The Easton Theological School in upstate New York houses the archive of the American Baptist missionary Jacob Wright (1812-1883), the first missionary to travel to Assam. A researcher from Dulung spent a week in the archive (it was all he could afford on the fellowship he was granted) to consult material for the book that he was writing on the advent of print in Assam. He was particularly interested in tracing the career of T J Wise (1811-1881), the missionary-printer who had accompanied Jacob Wright. But while perusing the documents, our researcher noticed T J Wise’s sudden disappearance from the records. Intrigued, he tried to piece together the story.
Extract from a report by Jacob Wright:
Since the episode concerning our former associate, Theodore James Wise, I have thought much but have waited for some time before treating this subject at length. I wished to seek the views of the members of the mission here at Dulung before venturing to offer counsel to others. Now that a month has passed since the last meeting we ought to be able to speak calmly and with knowledge of the facts.
Before leaving for Calcutta, Brother Wise came to say goodbye. Or Theo, as I shall henceforth refer to him. It pained me greatly to sit through the meeting last month, particularly since Theo was chosen by the great Adoniram Judson in Burma when a way seemed to open to China. But to point out the error of Theo’s ways or pass judgment on him in so many words did not seem desirable. I could see Brother Walling was almost in tears while Nandeswar blubbered. I have spoken to Nandeswar and reminded him that propriety of conduct and composure of mind ought to be his at all times since he is our first convert in these hills, and the eyes of the heathen are on him. A living Christian lives unto God, even when he lives in the world, and is willing to leave worldly business, and worldly things for Christ.
Theo has left Dulung to take up the position he has been offered as superintendent of the Military Orphan Press in Calcutta. That he is qualified for the job is not in doubt. He is an excellent printer, painstaking, and knowledgeable about all matters relating to the running of a press. Theo did not come alone. Elizabeth was with him. She is the cause of his fall and looked frightened. Mrs Wright and she cried together. It is one of the few times I have seen Mary cry. Not even when the grave robbers opened our first-born’s grave in the expectation of finding treasure did Mary cry. Nor did she cry when she was parted from our daughters when the time came for them to be sent to America to receive education in a Christian land and be raised in a more healthful climate.
Theo’s removal will affect our work here in Assam. Printing the Bible, tracts and job work may cease or diminish, at least for a time. Theo took good care of the Press and was a printer – which none of us can claim to be, even if we have all shouldered that burden at one time or another. I pray to the Lord to send us a printer before long.
The printing of my Dictionary in Assamese and English is stopped. When I first proposed the dictionary, Theo was not very forthcoming, saying that more important mission work would suffer. He complained about the cost, said Treasurer Smith in Boston would be unhappy about the pecuniary aspect of the Dictionary, and that without a sum of money assured he could not commit to the work. But he has ever been a man who could remove obstacles. No doubt that is why he was chosen by Brother Judson when the invitation came from our noble friend Captain Jenkins, the Governor-General’s Agent in Assam, to start a mission station in Sadiya. How it gladdened Brother Judson’s heart to think of a line of stations from Bangkok, and of the intervening stations, Ava, Rangoon, Kyouk Phyoo, Moulmein and Tavoy, to Sadiya in Assam, on the frontiers of China
Theo and I left Rangoon, journeying by ship to Calcutta, and then up the treacherous Brahmaputra in country boats to Sadiya. Theo set up the infant press and brought out our first books and tracts in Shan and Khamti. Thousands and thousands of acres of wild jungle lands were being tamed and turned into tea gardens. But the tribes in the area remained warlike and one night they attacked the military garrison, setting it on fire and murdering the British officer and some of the sepoys. We escaped by running to the bank of the river, taking a boat moored to the shore, and rowing quietly out into the middle. Theo went back the next day to bury the type and the small parts of the printing machine so that they might not be destroyed by the wild tribesman. When we settled in Dulung (having given up our plan of finding a route to China due to the troublesome tribes and the wildness of the mountains), he installed the printing press here. What a fine sight it was to see the fifty men and boys praying in the morning before commencing work! Tracts, translations of the Bible in several languages, and school primers poured out in a steady stream. Though mission printing should always have the first place, job work can be profitably done with very few extra hands to pay all expenses. Theo managed to keep the Press supplied with job work from the government offices and tea gardens. And not only did he find the means to publish the Dictionary, he corrected many of the small errors that had crept in. It will be a sad day when this mission is compelled to go to Calcutta for printing, or is placed at the mercy of native printers.
