ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND _IMMORTELLES_. 1885
At this period a strong friendship was formed between Mr. Lewis and Miss
Thomas which made for joy and strength in both their lives. It could
hardly have been otherwise. They were kindred spirits and were much
thrown together in experiences which taxed and tested the best that was
in them; and each was conscious that the other had endured the testing
well. Labour, sickness, peril had proved them, under intimate mutual
observation, to be tireless in service, patient in pain, and endowed
with high courage. Compelled by the exigencies of their lot, they had in
turn nursed each other through long days and nights of heavy sickness,
when the angel of death seemed to hover at the door in indecision. They
had passed through scenes of panic without display of fear. In tedious
hours of convalescence they had exchanged confidences; the woman had
spoken of her dear transfigured sorrow, and the man had spoken of those
tender hopes which, in the winter of desolation, made music of spring
within his heart. So they became as brother and sister, and enjoyed high
friendship, serene and unperplexed by such sentiment as the order of
their lives disallowed. That this is all true is amply proved by the
joyous, sisterly interest which Miss Thomas took in the anticipations of
Mr. Lewis’s marriage, by her part in the celebration of the event, and by
her unfeigned sorrow in the pathetic sequel; all which things her letters
most artlessly record.
But in addition to her high spirits, sober saintliness, and heroic
courage, Miss Thomas was endowed with a full share of common sense. She
was woman of the world enough to be aware that a young wife might not
regard with perfect complacency such close comradeship as she and Mr.
Lewis had enjoyed, and wisely prepared herself for some diminution of
friendly intercourse, with ensuing access of loneliness. Happily this
forecast of worldly wisdom was proved to be superfluous. Of course Miss
Phillips had heard all about the friendship, and when she came, in the
trustfulness of perfect love which casteth out fear, she straightway took
Miss Thomas to her heart, claimed her as a sister, and enriched her life
with that mystic gold which is incorruptible, getting back as much again
in sweet commerce which flourished more and more through all the hurrying
days of their brief friendship, even until its latest hour. This also
Miss Thomas has movingly set down, as will presently appear.
It must be confessed that this chapter is concerned with other matters
than a wedding and a funeral, but at this stage these two events have
assumed a certain dominant interest in my mind, as the title indicates,
and herein I expect to secure the sympathy of the reader.
The events recorded in the previous chapter had left the future of the
English Mission at the Cameroons in grave uncertainty. Meanwhile the
Baptist Missionary Society made representations to the German Government,
protesting against the arbitrary and unjust behaviour of its agents,
and demanding compensation for the destruction of its property; which
compensation was never received. Pending unknown providential issues the
work was continued as far as possible on the old lines. In January, 1885,
Mr. Silvey returned to England, and Mr. Lewis and Miss Thomas were left
alone in charge of the Mission at Bethel Station. Mr. Silvey was sorely
missed, especially in the educational work. He had proved, as Miss Thomas
testifies, “a capital schoolmaster,” and his departure necessitated new
arrangements which added to her burdens. She took charge of his school,
besides her own three classes. John Diboll, one of the native teachers,
managed the Lower School, and Alfred Bell, the Infants. Miss Thomas
ascribes her slow progress in Dualla to the fact that all her teaching
was done in English. This pleased the people well, who were eager to
obtain efficiency in the use of our tongue, and had complained that Miss
Saker taught in Dualla. Miss Thomas wishes that she were able to incur
the same criticism.
In a letter to Mrs. Hartland, which Mr. Silvey carried with him and
posted in England, Miss Thomas writes: “It seems ages since I left
England. I feel as though I had been in Africa all my life; and it is not
so strange as I anticipated. I suppose and hope that our next excitement
will be the arrival of Miss Phillips. I hear that Mrs. Lyall is coming
with her, to see her husband’s grave, and then is going to labour as a
missionary [at Calabar].”
The hoped-for excitement was long delayed. At the end of March Miss
Thomas wrote again to Mrs. Hartland: “Mr. Lewis tells me to send his love
to you, we often talk about you and about dear John, and he tells me all
about his ‘intended.’ Poor man, he will be disappointed this mail again,
for we hear she is not coming out until the next. It really is too bad as
there have been plenty of opportunities lately. He says I cheer him up.
I do my best, and he is not low-spirited at all. But it is very trying
for him, and for her too. We have just had a visit from Mr. and Mrs. Hay.
They came quite unexpectedly on their way back from Calabar, and stayed
from Friday till Tuesday. They were both fairly well.... I am wondering
whom you will get for pastor. How strange it must seem without dear Mr.
Tucker! Give him my love if you ever see him.”
