same time, blew a blast with their trumpet, evidently intending to
gratify me with a sight of what appeared to them so fine. Had their
employment been less impious, I should have returned the compliment
by looking; but I turned away.”
“Came-to on the eastern bank, below a village called Ahgadeep.
Wherever I walked, the women fled at the sight of me. Some men were
sitting under the shed dedicated to their goddess; and a lamp was
burning in her place. A conversation soon began; but there was no one
who could speak Hindoostanee; so all I could say was by the medium
of my mussulman interpreter. They said that they only did as others
did; and that, if they were wrong, then all Bengal was wrong. I felt
love for their souls, and longed for utterance to declare unto these
poor simple people, the holy gospel. I think that when my mouth is
opened, I shall preach to them day and night. I feel that they are my
brethren in the flesh;—precisely on a level with myself.”
“_Oct. 25th._—Had a very solemn season of prayer, by the favour of
God, over some of the chapters of Genesis; but especially at the
conclusion of the 119th Psalm. O that these holy resolutions and
pious breathings were entirely my own! Adored be the never-failing
mercy of God! He has made my happiness to depend, not on the
uncertain connexions of this life, but upon his own most blessed
self,—a portion that never faileth.—Came-to on the eastern bank. The
opposite side was very romantic;—adorned with a stately range of very
high forest trees, whose deep dark shade seemed impenetrable to the
light.—In my evening walk enjoyed great solemnity of feeling, in the
view of the world as a mere wilderness, through which the children of
God are passing to a better country. It was a comforting and a solemn
thought, and was unspeakably interesting to me at the time, that God
knew whereabouts his people were in the wilderness, and was supplying
them with just what they wanted.”
“_Oct. 26th._—Sunday. Passed this Lord’s day with great comfort,
and much solemnity of soul. Glory to God for his grace! Reading the
scriptures and prayer took up the first part of the day. Almost every
chapter I read was blest to my soul; particularly the last chapter of
Isaiah: ‘It shall come, that I will gather all nations and tongues;
and they shall come, and see my glory,’ &c. Rejoice, my soul, in the
sure promises of Jehovah. How happy am I, when, in preparing for the
work of declaring his glory among the Gentiles, I think, that many
of the Lord’s saints have been this day remembering their unworthy
friend. I felt as if I could never be tired with prayer. In the
afternoon, read one of Gilbert’s French Sermons; Bates on Death; and
some of the Nagree Gospels. In the evening, we came-to on the eastern
bank. I walked into a neighbouring village, with some tracts. The
children ran away in great terror; and though there were some men
here and there, I found no opportunity or encouragement to try if
there were any that could speak Hindoostanee: however, I felt vexed
with myself for not taking more pains to do them good. Alas! while
Satan is destroying their souls, does it become the servants of God
to be lukewarm?”
“_Oct. 27th._—Arrived at Berhampore. In the evening, walked out to
see the cantonments at the hospital, in which there were one hundred
and fifty European soldiers sick. I was talking to a man, said to
be dying, when a surgeon entered. I went up, and made some apology
for entering the hospital. It was my old school-fellow and townsman,
——. The remainder of the evening he spent with me in my budgerow.
He pressed me much to stay longer with him, which I refused; but
afterwards, on reflection, I thought it my duty to stay a little
longer; thinking I might have an opportunity of preaching to the
soldiers.”
“_Oct. 28th._—Rose very early, and was at the hospital at day-light.
Waited there a long time, wandering up and down the wards, in hopes
of inducing the men to get up and assemble; but it was in vain. 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. I could force my way any where, in order to introduce a
brother minister: but for myself, I act with hesitation and pain. Mr.
—— promised to ask the head surgeon’s permission for me to preach,
and appointed the hour at which I should come. I went there: but
after waiting two hours, was told that the surgeon was gone without
being spoken to,—and many other excuses were made. So, as it was
now the heat of the day, I saw it was of no use to make any more
attempts; and therefore I went on my way.”
“_Nov. 2._—Sunday. My mind was greatly oppressed, that I had done,
and was doing nothing in the way of distributing tracts. To free my
conscience from the charge of unprofitableness and neglect, I wished
to go ashore in the middle of the day, wherever I thought I might
meet people; but did not land till we came-to, on the banks of the
Ganges, which we entered just before sunset. Walking on shore, I met
with a very large party; and entering into conversation, I asked if
any of them could read. One young man, who seemed superior in rank to
the rest, said he could, and accordingly read some of the only Nagree
tract that I had. I then addressed myself boldly to them, and told
them of the gospel. When speaking of the inefficacy of the religious
practices of the Hindoos, I mentioned as an example, the repetition
of the name of Ram. The young man assented to this; and said ‘of what
use is it!’ As he seemed to be of a pensive turn, and said this with
marks of disgust, I gave him a Nagree Testament;—the first I have
given. May God’s blessing go along with it, and cause the eyes of
multitudes to be opened! The men said they should be glad to receive
tracts; so I sent them back a considerable number by the young man.
The idea of printing the Parables, in proper order, with a short
explanation subjoined to each, for the purpose of distribution, and
as school-books, suggested itself to me to-night, and delighted me
prodigiously.”