Theo’s foolishness has rendered the mighty weapon of the Press inoperable at this time when the culture of tea in Assam has reached fourteen million pounds annually. The Government is awake and devising more rapid steam communication on the Brahmaputra. There are native presses springing up everywhere in Assam. Indeed, the satradhikar of Majuli satra has already acquired one. The educated Hindoos, the enemies of Christianity, have taken to the press to defend their creeds, and put down Christianity. What the mission here most wants at the present time is the Dictionary and books scientific and religious – the whole Bible, Concordance, Commentaries – Tracts, Aids to Theological Study and Biblical Knowledge – any and everything on the Evidences of Christianity. And here we are facing a situation in which the Press may have to be sold for a song, to be an engine for the propagation of Hindoo faith in the hands of the Satradhikar of Auniati Satra, one of the leading priests in the country, and one of the wealthiest!
We are informed by the Government that a way to China has at last been opened. I wish my dear wife and I were as well and strong, and as young as we were when we first came to Assam with Theo. But how pleasant it is for us to buckle on the harness, gird up the loins, and enter upon this grand and glorious work! If Assam, and Burma, and China can be connected by a line of mission stations, occupied by a united band of devoted, hard-working laborers, what a glorious consummation! O happy lot, to be allowed to bear a part in the work of bringing an apostate world to the feet of Jesus. But he who talked of printing and scattering the pages of the truth in the provinces of China will not be with us …
We bide our time. The rainy season will soon be over. The coolies are hired; the elephants are ready. The fields are ripening; our harvest awaits. O happy lot, to live in these days!
Report written by Nandeswar Judson, a native assistant at Dulung, Upper Assam:
Sir, the Lord has been very merciful towards me, that he has brought me to this station to see my sins and become a disciple of Christ. So many years I walked alone, and I had not any Christian brother to enjoy myself in speaking of the love of God and in praising his holy name, therefore, I did not feel so happy as I do now.
Sir, last winter Mr Wise and I went to the villages from Dulung to Nowgong by boat and by land, preaching and distributing the tracts and gospels. Some people heard our strange word, and attended very well, but some did not like to hear, especially the gurus and priests, fearing that their profit will perish if they will hear the gospel and embrace it. We passed through a village of Brahmins where we were received very coldly. The men avoided conversation. One man for the sake of ridicule told a boy to take a book. It is a favorite saying of these proud fellows, ‘We are not children that we want to read your books.’ These fellows also told us: ‘You say in English, A, B, C, D, we say, kaw, khaw, gaw, ghaw. You say, one, two, three, four; we say, ek, dui, tini, sari. You speak different words from us, but we all mean the same thing.’ They seemed to have found a difficulty distinguishing the difference in sound between the name of our Lord Jesu and their Krishnu. But I suspected from the twinkling of one old man’s eye that he very well knew the difference and adhered to the same pronunciation to make our religion appear to be nearly the same as his own.
One day having visited an old Brahmin, who was insensible as a rock to the force of truth, Mr Wise became thoughtful. In the evening when we were resting on the boat, he asked me if I thought the people of Assam would ever become Christians. I replied that I did not think the older persons ever would, but that many of the young people, being able to read and hearing from time to time about the Christian religion, would believe in Christ. Mr Wise did not say anything to this. A fire was lit to keep away the savage beasts that lurked in the adjoining jungles. The boatmen cooked their simple meal of rice. A tent was pitched in preference to sleeping on the boat. It was a calm evening; the moon was looking down on us.
Mr Wise showed me a letter from his daughter in America. He said he doubted if he had on an average heard from his children more than twice a year since he left them. ‘I sometimes feel like a bear robbed of her whelps,’ he said. ‘But the Lord is merciful in that they all keep their health and seem to be doing well.’
Mr Wise began to sing a hymn he was translating. ‘I get one of these hymns in mind,’ he told me, ‘and it goes on grinding when I lie awake, or when I wake in the morning, and at odd intervals of work.’ He asked my opinion, saying, ‘A native who knows English is the best critic in respect to anything translated from the English.’ The music seemed to move him more than the words. The beautiful music also seemed to move the boatmen who did not know what the words meant but hummed along as we sang the hymn over as I thought two or three times.