Late in April Miss Thomas records that she has been suffering from
bilious fevers, and her friends must not be surprised by news of her
return. Change is recommended, but she feels, in the circumstances of the
Mission, it would be absurd to incur the expense of a trip south. The
coming of the wet season, however, has brought hope of better health.
Mr. Lewis has also suffered much from fever, but has patched himself up
by going out in his boat. They are growing weary of awaiting the arrival
of Miss Phillips and Mr. Fuller. If she does not come soon, it will
scarcely be worth while for her to come at all, as Mr. Lewis’s return
cannot be long postponed. Meanwhile they are both reasonably well, but
the school work has suffered damage through their illness. Some Victoria
people, arriving from the Congo, have brought the heavy news that three
more missionaries have succumbed, and Miss Thomas wonders whether these
casualties are due to the deadliness of the climate or to want of due
care on the part of the victims. The letter continues:—
“The Sunday before last we had a baptism of nine converts here. I was so
sorry to be in bed and unable to be present at the service. The work is
very promising, I think, especially considering the many drawbacks it has
had to contend with. Whatever society comes here after us will have a
fine field to work in. Sometimes I can’t help wondering if it would not
have been better to develope the work from here, with a good base station
ready established, and native teachers to hand, than to begin the new
work on the Congo. But, however, that is done, and I suppose the days of
this Mission are numbered, as far as we are concerned.”
On May 13th Mr. Lewis wrote to Mrs. Hartland, at the request of Miss
Thomas, to explain her own silence. She is recovering from another severe
attack of bilious fever. When she fell ill Mr. Lewis was himself in bed;
but the next day he was able to attend her. She is better, but not well
enough to write. He proceeds: “We are now looking forward to the arrival
of Mr. and Mrs. Fuller, and I venture to hope that Miss Phillips will
accompany them. We have had no definite news.
“You will have heard of the death of Mrs. Buckenham of Fernando Po. Mr.
Buckenham brought her here on board the _Volta_ three weeks ago, hoping
she would get better. She could not come ashore, and died on the ship.
Her remains are now lying in our graveyard, where she was buried the
next day. Poor Mr. Buckenham has gone home in the _Benguela_. Things
here are much as usual. The Germans are fairly quiet; but the natives
are profoundly unsettled, and we do not know what they will do. A large
number of them are in the bush; the rainy season is coming on, and they
will be homeless. This is hard.
“We heard from Victoria yesterday, and the friends there are well. It
is very evident that the Committee intend to relinquish this Mission.
It is a great pity, and yet I believe it to be the best course. I have
heard that the authorities are going to compel the teaching of German in
our schools. I confess I would rather leave at once than Germanise these
people. However, we trust that all will be for the best in the end.”
The year wore on with its round of duties varied by intervals of
suffering—school-work, nursing, fevers—and the long-looked-for arrival
of Miss Phillips was still in anticipation. At the end of August,
however, it was known at Cameroons that she had sailed in the _Lualaba_,
accompanied, not by Mr. and Mrs. Fuller, but by Mr. Comber, and a band
of young missionaries, including his own brother Percy, whom he was
joyously convoying to the Congo. And here I must interrupt the story
for a moment to introduce the following significant little letter. It
was addressed by Miss Thomas to her three nieces, the daughters of her
sister, Mrs. Percival.
“BETHEL STATION, CAMEROONS.
“_August 29, 1885._
“MY DEAR ETHEL, EVA AND BEATRICE,—I have written to Ethel
already, but when I received your mother’s letter, with the
good news it contained, I felt I must write to you, if only
a few lines, to tell you how very glad I am to hear that all
three of you have learnt to love the dear Saviour, and have
come forward to confess His Name. Although I am so far from
you, you may be sure I often think of you and pray for you, and
I am so glad that you have chosen the right way thus early, and
that all your lives will be given to His service. I hope that
you will all become very useful Christians, and that each of
you will in time find some direct work to do for the Master.
But after all I feel more and more convinced that it is in the
little things of everyday life we can best show our love to Him.
“That He may bless you all and keep you very near Himself, is
the earnest prayer of
“Your loving aunt,
“GWENNIE.”
“The excitement” which was looked for as imminent in January came in
September. On the 10th news was received in Cameroons that the _Lualaba_
was due at Calabar some few days later. For the rest of this chapter I
leave the narrative to Miss Thomas, who shall tell, in her own words, of
the burst of happy sunshine, and of its sudden dire eclipse, assured that
her artless recital of the happenings, written only for the loving eyes
of friends, with no faintest dream of publication, will be immeasurably
more affecting than any studied treatment of my own.
