If it was Keith Falconer’s life and death that sealed the missionary love of the church to Aden, it was the death of Thomas Valpy French[146] that turned many eyes to Muscat. Bishop French it was who signalized the completion of his fortieth year of missionary service by attacking, single handed, the seemingly impregnable fortress of Islam in Oman. He is called by Eugene Stock, “the most distinguished of all Church Missionary Society missionaries.”
We are tempted to describe this man’s early mission work in founding the Agra college and protecting the native Christians in the mutiny; his pioneer work in Derajat; his founding of the St. John Divinity School at Lahore; his controversies with the Mohammedans; and his manifold labors as the first Bishop of Lahore, but we can only chronicle here the closing years of his useful life. After forty years of “labors abundant” and “journeyings oft” he resigned his bishopric to travel among Arabic-speaking people and learn more of their language. He visited the Holy Land, Armenia, Bagdad and Tunis, everywhere diligently seeking to learn Arabic, and persuade the Moslems of the truth of Christianity. He became, as some one expressed it, a “Christian fakir” for the sake of the gospel and desired to end his life as he began it, in pioneer missionary-work.
As we have said it was Mackay of Uganda who riveted the bishop’s attention to Muscat. Such a plea from such lips could not but touch the heart of such a veteran. No one else came forward, so how could he refuse? He knew that age and infirmities were coming upon him, but he wanted to die a missionary to Mohammedans. He had, to use his own words, “an inexpressible desire” to preach to the Arabs. He was willing to begin the work on his own account with the hope that the Church Missionary Society would take it up.
What was the character of this lion-heart who dared to lift his grey head high and respond alone, to Mackay’s call for “half a dozen men, the pick of the English Universities to make the venture in faith”? One who was his friend and fellow-missionary for many years wrote: “To live with him was to drink in an atmosphere that was spiritually bracing. As the air of the Engadine is to the body, so was his intimacy to the soul. It was an education to be with him. To acquire anything approaching his sense of duty was alone worth a visit to India. He demanded implicit obedience from those whom he directed, and often the cost was considerable. If any were unwilling to face a risk, he fell grievously in the bishop’s estimation. There was nothing that he thought a man should not yield—home, or wife, or health—if God’s call was apparent. But then every one knew that he only asked of them what he himself had done, and was always doing. How shall I speak of his unworldliness? India is full of tales of this; of acts that often led to somewhat humorous results. There was no in season or out of season with him. He was always on his Master’s business. No biography, it is said, will be complete that does not show this side of his character. To outsiders frequently it seemed to lead him into inconsistencies. It did not seem incongruous for him to turn to the lady next to him, at a large luncheon party, and begin to discuss the heavenly Bride of Christ; neither was it strange when hymn-books were distributed at a large reception he held at Government House (kindly lent for the bishop’s sojourn there), and the evening party was closed with hymns and prayer.”
Rev. Robert Clark of the Punjab, Church Missionary Society, testifies: “When he first began his work in Agra, he studied about sixteen hours a day. He taught in his school, he preached in the bazaars, he instructed inquirers for baptism, he prepared catechists for ordination, he was engaged in writing books, at the same time that he was learning Arabic, Persian, Urdu, Sanscrit, and Hindi with munshis. Such excellence few can attain to, because few can safely follow in his steps in this respect. But all can copy his example of prayerful labor. When he spent his holidays in travels and in preaching excursions far and near, he showed us how to spend every hour of relaxation in the most profitable way. When he refused to possess even a very ordinary conveyance, because he thought that a missionary should go on foot, and declined to use anything but the most common furniture for his house, he set us an example of self-abnegation, and showed us what, in his opinion, should be the attitude of the missionary before the world. When he spent his earliest mornings with God, with his Hebrew Bible and Greek Testament before him, he often invited some friend to sit by him to share with him the rich thoughts which the Word of God suggested to his mind.”
