<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
<h3>The Accals</h3>
<div class="blockquot"><p>"This sacred work demands not lukewarm, selfish, slack souls,
but hearts more finely tempered than steel, wills purer and harder
than the diamond."—<span class="smcap">Père Didon.</span></p>
</div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-39.jpg" width-obs="550" height-obs="382" alt="PONNAMAL, WITH PREETHA ON HER KNEE, AND TARA BESIDE HER." title="" /> <span class="caption">PONNAMAL, WITH PREETHA ON HER KNEE, AND TARA BESIDE HER.</span> <br/><br/></div>
<div class='cap'>THE Accals, without whom this work in all its various
branches could not be undertaken, are a band of
Indian sisters (the word Accal means older sister)
who live for the service of the children. First among the
Accals is Ponnamal (Golden). With the quick affection of
the East the children find another word for Gold and call
her doubly Golden Sister.</div>
<p>Sometimes we are asked if we ever find an Indian fellow-worker
whom we can thoroughly trust. The ungenerous
question would make us as indignant as it would if it were
asked about our own relations, were it not that we know
it is asked in ignorance by those who have never had the
opportunity of experiencing, or have missed the happiness
of enjoying, true friendship with the people of this land.
Those who have known that happiness, know the limitless
loyalty and the tender, wonderful love that is lavished on
the one who feels so unworthy of it all. If there is distance
and want of sympathy between those who are called to be
workers together with the great Master, is not something
wrong? Simple, effortless intimacy, that closeness of touch
which is friendship indeed, is surely possible. But rather
we would put it otherwise, and say that without it service<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</SPAN></span>
together, of the only sort we would care to know, is perfectly
impossible.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-40.jpg" width-obs="347" height-obs="500" alt="SELLAMUTTU AND SUSEELA." title="" /> <span class="caption">SELLAMUTTU AND SUSEELA.</span></div>
<p>In our work all along we have had this joy to the full.
God in His goodness gave us from the first those who
responded at once to the confidence we offered them. In
India the ideal of a consecrated life is a life with no reserves—which
seeks for nothing, understands nothing, cares for
nothing but to be poured forth upon the sacrifice and service.
Pierce through the various incrustations which have over-laid
this pure ideal, give no heed to the effect of Western
influence and example, and you come upon this feeling,
however expressed or unexpressed, at the very back of all—the
instinct that recognises and responds to the call to
sacrifice, and does not understand its absence in the lives
of those who profess to follow the Crucified. Who, to whom
this ideal is indeed "The Gleam," that draws and ever draws
the soul to passionate allegiance, can fail to find in the Indian
nature at its truest and finest that kinship of spirit which
knits hearts together? "And it came to pass when he had
made an end of speaking, that the soul of Jonathan was knit
with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own
soul": this tells it all. The spring of heart to heart that we
call affinity, the knitting no hand can ever afterward unravel—these
experiences have been granted to us all through our
work together, and we thank God for it.</p>
<div class="sidenote">Pure Justice</div>
<p>Ponnamal's work lies chiefly among the convert-nurses
and the babies. She has charge of the nurseries and of the
food arrangements, so intricate and difficult to the mere lay
mind; she trains her workers to thoroughness and earnestness,
and by force of example seems to create an atmosphere
of cheerful unselfishness that is very inspiring. How
often we have sent a young convert, tempted to self-centredness
and depression, to Ponnamal, and seen her
return to her ordinary work braced and bright and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</SPAN></span>
sensible. We are all faulty and weak at times, and every
nursery, like every life, has its occasional lapses; but on
the whole it is not too much to say that the nurseries are
happy places, and Ponnamal's influence goes through them
all like a fresh wind. And this in spite of very poor health.
