“Great source of love, Thy grace impart;
Let love divine inflame my heart;
That I may love supremely Thee,
Who has such great love shown to me.”
On 24th December, 1801, Krishnu, the first convert, was publicly baptized in the river Ganges. Carey’s eldest son, Felix, at the same time was baptized also, though only fifteen years of age.
“The chain of caste is broken forever,” exclaimed Carey to Ward. “At last the success has begun.”
In this same year—1801—the New Testament was published in Bengalee. A public meeting was held to celebrate this remarkable achievement. From that time the success of the mission wonderfully increased. The first Lord’s day in the following year the first convert of the writer caste was baptized, and during the same year the first native Christian wedding in India took place.
“OUR HEARTS ARE NAILED TO CHRIST,” Said one of the converts, as the infant church celebrated the dying of the Lord. Nailed to Christ they certainly were, and to each other in holy love.
“Joy! joy! The Government have forbidden children to be thrown into the Ganges,” said William Carey. “Would that they would also forbid women being burned upon the funereal pyres of their deceased husbands!”
In 1804 Carey was appointed teacher of Bengalee in the College that was provided for the instruction of the East India Company’s servants. At first he received £600 per year for his services; after a while he was appointed Professor of Bengalee, Sanscrit, and Mahratta, at a stipend of £1,500 per year. This he put into the common fund, reserving only £40 per year to pay for his clothes and necessary expenses. The boarding schools conducted by the Marshmans now realized £1,000 per year; out of this they reserved £34 alone for their own use, the balance being devoted to the purposes of the mission—instances of self-sacrifice unsurpassed in all ages. The like disinterestedness was exhibited by Ward, Meanwhile, Carey pursued his labors.
“How do we spend our time?” answered Ward one day. “I will tell you, my dear sir: About six o’clock in the morning we rise. Carey goes to his garden, and Marshman to his school. I go to my printing office. At eight o’clock the bell rings for family worship in the great hall; then we have breakfast. Then Carey translates or corrects proofs of translations; Marshman goes to his school, and I to the printing office. At twelve we take a little refreshment, then bathe or shave or read a little until three o’clock, when we have dinner. Then we talk over a text for a little time, or discuss any religious question upon which it is needful that we should act together. Then we read Bengalee, and de what business turns up. We are generally well occupied until teatime, which is at seven o’clock. Then we have preaching, or conversation with enquirers who come to us to ask questions, or desire us to arrange quarrels.”
“A pretty full day truly! Not many Europeans could show so full a day in India. But what a splendid fellow your Carey is!” continued the visitor, who was a military officer.
“Yes, that he is,” replied Ward, warmly. “Mainly owing to his earnest efforts and wonderful talents, ten versions of the Scriptures have been published; indeed, nothing seems to escape his mind. He has just invented a method by which paper is rendered proof against the white ants. Do you know, I have seen the first sheets of a book destroyed while the last pages were in the press, that is, of course, native paper.”
“And can you prevent that?”
“Yes, oh yes. Have you seen our steam-engine, the first as yet in India?”
“No; I have heard about it. It is a wonderful invention this of steam!”
“So the natives think. But Carey’s chief pleasure is in botany. It is perfectly wonderful the knowledge that he has picked up at odd times about the birds and flowers of India. He devotes to such pursuits the time that other men give to sleep or pleasure. He has introduced the potato and cabbage among the people.”
“I shuddered for him when, in delivering his public speech before the Governor General, he dared to avow himself a missionary,” said the soldier. “It was indeed a bold step, and I feared that he would lose his position. In the first speech ever made in Sanscrit by a European, he congratulated the Governor General that he had opened to the natives of India a door which can never be closed. The Governor was not in the least offended at his boldness.”
“He will not pluck a flower; he is so fond of them,” said Ward. “He has trained his gardeners so that they know the botanical name of every specimen. He was sick, some time since, and very much depressed. ‘What is the matter, brother Carey?’ said I. ‘Oh, nothing! ‘ said he; ‘ that is, it is not important.’ ‘Are you worrying about the college?’ ‘No.’ ‘Are you troubled about your family?’ ‘No.’ ‘What is vexing you?’ Do tell me, Carey?’ After a moment of silence, he said, ‘ I was thinking that after I die you won’t trouble what becomes of the garden, and brother Marshman will let the cows get in.’ I promised him that the cows should not be allowed to spoil his garden, and he seemed comforted.”
“What a dreadful thing, Mr. Ward, it is that the Government permits women to be burned to death. The other day I was passing through a village, and there was a huge pile erected, upon which lay a dead body, attired in rich clothes. Presently a woman came out of a house, also dressed in her best. She staggered as she walked along, but a priest upheld her. She mounted the pile, and took her husband’s head upon her knee. Then two priests took two long sticks and held them upon her to prevent her rising. They set a light to the pile, and the men around began beating drums to prevent the poor creature’s cries from being heard. Yet I heard them, and distinctly saw her trying to get off the burning wood. Oh, that woman’s cries have been ringing in my ears ever since!”
“There was some intention of dealing with it—Suttee, as they call it—but the then Governor was called home, and it will not, I fear, be abolished just yet.”
“Pray God it may be speedily.”
“But what brings you here?” asked Mr. Ward. “I rejoice to have met you so often, Mr. Havelock; but tell me truly why do you come?”
“Well, if the truth must be confessed,” said the officer, “I am in love with Dr. Marshman’s daughter.”
“Good. She is as gracious as she is fair. I hope your suit prospers,” replied Mr. Ward, “Yes,” laughed the future hero of the mutiny. “Oh, yes. I spoke to the doctor this morning, and he is quite agreeable. I spoke to the lady yesterday.”
“Then we shall have a wedding in our mission family soon,” said Mr. Ward. “Well, you might have gone to a worse place for a wife, and could not well have gone to a better. I love the maiden like my own daughter. May you be happy, Mr. Havelock.”