# On the Coromandel Coast/Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV
THE BISHOP AND THE ARCHDEACON
Kings look for war, wicked men for quarrels; but good men look only for peace.–Sloka.
Frederick Gell, the Bishop of Madras in 1877, was the fourth son of the Rev. Philip Gell. He was born at Matlock Rectory in Derbyshire, 1820. His mother belonged to a Cheshire family named Dod, one of whom was a friend of Bishop Heber.
When Philip Gell was appointed curate-in-charge of Matlock the rector was non-resident. Miss Dod and her sister lived at the rectory. The curate was speedily captivated, and before long he became engaged to the lady. They were married and took up their residence at the rectory, where they lived for twenty-two years. A large family was born to them numbering thirteen, eight of whom lived.
Frederick Gell and his elder brothers were educated under Dr. Arnold at Rugby. Philip Gell in one of his letters to his son (1835) described the doctor as ‘truly a man of fierce countenance, but of a kind and affectionate disposition.’ In the following year the careful father, who possessed strong evangelical opinions, warned his son against worshipping Arnold. While expressing a hope that he would get much good from him, he said that some of the boys made an idol of Arnold and would not believe that their beloved headmaster could hold a ​wrong opinion. 'But he is not infallible,' concluded Philip Gell.
At that time there was a notable group of boys at the school, who were afterwards to distinguish themselves in various spheres of action. A small volume called 'Memorials of Bishop Gell,' printed at the press belonging to the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, Madras (1905), contains some of Bishop Gell's letters. One, written in reply to an invitation from Lord Sandhurst to a Rugby dinner held in Bombay, July 30, 1898, described his schoolfellows thus :-
'I went to Rugby at the beginning of 1834 and left in the middle of 1839. Arnold's two most distinguished pupils finished their school course at the end of my first half. Stanley, to fulfil a brilliant career at Oxford, then to become Canon of Canterbury and, in due time, Dean of Westminster, and a faithful writer of history and essays; and Vaughan, after a no less brilliant career at Cambridge, to be Headmaster of Harrow, and afterwards Master of the Temple and Dean of Llandaff, and a no less fruitful composer of excellent sermons. Other Rugbeians of my day who distinguished themselves were Clough, the poet; Hughes the author of the popular book "Tom Brown"; Fox, the first Rugby missionary, the founder, with his colleague Noble, of the C.M.S. Mission to the eighteen million Telugus in Eastern India. His career was a brief one of a few years between 1840 and 1850. But the mission he began grew, and is now represented by fourteen European clergy and seventeen Telugus. Then, too, there was Bradley, now Stanley's successor, as Dean of Westminster, and Matthew Arnold of literary celebrity, eldest son of the great Headmaster.
'Several came out to India : Seton-Karr, who rose to high office in Calcutta; Sherer of the North-West Provinces, a pleasant writer of Indian reminiscences; ​and Hodson, who fell at Delhi. Arbuthnot, a Madras civilian, who rose to be Member of Council, then Member of the Supreme Council, Calcutta, with the significant letters K.C.S.T. attached to his name, and then Member of the Indian Council, which post he has only recently vacated.
'Adam was also my contemporary, who was on the Governor's staff, Bombay, I believe, for some years, and afterwards came out as Governor of Madras, which appointment he held for about a year and then died.
'These are a few of the many Eugbeians whom I remember and knew. They were all men of high principle, who used the advantage of the Christian and manly education they had received under Dr. Arnold for mitigating the evils around them, and promoting righteousness and prosperity to the best of their powers.'
Bishop Gell's friendship with Bradley remained to the end of his life; and, though they seldom met, they continued to correspond to the very last.
The Rugby Fox mastership of the Telugu College at Masulipatam had its origin in a movement made by Frederick Gell himself in 1848, long before he was called to the episcopate. His old schoolfellow, the Kev. H. W. Fox, went out to India in 1841, as he described in his letter ; and after establishing the mission he returned to England in 1848. His health was undermined and he died soon afterwards. Frederick Gell, with the consent of Dr. Tait, raised money, which he called the Fox Memorial Fund. The interest went towards maintaining a mastership in India for promoting Christian education at the Church Missionary Society's college at Masulipatam. To the end of his days the bishop was deeply interested in this mastership and in the Telugu College.
From Rugby Frederick Gell went to Trinity College, Cambridge. The college was chosen for him by his ​father, who expressed a great wish, which was carried out, that he should have Charles J. Vaughan, afterwards Master of the Temple, as tutor. In 1839 he won a Kugby exhibition, and the October of that year saw him in residence at the University. The following April he took the Bell scholarship, which was succeeded in course of time by other honours and distinctions. In the Mathematical Tripos he was twelfth senior optime and his name appeared in the first class of the Classical Tripos.
In the year 1843 he was elected Fellow and Tutor of Christ's College, and ordained deacon at Ely Cathedral to the curacy of St. Mary's Church, Cambridge. He took priest's orders in 1844. As curate and lecturer he led a busy life, always showing a keen interest in all matters pertaining to mission and church work in India.
After thirteen active years at Cambridge he was offered an examining chaplaincy to the Bishop of London, Dr. A. C. Tait, who selected him on account of the sympathy he had always evinced in the mission cause. It was probably through this connexion with Bishop Tait that he was ultimately led to the episcopate of Madras. The offer of the bishopric came on the death of Bishop Dealtry in 1861. It was a surprise to the humble-minded man, but he accepted it. The consecration took place at Fulham, and before sailing to India his D.D. degree was conferred upon him.