For Ponnamal, who was the leader of our itinerating band,
broke down hopelessly, and thought her use in life had
passed—till the babies came and brought her back to
activity again. And the joy of the Lord, we have often
proved, is strength for body as well as soul.</p>
<p>Sellamuttu, who comes next to Ponnamal, is the "Pearl"
of previous records, and she has been a pearl to us through
all our years together. She is special Accal to the household
of children above the baby-age—a healthy, high-spirited
crow of most diverse dispositions; and she is loved by one
and all with a love which is tempered with great respect,
for she is "all pure justice," as a little girl remarked
feelingly not long ago, after being rather sharply reproved
for exceeding naughtiness: "within my heart wrath burned
like a fire; but my mouth could not open to reply, for inside
me a voice said, 'It is true, entirely true; Accal is perfectly
just.'"</p>
<p>This Accal, however, is most tender in her affections, and
among the babies she has some particular specials. One of
these is the solemn-faced morsel of the photograph, to save
whom she travelled, counting by time, as far as from London
to Moscow and back; and the baby arrived as happy and well
as when the friends at "Moscow" sent her off with prayers
and blessings and kindness. But the photograph was a
shock. "Aiyo!" she said, quite upset to see her delight so
misrepresented, "that is not Suseela! There is no smile,
no pleasure in her face!" We comforted her by the
assurance that any one who understood babies and their
ways would consider the camera responsible for the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</SPAN></span>
expression. And at least the baby was obedient. Had
she not told her to make a salaam, and had not the little
hand gone up in serious salute? A perfectly obedient baby
is Sellamuttu's ideal, and she was satisfied.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-41.jpg" width-obs="550" height-obs="387" alt="TO THE RIGHT, SUHINIE, AND HER BABY SUNUNDA" title="" /> <span class="caption">TO THE RIGHT, SUHINIE, AND HER BABY SUNUNDA</span></div>
<p>Both these sisters came to us at some loss to themselves,
for both could have lived at home at ease if they had been
so inclined. Ponnamal lost all her little fortune by joining
us. She could, perhaps, have recovered it by going to law,
but she did not feel it right to do so, and she suffered
herself to be defrauded. "How could I teach others to be
unworldly if I myself did what to them would appear worldly-minded?"
That was all she ever said by way of explanation.</p>
<p>Next to Ponnamal and Sellamuttu come the motherly-hearted
Gnanamal and Annamai. They came to us when we
were in circumstances of peculiar difficulty. The work was just
beginning, and we had not enough trustworthy helpers; so,
wearied with disturbed nights, we were almost at the end of
our strength. "Send us help!" we prayed, and went on
each trying to do the work of three. It was one hot, tiring
afternoon, when we longed to forget everything and rest for
half an hour, but could not, because there was so much to do,
that a bright, capable face appeared at the door of our room,
and Annamai, Lulla's beloved, came in and said: "God sent me,
and my relative" (naming a mission catechist) "brought me.
And so I have come!"</p>
<p>And Gnanamal—we were in dire straits, for a dear little
babe had suffered at the hands of one who thought first of
herself and second of her charge, and the most careful tending
was needed if the baby was to survive—it was then Gnanamal
came and took charge of the delicate child, and became the
comfort and help she has ever continued to be. When there is
serious illness, and night-nursing is required, Gnanamal is
always ready to volunteer; though to her, as to most of us in
India, night work is not what the flesh would choose. Then<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</SPAN></span>
in the morning, when we go to relieve her, we find her
bright as ever, as if she had slept comfortably all the time.
We think this sort of help worth gratitude.</p>
<div class="sidenote">Whose Names are in the Book of Life</div>
<p>The convert-workers, dear as dear children, but, thank God,
dependable as comrades, come next in age to the head Accals.
Arulai Tara (known to some as "Star") is what her name
suggests, something steadfast, something shining, something
burning with a pure devotion which kindles other fires. We
cannot imagine our children without their beloved Arulai.