This was the man who in solitary loneliness, without one friend to stand at his side, planted and upheld till death the banner of the cross where it had never been planted before. In the hottest season of the year, with a little tent and two servants he was preparing to push inland when death interposed and gave rest to the veteran of sixty-six years. “We fools accounted his life madness, but he is numbered among the children of God and his lot is among the saints.” (Wisdom of Solomon v. 4, 5.) Only Judas can “have indignation saying to what purpose is this waste?” This broken box of exceeding precious ointment has given fragrance to the whole world.
We will let Bishop French tell his own brief story of the work at Muscat, beginning with the time when we travelled together down the Red Sea both in quest of God’s plan for us in Arabia.[147]
Near Aden, Jan. 22d, 1891.
“Boisterous winds and turbulent seas have racked my brain sorely, and I have seldom had such torture in this line. But we are close to the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, and hope to reach Aden some twelve hours hence. I should have been sorry to miss Hodeidah, where I had a long day (spite of difficulty of reaching it by sambuca or small boat of broad and heavy build), returning to ship in the evening. I left my friends, Maitland and a young American missionary, and made my way straight out through a gate of one of the stout city walls, into the country beyond, where are palm-groves and some fairly imposing stuccoed country-houses of merchants and men of rank. Under an arcade (as the sun was to be feared) I got a little congregation together, some learned, others unlearned, and addressed them for over an hour, eliciting the opposition of one or two of the ulumā, or educated men. For the first time in this part of my journey, my mouth seemed a little opened and heart enlarged to witness for Christ, and a few seemed really struck and interested. I tried to get entrance into a mosque or two, as of old time into Afghan mosques with Gordon and others, but failed to find the proper Imams within. I secured the lower steps of a flight of steps leading up to the private residence of a high Turkish officer, in rich uniform, a general of army here, not knowing whose steps I was occupying. However, the old gentleman came down (as a Roman centurion in old time might have done) and took his seat, with a few others, on his own doorstep, and listened with singular docility and thankfulness, and begged my blessing on his office, and his fulfillment of its arduous duties. After first leave-taking, he sent down to me a beautiful walking-stick of lemon-wood, so I had to mount the steps to express my gratitude and acknowledgment of his singular courtesy and friendship. Then came a still more enthusiastic and affectionate leave-taking still, and warm kissing of hands, to Maitland’s astonishment. I certainly never experienced such kindness and friendship from any Turkish official before in any quarter. I trust the message may have struck his heart. Anyhow, he gladly accepted a copy of the whole Bible—this is one of the most bigoted of Arab cities.
“There was an excellent colporteur here this week, of the Bible Society, Stephanos, a Jewish convert, I believe, and excellent Arabic scholar. The Wali, or viceroy of the city, has forbidden his carrying Arabic Bibles into the interior, though the Hebrew ones for the Jews at Sennaa are passed, some six days, into the mountains. In Jidda itself, I had some small measure of encouragement, but not nearly so much as in Hodeidah, which has now outstripped Mocha as a thriving trade centre in those parts.”
Muscat, Gulf of Oman,
February 13th, 1891.
“I arrived here on Sunday last with Mr. Maitland, of the Cambridge Delhi Mission, whom I met in Egypt, and who spends a few weeks for his health’s sake with me, perhaps until Easter. We did not like throwing ourselves on the British Consul here, as we thought it might embarrass him to entertain Christian missionaries on their first arrival here; and we had very great difficulty in finding even the meanest quarters for the first day or two, but are now in quarters in an adjoining village, more tolerable as regards necessary comforts, belonging to the American Consul, who is agent for a New York house of business. I have written to India for a Swiss-cottage tent, as a resource in case of no possible residence being available here, or anything approaching even the English village public-house, or Persian caravanserai. In the adjoining hills such a tent might give shelter during the hot weather, if the Arabs will tolerate the presence of a Christian missionary. “Of possibilities of entrance of a mission, I feel it would be premature to speak yet. We are pushing on our Arabic studies, and I am glad to find how much more intelligible my Arab teaching is than in Tunis and Egypt. I hope soon to find a Sheikh of some learning, to carry on translations in Arabic under his guidance, if life and health be spared. I feel most thankful to feel myself again in a definite temporary centre, at least of missionary effort. ‘Patience and long-suffering with joyfulness’ I would humbly and heartily desire to cultivate, as most appropriate to my present condition and circumstances. The British Consul, a very polite and courteous and high principled man, is hopeless as to any effect being produced on the Oman Arabs, and feels his position precludes him from making common cause with any effort for making proselytes among them. So when Maitland goes I shall be pretty lonely here, not for the first time, however, and I only pray that the loneliness may help me to realize more fully the blessed Presence which fills, strengthens, animates, and supports.”