“_Nov. 8th._—Early this morning reached Rajemahl, and walked to
view the remains of its ancient splendour. Gave a tract or two to a
Brahmin; but the Dak moonshee, a Mussulman, when he received one of
the Hindoostanee tracts, and found what it was, was greatly alarmed:
and after many awkward apologies, returned it, saying that ‘a man
who had his legs in two different boats, was in danger of sinking
between them.’ Went on, much discouraged at the suspicion and rebuffs
I met with, or rather _pained_; for I feel not the less determined
to use every effort to give the people the gospel. Oh! that the Lord
would pour out upon them a spirit of deep concern for their souls!
In a walk, at Rajemahl, met some of the hill people. Wrote down from
their mouth some of the names of things. From their appearance, they
seemed connected with the Hottentots and Chinese. Passed the day in
correcting Acts, chapter iii. with the moonshee. At night walked
with Mr. G—, into a village, where we met with some more of the hill
people. With one of them, who was a manghee, or chief of one of the
hills, I had some conversation in Hindoostanee; and told him that
wicked men, after death, go to a place of fire; and good men, above,
to God. The former struck him exceedingly. He asked again, ‘What? do
they go to a place of great pain and fire?’ These people, he said,
sacrifice oxen, goats, pigeons, &c. I asked him if he knew what
this was for, and then explained the design of sacrifices; and told
him of the great sacrifice, but he did not seem to understand me,
and appeared pensive, after hearing that wicked men go to hell. He
asked us, with great kindness, to have some of his wild honey; which
was the only thing he had to offer. How surprising is the universal
prevalence of sacrifices! This circumstance will, perhaps, be made
use of for the universal conversion of the nations. How desirable
that some missionary should go among these people!—No prejudices—none
of the detestable pride and self-righteousness of their neighbours in
the plains.”
“_Nov. 9th._—Passed the Sabbath rather uncomfortably. With Mr. ——,
I read several portions of the sacred scriptures, and prayed in the
afternoon. We reached Sicily gully, a point where the Rajemahl hills
jut out into the Ganges. It was a romantic spot. We went ashore, and
ascended an eminence to look at the ruins of a mosque. The grave,
and room over it, of a Mussulman warrior, killed in battle, were in
perfect preservation; and lamps are still lighted there every night.
We saw a few more of the hill people; one of whom had a bow and
arrows; they were in a hurry to be gone; and went off, men, women,
and children, into their native woods. As I was entering the boat, I
happened to touch with my stick the brass pot of one of the Hindoos,
in which rice was boiling. So defiled are we in their sight, that
they thought the pollution passed from my hand, through the stick and
the brass, to the meat. He rose and threw it all away.”
“_Nov. 13th._—This morning we passed Colgong. I went ashore and had
a long conversation with two men. As I approached more and more to
religion, they were the more astonished; and when I mentioned the day
of judgment, they looked at each other in the utmost wonder, with a
look that expressed, ‘how should he know any thing about that?’ I
felt some satisfaction in finding myself pretty well understood in
what I said: but they could not read: and no people came near us,
and so I had the grief of leaving this place without supplying it
with one ray of light. Looking around this country, and reflecting
upon its state, is enough to overwhelm the mind of a minister or
missionary. When once my mouth is opened, how shall I ever dare to be
silent? Employed as yesterday. At night met some boatmen on the bank,
and a Fakir with them: I talked a good deal, and some things they
understood. The Fakir’s words I could scarcely understand. As he
said he could read, and promised to read a Testament, I gave him one,
and several tracts.”
“_Nov. 17th._—Early this morning they set me ashore to see a hot
spring. A great number of Brahmins and Fakirs[4] were there. Not
being able to understand them, I gave away tracts. Many followed me
to the budgerow, where I gave away more tracts and some Testaments.
Arrived at Monghir about noon. In the evening some came to me for
books; and, among them, those who had travelled from the spring,
having heard the report that I was giving away copies of the
Ramayuna.[5] They would not believe me when I told them that it was
not the Ramayuna; I gave them six or eight more. In the morning tried
to translate, with the moonshee, one of the Nagree papers.”
“_Nov. 18th._—A man followed the budgerow along the walls of the
fort; and finding an opportunity, got on board with another,
begging for a book—not believing but that it was the Ramayuna. As
I hesitated, having given as many as I could spare for one place,
he prostrated himself to the earth, and placed his forehead in the
dust; at which I felt an indescribable horror. I gave them each a
testament. Employed in writing out the parables, and translating. In
the evening met with two villagers, and finding they could read, I
brought them to the boat, and gave them each a Testament, and some
tracts.”
“_Nov. 19th._—Employed in translating the parables, all the day.
Finished reading the first book of the Ramayuna. Came-to at a desert
place on the north side; where, in my walk, I met with a man with
whom I conversed; but we could understand each other but very
little. To a boy with him, who could read, I gave some tracts. Felt
extraordinarily wearied with my labour these two or three last days;
and should have been glad of some refreshing conversation.”
FOOTNOTES:
[3] Hindoo priests.
[4] Men, professing to be religious, who live upon charity.
[5] A poem called sacred by the Hindoos.