Sleep did not seem to come easy to Mr Wise. I think that there was some doubt in his mind about the efficacy of sermonizing and the distribution of tracts. It seemed to me that there was a change in him from the days when I first went to him as an apprentice and when, one day, I confessed to him that I was secretly taking opium for my weak heart. He was much affected by this, calling the Dulung Mission Press a den of iniquity, and saying that everything looked like ruin, he had the Press stopped for a few days till Brother Walling and yourself pleaded with him to resume printing.
I did not find him complaining now as before he used to of not being able to preach because the Press took up all his time. He praised my translation of the Indian Penal Code and said he would print it in installments in the mission magazine. He said it was far better to do this instead of publishing tracts. He also talked about your preface to the Dictionary. He said you mention Dr Walling’s great assistance in proposing matter for your work but that his impression was Brother Walling did next to nothing – that the material was simply the work of myself and the Pundits. He said your reason for singling out Dr Walling is that it is a more dignified name than mine and it gives the impression that Dr Walling is only one who has done enough to merit notice. He said he would be glad when the printing of the Dictionary was over and that he regretted he had to do anything with it. He would not insert his name as printer, he said.
Sir, what your reasons may have been I do not know. But mission work will undoubtedly be affected by the departure of Mr Wise. My people are not dying for worldly riches, but they are dying for the bread of life, which comes down from heaven not alone for the Americans but also for the poor heathen. More than two-thirds of the country is lying desolate for want of preachers. Sir, I feel myself daily very sorrowful in seeing the people, how they bow down to wood and stone. Sir, I very much wish to go to America to see the people of God and join myself with them in prayer and praise to God.
From a letter by written by Mrs Mary Wright, wife of Rev Jacob Wright, to her daughters in America:
Dear ones, I have just finished reading your letters. They made me forget what a great distance separates us. Indeed, reading letters and newspapers are my greatest consolation here. They make the separation from you, my loved ones, less intolerable. But I feel it a privilege to be stationed here, the home of your childhood, and the resting place of Sophia, my first-born. Nature, in her wild and untamed artistry, has made this place beautiful and your Papa’s skills have raised a comfortable bungalow. The peepal tree in the mission compound under which my beloved daughters played is here, and the trees your darling Papa planted to mark the birth of each one of his dear daughters have grown to a goodly size. The grand, old mission elephant on the back of which you enjoyed a ride in the evenings is here too. But he threw Papa the other day and I fear your Papa now walks with a limp.
Theo and Elizabeth have caused us all much sorrow and pain. Elizabeth is Pori, the daughter of one of our native assistants, the same bright, cheerful Pori who was your companion when you played under the old peepal tree. She was my Assamese daughter, such a source of comfort to me and my lonely heart, my Benjamin, the last of my flock left to me…
Imagine my feelings when Elizabeth first confessed to me that our grave and serious Theo had kissed her. I don’t know when I have been so thunderstruck! For such a man as Theo to lead Elizabeth astray took me aback. You can imagine Papa’s abhorrence of their conduct. But Theo has refused to be ashamed or penitent. Instead, he has claimed Elizabeth as his wife. It has been very hard for Papa. A great sorrow tells upon him and I watch him with anxiety. I often hear him weeping and praying that God may help him to understand. He is cheerful when he comes to us but I can see he has had a hard struggle.
Theo came to say goodbye, bringing Elizabeth with him. He dwelt on the early days of the mission and said he often thought of the trip we made with the first Mrs Wise and myself on elephants up the Naga hills. It was the first time white women had entered those hills. He remarked on how zealously we had labored for the heathen, and what privations and hardships we had endured, and how heartily we had rejoiced in them all.
Elizabeth married a Mr Baker. Mr Baker passed away suddenly after a few years of marriage. He was twenty years older than her but seemed in good health. There is a child. Pori came to us early. We raised her to be ladylike from her earliest days. She learnt all the useful household skills, was taught to be clean and tidy in her habits, and to have a meek demeanor throughout. No doubt that was the reason Nandeswar chose her to be Mr Baker’s bride.
About Mr Baker we do not know much. He was said to be of a good family in England and that he had a fortune left him which he wasted. After spending a good part of his life in different parts of India, he arrived in Assam, drawn here by what he had heard of the new tea plantations – he had hopes of gaining a fortune. Once he came in contact with the mission he felt disgusted by the rather dissolute nature of his previous life and returned to Christian ways once more. Seeking to lead a more settled life it was natural of him to seek a wife. Pori was chosen for him. Though Mr Baker was employed as an overseer in one of the tea estates he expressed a wish to make himself useful in mission work even at lower pay. Theo was training him to be a regular printer when he suddenly died.