His last letter written from Muscat to the Church Missionary Society is dated April 24th, 1891. A portion of it is as follows:
“Patience here, as elsewhere (and more than in most scenes I have visited), is a great prerequisite. I still live alone in a borrowed house, a spare one belonging to the American Consul here, and, rough as it is, it is amply sufficient for a missionary, and is in the heart of the town. I cannot get many—very few, indeed—to come to my house and read, which is naturally one of my great objects. They ask me into their shops and houses sometimes, to sit and discuss on the great question at issue between us and them, some Beluchees, mostly Arabs; and the latter I vastly prefer, and consider more hopeful. There are some Hindus in the crowded bazaars, but I see little of them—partly because of the noise of narrow streets and traffic, and partly because I do not wish to be tempted away from the Arabic. Most of the few Hindu traffickers living here understand Arabic.
“There is much outward observance of religious forms; there are crowds of mosques; rather a large proportion of educated men and women too; the latter take special interest in religious questions, and sometimes lead the opposition to the gospel. They have large girls’ schools and female teachers. There is a lepers’ village nigh at hand to the town. I occupied for the second time this morning a shed they have allotted me, well roofed over; and those poor lepers, men and women, gathered in fair numbers to listen. Chiefly, however, I reach the educated men by the roadside or in a house-portico, sometimes even in a mosque, which is to me a new experience. Still there is considerable shyness, occasionally bitter opposition; yet bright faces of welcome sometimes cheer me and help me on, and I am only surprised that so much is borne with. I have made special efforts to get into the mosques, but most often this is refused. The Moolahs and Muallims seem afraid of coming to help me on in my translations, or in encountering with me more difficult passages in the best classics. This has surprised and disconcerted me rather; but I have been saved in the main from anything like depression, and have had happy and comfortable proofs of the Saviour’s gracious Presence with me. The Psalms, as usual, seem most appropriate and answerable to the needs of such a pioneer and lonely work....
“If I can get no faithful servant and guide for the journey into the interior, well versed in dealing with Arabs and getting needful common supplies (I want but little), I may try Bahrein, or Hodeidah and Sennaa, and if that fails, the North of Africa again, in some highland; for without a house of our own the climate would be insufferable for me—at least, during the very hot months—and one’s work would be at a standstill. But I shall not give up, please God, even temporarily, my plans for the interior, unless, all avenues being closed, it would be sheer madness to attempt to carry them out.”
He never reached the interior, for he received a sunstroke on his way from Muscat to the neighboring village, Mattra, in an open boat. He was removed to the Consulate but scarcely regained consciousness except to utter a “God bless you” to the Consul, Colonel Mockler. He died on May 14th, 1891. The very manner of his death fulfilled, more than he ever thought, his own words in one of his letters from Muscat: “In memory of Henry Martyn’s pleadings for Arabia, Arabs and the Arabic, I seem almost trying at least to follow more directly in his footsteps and under his guidance, than even in Persia or India, however incalculable the distance at which the guided one follows the leader!”
The grave of Bishop French is in the bottom of a narrow ravine circled by black rocks and reached by boat, by rounding the rocky point to the south of Muscat. Here are many graves of sailors of the Royal marine and others who died on this burning and inhospitable coast. Here also rests the body of Rev. George E. Stone, the American Missionary, who was called home in the summer of 1899, after a short period of service.
In Memory of Thomas Valpy French, Bishop Missionary.