On September 14th Miss Thomas sat down in the Mission House at Old
Calabar and commenced a letter to Mrs. Hartland, accounting at the outset
for her new address:—
“On Friday morning (this is Tuesday) the _Loanda_ came into Cameroons
with our mails, which included a letter from Mr. Comber telling Mr.
Lewis that he was to meet Miss Phillips here. Their ship would arrive
on Monday, so the only course open to him was to start off by the
_Loanda_. He was worried about leaving me alone, as the time of return
was uncertain, so I decided to accompany him and get a change. The
steamer was timed to start on Saturday, but fortunately waited until
Sunday morning, for we had invited John Pinnock for the wedding, and
arriving on Saturday night he was able to come with us. We started early
on Sunday morning, and as we were all seasick no one of us could laugh at
the others. In the afternoon we reached Fernando Po, and went on shore
to see Mr. and Mrs. Welford, who have taken the Buckenhams’ place there.
The Spanish authorities are most arbitrary. We found that they had put
Mr. Welford in prison, and that poor Mrs. Welford was sick. Of course she
was delighted to see me and I stayed with her while Mr. Lewis and John
obtained permission and went to visit her husband.”
“October 2nd. [Bethel Station, Cameroons.] So much has happened since I
wrote the above, which you will like to hear, that I think I must send
you a kind of diary, which you must please allow my sister, and any other
interested friends, to read, as I cannot write it twice. Well, just after
I had written the piece above we heard the Kroo-boys shouting, and knew
that the _Lualaba_ was coming up the river. [At Old Calabar on September
14th.] We rushed over to the Ludwigs to tell them, then returned, took
a hurried meal, and as a storm was coming on got into thick dresses and
mackintoshes and made haste down to the beach, where the others were
waiting for us. Very soon we were on board the _Lualaba_. Mr. Lewis made
his way to the ladies’ cabin, while I was receiving very warm greetings
from Tom and Percy Comber. Then I was introduced to the others, and was
very pleased to see such a nice band of young men, for they all seem
nice. I do trust they may have good health. Then I went in to see Miss
Phillips, with whom I felt at home immediately. We all went on shore
together, took tea, inspected the Mission premises, and called on Mrs.
Beadie, who was ill. We finished up the evening at Mrs. Ludwig’s. Miss
Phillips stayed with me, and we slept together. Unfortunately I got fever
in the night, which put an end to my going about. The next day we were
to visit Creek Town, but Mrs. Lyall very kindly remained at home to look
after me, and the next day also.
“I was much amused to have all the young missionaries coming in to see
what African fever was like. Of course Percy was as playful as ever, and
wanted to take my temperature about every half-hour. On Friday morning
I was a little better, but still in bed, and the _Redland_, a small
steamer, was timed to start for the Cameroons. So there was a grand
discussion as to what was to be done with me. Mr. Lewis could not remain
away any longer, but we did not like Miss Phillips to go on alone with
him and John Pinnock, knowing what a place this is for talk. I begged
to be allowed to return with them, so Mr. Lewis sent for Mr. Comber,
and left him to decide. At first he would not hear of my going, but
ultimately it was settled that I should do so, as Mrs. Lyall was willing
to go too. So I was carried down to the beach in a hammock, Mr. Comber
coming to see us off. At night a tornado broke upon us and Mrs. Lyall and
I were very seasick. Miss Phillips kept well, and by the time we reached
Cameroons we were all right. I have had no fever since.
“We received a very warm welcome from the people, who were full of
curiosity to see ‘Mrs. Lewis.’ The next day was Sunday, and we rested
quietly. On Monday Mr. Lewis went to make arrangements for the wedding,
which had been fixed for the following day, but found that according
to the German law three days’ notice must be given to all the white
residents, which necessitated the postponement of the event until
Saturday.... On Tuesday we all went to the Governor’s, as we were to be
witnesses of the marriage. The authorities are very particular. Mrs.
Lyall had to declare that she knew Miss Phillips had been sent out by
the Society, and we were minutely questioned as to our names, ages,
birthplaces, professions, and so on.
“On Wednesday we gave all our house children (and ourselves too) a treat
by taking them for a picnic to Didumbari beach.”
There follows an account of the picnic, piquant and diverting enough, but
too long to be inserted here. Thursday was a quiet day, but on Friday
everybody concerned was cumbered with much serving in preparation for the
long-looked-for rejoicing. The narrative continues:—
“We were determined to have as nice and home-like a wedding as
was possible in our circumstances. To avoid work upon _the day_
a cold breakfast was arranged. On Saturday the weather was most
kind. The sun shone brightly, and everything looked beautiful.