Then there is Sundoshie (Joy), to the left next Suhinie in
the photo, a young wife for whom poison was prepared
three times, and whose escape from death at the hand of
husband and mother-in-law was one of those quiet miracles
which God is ever working in this land of cruelty in dark
places. And Suhinie (Gladness), whose story of deliverance
has been told before;<SPAN name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</SPAN> and Esli, the gift of a fellow-missionary,
a most faithful girl; and others younger, but
developing in character and trustworthiness. All these young
converts need much care, but the care of genuine converts is very
fruitful work; and one interesting part of it is the fitting of
each to her niche, or of fitting the niche to her. Discernment
of spirit is needed for this, for misfits means waste energy and
great discomfort; and energy is too good a thing to waste,
and comfort too pleasant a thing to spoil. So those who are
responsible for this part of the work would be grateful
for the remembrance of any who know how much depends
upon it.</p>
<p>Among the recognised "fits" in our family is "the Accal
who loves the unlovable babies." This is Suhinie. We tried
her once with the Taraha children; but the terrible activity of
these young people was altogether too much for the slowly
moving machinery of poor Suhinie's brain, and she was
perfectly overwhelmed and very miserable. For Suhinie<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</SPAN></span>
hates hurry and sudden shocks of any sort, and the babies
of maturer years discovered this immediately; and Suhinie,
waddling forlornly after the babies, looked like a highly
respectable duck in charge of a flock of impertinent robins.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-42.jpg" width-obs="550" height-obs="387" alt="THREE CONVERT WORKERS." title="" /> <span class="caption">THREE CONVERT WORKERS.</span></div>
<p>It was quite a misfit, and Suhinie's worst came to the top,
and we speedily moved her back again to the Prémalia
nursery.</p>
<p>For there you see Suhinie in her true sphere. Give her a
poor, puny babe, who will never, if she can help it, let her Accal
have an undisturbed hour; give her the most impossible, most
troublesome baby in the nursery, and then you will see Suhinie's
best. We discovered this when Ponnamal was in charge of
the Neyoor nursery. Ponnamal had one small infant so cross
that nobody wanted her. She would cry half the night,
a snarly, snappy cry, that would not stop unless she was
rocked, and began again as soon as the rocking was stopped.
Ponnamal gave her to Suhinie.</p>
<p>"Night after night till two in the morning she would sing
to that fractious child"—this was Ponnamal's story to me
when next I went to Neyoor. "She never seemed to tire;
hymn after hymn she would sing, on and on and on. I never
saw her impatient with it; she just loved it from the first."
And a curious thing began to happen: the baby grew like
her Accal. This likeness was not caught in the photograph,
but is nevertheless so observable that visitors have often
asked if the little one were her own child.</p>
<div class="sidenote">Sinners</div>
<p>This baby, Sununda by name, is greatly attached to Suhinie.
As she is over two years old now, she has been promoted to
the Taraha, and being an extremely wilful little person, she
sometimes gets into trouble. One day I was called to
remonstrate, and a little "morning glory" was required, and
I put her in a corner to think about it. Another sinner had
to be dealt with, and when I returned Sununda was nowhere
to be found. I searched all over the Taraha and in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</SPAN></span>
garden, and finally found her in the Prémalia cuddled close
to Suhinie. "She has told me all about it," said Suhinie,
who was nursing another edition of difficult infancy; and she
looked down on the curly head with eyes of brooding affection,
like a tender turtle-dove upon her nestling. Then the
roguish brown eyes smiled up at me with an expression of
perfect confidence that I would understand and sympathise
with the desire to share the troubles of this strange, sad
life with so beloved an Accal.</p>
<p>The question of discipline is sometimes rather difficult
with so many dispositions, each requiring different dealing.