Elizabeth’s boy will not be taken away from her and be sent to an orphanage, as is the normal practice when British men leave behind the children they have fathered on native women. There is a large population of Eurasian children growing up in the Indian cities, loosely brought up and demonstrating the worst qualities of both races. Government is seized of this matter and has taken measures to save these unfortunate orphaned or abandoned children who we ought to remember are fellow Christians. Schools and orphanages have been started and, with a view to their future useful employment, institutes have been established to train these poor, unfortunate children. One such is the Military Orphan Press in Calcutta which was started with the aim of training Eurasians as press-workers. Providence has chosen Theo as the superintendent of this Press.
Theo leaves for Calcutta tomorrow taking Elizabeth and the boy with him.
From the journal of T J Wise:
I have made over my Press business and have put matters into shape after getting my marching orders. Poor Sister Mary requested us, on the eve of our departure, to go to the big bungalow as Brother Wright was down with fever. But Brother Wright is up again! He is a strange customer, and make no mistake! One day you hear he is down with a burning fever and some days after that he is marching at the head of some fifty coolies.
It was no doubt an honor to be chosen by Brother Judson when the invitation came from the authorities in Assam. This happened not long after I had arrived in Rangoon with a press gifted by a church in New York. The presses in Burma were kept in constant operation with editions of thousands of copies of the Bible, tracts, and school primers. In our new mission I printed small editions of five hundred copies. But we did not despise the day of small things, and waited for the day when the door to China would be fully opened.
My primary object in paying a visit was to assure my beloved friends that although no longer enjoying the honor and privilege of being their associate, I could still feel that their trials were my trails, their joys and sorrows were my joys and sorrows, and that I would delight in hearing of the successes of those who are so patiently and perseveringly toiling on in the field. I did not want any coldness to continue between us and Brother and Sister Wright for I cannot and will not forget who was present at two of the most eventful periods of my life, my arrival in Assam and the death of Maria, my first wife. But I have never for a moment thought of proposing to return to the field and wished to prevent any erroneous impression in this regard in the minds of my friends.
Brother Wright sat bolt upright in his chair, watching us, his bright blue eyes undimmed by age and attacks of malaria. He said he wished no record was kept but a good one. He asked that I burn all the letters I had received from him, and to kindly let him know I had done so. He had done his part by doing for my letters what he wished done to his.
Men and elephants await his command to begin the long march. He walks with a limp and there is some suspicion whether he will be able to mount an elephant again in his life. But he himself harbors no doubt. Not for him the nightmare that I know haunts Brother Walling – in which hundreds of strange and monstrous flying machines struggle to get to China, only to fall from the skies into valleys of dense, impenetrable jungle.
Brother Wright does not know of his effect on Elizabeth. She was so intimidated by his presence that she reverted to native ways. She sat on the floor and gazed at the ground. I raised her, and made her sit in a chair. The Lord is on my side and I am not afraid.
Sister Wright stopped me from talking about my hymns. She cannot bear to listen to music. It is too moving, too upsetting. In her grey eyes are wisdom and suffering. She has been a devoted helpmeet. On her fell the task of running the mission schools in the province. She bore and raised five daughters, buried one, found homes for the girls in America, and assisted in the making of the Dictionary. It was Sister Wright who taught Elizabeth how to read and write Assamese, to do arithmetic and to sew and knit, clean and cook. Elizabeth and Sister Wright cried together. There are things they remember.
A few years in Calcutta and then, as I approach the end of life’s journey, my final years in London. If the Lord wills, we will commence a modest guest house there for our missionary brothers and sisters travelling home to America on furlough from Burma and India and countries beyond. A small boarding house, neat and tidy as my precious Elizabeth’s skills are likely to make it, a place of rest fit for missionary brethren who serve the Lord in distant lands.
I leave tomorrow for Calcutta by steamer with Elizabeth and her silent little boy who we have named Felix.
*
What Brother Jacob Wright’s concluding comment on the T J Wise episode was cannot be ascertained with certainty. This is because the scan of the relevant document made available to our researcher by the small and harried staff of the archive at Easton Theological School is of poor quality. The researcher has requested a better scan.