The marriage took place at Bethel Chapel at half-past nine.
Miss Phillips, who looked charming in her bridal attire, wore
a cream satin dress, very simply made, and a white hat trimmed
with lace. A long spray of real orange-blossom encircled her
neck, and she carried a bouquet of blue and white flowers
culled from our garden. I wore my embroidered tussore, with the
hat you sent out; and Mrs. Lyall, who acted as mother and gave
her away, a thin black silk, with hat to match. The children
all had new dresses, and each carried a new handkerchief, in
which was tied up as much rice as it would hold. John performed
the ceremony, and all the way home the happy pair were well
pelted with rice. The breakfast was laid in my house, and the
table really looked quite pretty with abundance of flowers,
and the cake, decorated with ferns, which Mrs. Lyall had
brought with her.
“Later in the day we went off in the boat to attend the civil
marriage, and you would have laughed to see the undignified
manner in which the bride and bride’s-maids secured their
places. The tide was far out, and we were handed about from
one man to another as if we were babies in long clothes. We
called for Dr. Allen on our way, as he was to be one of the
witnesses. When we arrived at Government House, we found the
Governor (Baron Von Soden) and his secretary awaiting us in
full uniform. We sat round a table, and when all the recorded
particulars had been read over the bride and bridegroom were
required to answer the question whether they really intended to
contract matrimony by ‘a loud and distinct “yes”.’ Thereupon
the Governor pronounced them to be ‘husbands together,’ which
very nearly upset my gravity. He was translating as he went
along. After the business was over, we were invited into the
piazza, and the Governor brought out champagne to drink their
healths.
“When our boat had started out for the marriage, the German
House hoisted all their flags, an example which all the other
traders followed, so that as we returned the river was gay with
bunting, and all the flags were dipped in salute, before being
taken down. I thought this very nice. Great interest was being
shown in consequence of this being the first marriage of a
white man in the river. The Germans were specially pleased that
it was solemnised by German law. In coming back we had our
single misfortune. One of the Kroo-boys who was carrying Mrs.
Lyall slipped and dropped her into the water. Happily she took
no harm, and only had to change her clothes and iron out her
dress. Dr. Allen came to tea. Later we all went into the big
house, and after supper and a chat Mrs. Lyall and I came back,
leaving the bride in her new home. John Pinnock had to start
for Victoria in the afternoon.
“Mrs. Lewis is so jolly and nice, I wish you had seen her. Mrs.
Lyall returned to Calabar on Monday. She was much pleased with
the Mission here and enjoyed her stay greatly. She said that
prior to coming here she had not had a laugh since she came to
Africa. She had plenty here, for we are a very merry party, I
assure you. Since the wedding, we have settled down. I began
school again on Tuesday. Last week we gave holiday in honour
of the great event. Things are very happy here now, and we are
just like one family. I go into the next house for dinner, and
we always have tea together, taking turns. I am so glad Mrs.
Lewis is so nice, for Mr. Lewis and I are exactly like brother
and sister, and now I seem to have a sister, too. I have been
wonderfully fortunate in having such kind friends, so that
really I never feel lonely.... Two of my girls have gone to
Mrs. Lewis. I have taken two new ones, and another is to come
on Saturday. I really cannot take any more, as that will make
fourteen. I wish I had a bigger house and room for a lot more.
Many are begging to come. I was so glad to hear of you all from
Tom Comber, but so sorry to hear that dear Mr. Tucker has lost
his wife. He will miss her dreadfully. They always seemed so
fond of each other. I think I must finish up now, with heaps of
love to Lily, Alice, Mr. Hartland and yourself, from
“Yours lovingly,
“GWEN.”
Before the honeymoon was over the young bride had passed on to the
Father’s house, with its many mansions, and its prepared place.
On October 27th Miss Thomas wrote again to Mrs. Hartland: “This letter
I mean for my sister as well. I cannot write all I wish to say twice
over. I hardly know how to tell you the news, it is so sad, so sudden,
so unexpected. Dear Mrs. Lewis has gone to a better home than that which
we had prepared for her. She passed away at about 5 p.m. this day week,
Tuesday, 20th. I told you in my last letter how bright and merry she was,
and how pleased with everything. We were so happy all together, just like
one family. Breakfast was the only meal we took separately. I was as a
sister to them in everything, and we were making plans for future work,
so that we might not be separated. But as Grenfell said about dear John,
‘man proposes, but God disposes,’ and His ways are not our ways. Janie
seemed so suitable to be a missionary’s wife, and was just getting into
our African ways, beginning to understand the children in the house,
taking a class in the Sunday School, coming to school once in the week
with me, and helping me with the sewing at home.