We try, of course, to fit the penalty to the crime, so that
the child's sense of justice will work on our side; and in
this we always find there is a wonderful unconscious co-operation
on the part of the merest baby. But the older
children used to be rather a problem. Some had come to
us after their wills had become developed and their characters
partly formed. Most of them were with us of their
own free will, and could have walked off any day, for
they knew where they would be welcome. Discipline under
these circumstances is not entirely easy. But three years
ago something of Revival Power swept through all our
family. It was not the Great Revival for which we wait,
but it was something most blessed in effect and abiding in
result; and ever since then the tone has been higher and
the life deeper, so that there is something to which we can
appeal confident of a quick response. But children will be
scampish; and once their earnestness of desire to be good
was put to unexpected and somewhat drastic proof.</p>
<p>At that time the mild Esli had charge of the sewing-class,
and the class had got into bad ways; carelessness and
chattering prevailed, so Esli came in despair to me, and I
talked to the erring children. They were sorry, made no
excuses, and promised to be different in future. I left them<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</SPAN></span>
repentant and thoroughly ashamed of themselves, and went
to other duties.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-43.jpg" width-obs="550" height-obs="385" alt="SEWING-CLASS IN THE COURTYARD." title="" /> <span class="caption">SEWING-CLASS IN THE COURTYARD.</span></div>
<div class="sidenote">The Mark</div>
<p>Shortly afterwards Arulai found them in a state of
great depression. They told her they had promised to be
good at the sewing-class, but were afraid they would
forget. Arulai's ideas are usually most original, and she
sympathised with the children, but told them there was no
need for them ever to forget. They asked eagerly what
could be done to help them to remember. They had
prayed, but even so had doubts. Was there anything to
be done besides praying? Arulai said there was, and she
expounded certain verses from the Book of Proverbs.
"Sometimes the best way to make a mark upon the mind
is to make a mark upon the body," she suggested, and
asked the children if they would like this done. The
children hesitated. They were aware that Arulai's "marks"
were likely to be emphatic, for Arulai never does things
by halves. But their devotion to her and belief in her
overcame all fears; and being genuinely anxious to reform,
they one and all consented. So she sent a small girl off
to look for a cane; and presently one was produced, "thin
and nice and suitable," as I was afterwards informed. The
younger children were invited to take the cane and look
at it, and consider well how it would feel. This they did
obediently, but still stuck undauntedly to their determination,
in fact, were keen to go through with it. Then Arulai
explained that when the King said, "Chasten thy son while
there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying,"
he must have been thinking of a very little boy who had
not the sense to know what was good for him. They had
sense. The mark on the body would be waste punishment
if it were not received willingly and gratefully; so if any
child cried or pulled her hand away, she would stop. Then
the children all stood up and held out their hands—what a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</SPAN></span>
moment for a photograph! Arulai's "mark upon the body"
was a genuine affair, but the class received it with fortitude
and gratitude.</p>
<p>When I heard this history, an hour or so after its
occurrence, I rather demurred. The children had appeared
to be sincerely sorry when I spoke to them, and if so, why
proceed to extremities? But Arulai answered with wisdom
and much assurance: "They have been talked to before
and have been sorry, but they forgot and did it again.
This time they will not forget." And neither did they. As
long as that class continued, its behaviour was exemplary;
and "the mark upon the mind," to judge by their demeanour,
remained as fresh as it must have been on that
memorable day when the "mark" upon the body effected
its creation. The story ought to end here; but most stories
have a sequel, and this has two.</p>
<p>The first occurred a few weeks later. A little girl, one
of the sewing-class, had slipped into the habit of careless
disobedience, followed too often by sulks. If we happened
to come across her just when the thunder-clouds were
gathering, we could usually divert her attention and avert
the threatened trouble; but if we did not happen to meet
her just at the right moment, she would plunge straight into
the most outrageous naughtiness with a sort of purposeful
directness that was difficult to deal with. Knowing the
child well, we often let her choose her own punishments;
and she did this so conscientiously that at last, as she herself
mournfully remarked, "they were all used up," and there
was nothing left but the most ancient—and perhaps in
some cases most efficacious, which, the circumstances being
what they were, I was naturally reluctant to try. But the
child, trained to be perfectly honest with herself, apparently
thought the thing over, and calmly made up her mind to
accept the inevitable; for when, anxious she should not<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</SPAN></span>
misunderstand, I began to explain matters to her, I was
met by this somewhat astonishing response: "Yes, Amma,
I know. I know you have tried everything else" (she said
this almost sympathetically, as if appreciating my dilemma),
"and so you have to do it. I do not like it at all, but
Arulai Accal says it is no use unless I take it willingly,
so Amma, please give me a good caning." (The idiom is
the same in Tamil as in English, but there is a stronger
word which she now proceeded to use with great deliberation.)