“On Saturday, 17th, we went up the river to Jibarri with Mr. Lewis and
Dibundu, who, after examining six candidates, baptized them in the river.
We then sat down to the Lord’s Supper together. I do not think I ever
enjoyed that solemn service more, although it was conducted in Dualla. It
was so simple. There were only twenty-six present, in all; no communion
plate, but just the common things we had with us. It was indeed a happy,
holy time. And that was the last meal we took together.
“When we returned home I went to get tea, and coming back in a few
minutes found Mrs. Lewis in fever. Of course I took her into her own
house at once, and put her to bed in blankets; and from that time, until
she died, she was never left without her husband or me. On Sunday her
temperature fell to 101°, but rose later, and we could not bring it down
again.... Still we were not alarmed, for the first fever is often very
severe, as my own experience had proved. She had a bad night on Monday,
and spoke then about dying, but on Tuesday morning seemed better. About 1
p.m. John Pinnock arrived unexpectedly from Victoria. She was so pleased
to see him, and after talking a little said she thought she could sleep
if we would all leave her, which we did. But very soon she felt the fever
coming on again, and called her husband, and he put her into blankets.
After dinner I went to sit with her, and about half-past three she said:
‘Gwen, I wish you would call Tom.’ I started to do so, but came back and
said: ‘Are you getting low-hearted?’ She said: ‘No, but I don’t think
I shall get over this, do you?’ I told her that I really thought she
might, but would let her know if I came to think otherwise. Whereupon she
said: ‘Very well, I won’t worry Tom by telling him.’ However, I took her
temperature, and finding it to be 106·8°, I called Mr. Lewis, and told
him what she had said. I then went to get her a cup of tea, and left them
together.
“After my return she said: ‘I should have liked to live for your sake,
Tom, and for mother and Katie, but I am not afraid and shall be happier
_there_.’ She also said: ‘You will give Gwen my wedding brooch, won’t
you?’ Soon after she became delirious, but still recognised us, turning
from one to the other, and calling us by name. Just then Dr. Allen came
to the beach, and she fell into a kind of coma, but while I had gone to
meet him she roused again and said a few precious words to her husband.
When we came into the room she was quite unconscious. Everything possible
was done, but all was unavailing, and she passed away at five o’clock.
Dr. Allen, who was very kind and attentive, says he never knew of such a
case before.... She was very anxious that the friends at home should know
that she had been _so_ happy, and never regretted coming to Africa.
“We buried her the next morning, John Pinnock officiating, as he had done
at the wedding three weeks earlier. His coming was providential. I think
he was sent, for there was nothing very special to bring him, and his
presence was a great comfort just then. We put the orange-blossoms in her
coffin, and made a wreath from our garden. Afterwards, one of the German
traders sent a beautiful wreath for the grave. We had a simple service
in the chapel, which began with the singing of “Rock of Ages.” Then John
read parts of 1 Cor. xv., and Rev. vii., and offered prayer. After this
the first class schoolboys carried her to the grave, and we sang, ‘Hear
what the voice from heaven proclaims.’ Then John concluded with prayer,
and we left her to rest beside Mrs. Buckenham.
“It all seems like a dream. Her poor husband! It is terrible for him,
but he bears it so bravely and patiently. I never knew any one else so
patient. I am very thankful to have been here. We have been packing some
of her things to send home. Many of her presents had been scarcely looked
at, and most of her dresses were never worn. I feel so for her friends at
home. This is the second child they have lost abroad, and she was very
anxious about her mother’s health. I know how you will all sympathise
with them and with us here. It has brought back so vividly to me all the
sad time when dear John died.... I had grown so fond of her, and she
was so kind to me. She brought me a beautiful little present, always
called Mr. Lewis my brother; and however much we had been together in the
daytime, they never failed to walk in about eight o’clock, saying, ‘We
have come to say good-night to our sister.’ You will understand what a
blow this has been to me, yet I am thankful to be keeping so well.
“I can’t think what they are going to do about sending some one to
relieve us. Mr. Silvey does not mention returning, and Mr. Fuller says
he sees no hope of it yet. Mr. Lewis will have been out three years in
February, and has written saying he wishes to go home; and although I am
anxious to remain as long as possible, I do not think it would be wise to
stay too long, as I have had so many shocks since I came. Do not be too
anxious about me, dears. I really take every care, and try to do my work
quietly, having quite given up the rushing-about system, and in spite of
everything am happy and content. I know you will pray for us that we may
be strengthened and helped in the work here, and for poor Mr. Lewis that
God may continue to help and comfort him.”