"Yes, Amma, a <i>hot</i> caning—with my full mind I
am willing. And I will not cry. Or if I do cry" (this was
added in a serious, reflecting sort of way), "let not your
soul spare for my crying!"</p>
<p>The second is less abnormal. Esli, whose placid soul had
been sadly stirred at the time of the infliction of the "mark,"
was so impressed by its salutary effect that she conceived
a new respect for the methods of King Solomon. The application
of "morning glory" is a privilege reserved, as a rule,
for ourselves; but one day, being doubtless hard pressed,
Esli produced a stick—a very feeble one—and calling up the
leader of all rebels, addressed herself to her. Chellalu, as
might have been expected, was taken by surprise; and for
one short moment Esli was permitted to follow the ways
of the King. But only for a moment: for, suddenly apprehending
the gravity of the situation, and realising that
such precedent should not pass unchallenged, Chellalu, with
a quick wriggle, stood forth free, seized the stick with a
joyous shout, snapped it in two, and flourished round the
room: then stopping before her afflicted Accal, she solemnly
handed her one of the pieces, and with a bound and a
scamper like a triumphant puppy, was off to the very end
of her world with the other half of that stick.</p>
<div class="sidenote">"Not Lukewarm, Selfish, Slack Souls"</div>
<p>When the Elf came to us on March 6, 1901, and we began
to know some of the secrets of the Temple, we tried to save<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</SPAN></span>
several little children, but we failed. The thought of those
first children with whom we came into touch, but for whom
all our efforts were unavailing, is unforgettable. We see
them still, little children—lost. But we partly understand
why we had to wait so long; we had not the workers then to
help us to take care of them. We had only some of the older
Accals, who could not have done it alone. These convert-girls,
who now help us so much, were in Hindu homes; some
of them had not even heard of Christ, whose love alone makes
this work possible. For India is not England in its view of
such work. There is absolutely nothing attractive about it.
It is not "honourable work," like preaching and teaching.
No money would have drawn these workers to us. Work
which has no clear ending, but drifts on into the night if
babies are young or troublesome—such work makes demands
upon devotion and practical unselfishness which appeal to
none but those who are prepared to love with the tireless
love of the mother. "I do not want people who come to
me under certain reservations. In battle you need soldiers
who fear nothing." So wrote the heroic Père Didon; and,
though it may sound presumptuous to do so, we say the
same. We want as comrades those who come to us without
reservations. But such workers have to be prepared, and
such preparation takes time. "Tarry ye the Lord's leisure,"
is a word that unfolds as we go on.</p>
<p>Yet we find that the work, though so demanding, is full
of compensations. The convert in her loneliness is welcomed
into a family where little children need her and will soon
love her dearly. The uncomforted places in her heart become
healed, for the touch of a little child is very healing. If she
is willing to forget herself and live for that little child, something
new springs up within her; she does not understand
it, but those who watch her know that all is well. Sometimes
long afterwards she reads her own heart's story and opens it<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</SPAN></span>
to us. "I was torn with longing for my home. I dreamed
night after night about it, and I used to waken just wild to
run back. And yet I knew if I had, it would have been
destruction to my soul. And then the baby came, and you
put her into my arms, and she grew into my heart, and she
took away all that feeling, till I forgot I ever had it." This
was the story of one, a young wife, for whom the natural
joys of home can never be. But if there is selfishness or
slackness or a weak desire to drift along in easiness, taking
all and giving nothing, things are otherwise. For such the
nurseries hold nothing but noise and interruptions. We ask
to be spared from such as these. Or if they come, may
they be inspired by the constraining love of Christ and "The
Glory of the Usual."</p>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><SPAN name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></SPAN> <i>Overweights of Joy</i>, ch. xxiii. Suhinie left the nursery for a few hours'
rest at noon on February 2, 1910. She fell asleep, to awaken in heaven.</p>
</div>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.