On his consecration he received a kind and sympathetic letter from Bishop Cotton of Calcutta. Among other subjects the metropolitan drew his attention to two matters which would require his immediate consideration on arrival in Madras. One was his choice of a residence and the other was the choice of an archdeacon. There was no official residence for the bishops of Madras. His predecessor had occupied a house in the Presidency town and another at Ootacamund, both of which were his own ​private property. The Bishop of Calcutta hinted that Bishop Dealtry had lived too much on the hills, where he was out of reach of his subordinates. He expressed a hope that Bishop Gell for the sake of his work would reside more in the Presidency town, which hope was amply fulfilled.
In November 1861 the Bishop with his sister, Miss Caroline Gell, arrived in Madras, and he was duly enthroned in St. George's Cathedral. He allowed himself only a few weeks to establish his sister in a house, which he was to share with her, and then started on his peregrinations through the diocese. The severest critic could not accuse him of shirking his duty in respect to the paying of pastoral visits, nor of retiring to the alluring climate of the Nilgiris. He travelled as indefatigably and roughed it as uncomfortably as any itinerating missionary under his jurisdiction.
In those days there were few railways, and the weary miles had to be traversed by means of palanquins, pony-jutkas, tongas, chairs borne on the shoulders of coolies, lastly and most frequently by bullock-carts.
The build of the bullock-cart varies. It may assume a tolerably comfortable form with springs and cushioned seats and ample room for the feet; or, on the other hand, it may be springless and consist of a flat-boarded plane without seats, cushions, windows, or even a well for the feet. A mattress or at least a bundle of straw is necessary to save the traveller from being jolted to a jelly on the rough country roads. Between the spring coach which is clumsy in its jerking motion and very noisy and the country cart there are many kinds of vehicles, each a little more uncomfortable than the other. The pace at which the cattle draw the ordinary country cart is about two miles an hour.
Many hundreds of miles did Bishop Gell travel in this ​way by whatever vehicle he could procure. He considered himself fortunate if he secured the services of a pair of fast bulls capable of trotting three or four miles an hour instead of walking at the rate of two. Various also were the accidents that happened, and still more numerous were the escapes. The bullocks sometimes ran away with him. They began their tricks early, and he thus describes them in the first year of his episcopate : 'Three or four times in the course of the journey my bullocks dashed off the road through the ditch (happily not very deep) and ran imminent risk of breaking the springs and injuring themselves and me. On one of these occasions they rushed between two trees in the adjoining field. On another they dashed down a steep place at the side of the road and came close up to a block of brick buildings, which would have smashed the carriage if it had run on two or three more feet.'
When travelling by bullock-cart a conveyance is necessary for each person, Only in dire need is it shared. The uneven gait of the cattle and the roughness of the road throw travellers occupying the same cart from side to side and cause collisions and contusions. Now and then there was no alternative but for the bishop and his chaplain to ride together. On one occasion when the Kev. S. Morley, afterwards Bishop of Tinnevelly and Madura, was chaplain, he lost the bishop. They had arranged to travel all night and 'laid their dak' accordingly. It was usual for the chaplain to take the lead and for the bishop to follow close behind as close, that is to say, as the dust would permit. In the middle of the night Mr. Morley dropped into an uneasy slumber from which he awoke with a start. He glanced back along the road for the glimmer of the lights on the cart that carried the bishop, but could see no trace of them anywhere. The way was hedgeless and the country ​level so that he ought to have distinguished them had they been a mile or more in the rear. Calling for a halt he listened for the sound of bullock-bells, and became uncomfortably aware of a dead silence broken only by the deep sighing of the bullocks. The driver assured him that his lordship had not passed on in front. Perturbed in mind and fearing an accident he turned back, looking anxiously at the road sides for signs of the missing prelate. At length he reached the point where they had changed bullocks; there he discovered the bishop resigned to his fate and prepared to spend the rest of the night at the lonely spot. It turned out that only one pair of bullocks had been sent to meet them and these had been yoked to the foremost cart by the sleepy native driver without informing its occupant. The bishop was left with the two tired pairs, the drivers of which refused to take their cattle any further than the stage for which they had arranged. Under the circumstances there was no alter-native but to share the foremost cart if they wished to proceed.
These adventures were so common that in later years he did not make any note of them, beyond congratulating himself on having escaped with only a shaking, which, be it understood, meant also a bruising.
On one of his tours he arrived at our house in Trichinopoly without any luggage. He was to hold a confirmation at the church. Fortunately he had not arranged to take the service immediately on arrival. All his vestments were with his lost baggage, including his dressing-case. He and Mr. Morley had come ninety miles from the district where confirmations had been held in the native churches. The portmanteaus were in another cart, which to the best of their belief was following closely behind their own conveyance.
We marvelled at his patience under the delay and the ​unfailing good-humour of his domestic chaplain. Tired, jolted, dusty, and hot, they were unable to avail themselves of the refreshing warm bath that had been prepared, or to take the couple of hours rest to which they had been looking forward during the weary hours of slow travelling.
But the bishop was not always to be seen in the humble bullock-cart. Occasionally he travelled in greater state and with more speed than was desirable or safe. When visiting the Rajah of Mysore two carriages drawn by beautiful horses were sent from the palace to bring him and his chaplain into the town of Mysore. An escort of a dozen horsemen (outriders) and forty lancers of the Silladar Horse accompanied the vehicles and formed an imposing guard. But the pleasure of travelling in such state was probably qualified by the cloud of dust which must have enveloped the cortege.
When he went to Ellichpore, where troops were then stationed, he was conveyed in a two-wheeled transit drawn by four artillery horses. His own words tell the tale in a letter addressed to his sister in England from Amraoti in the Berars, dated December 6, 1866.
'Since leaving Bombay last Thursday evening we have travelled to Akola, three hundred and sixty miles, thence to Budneira, fifty miles, all by rail. Then last Friday, November 30, we left the rail and travelled in a bullock transit northwards six miles to Oomrawthee (Amraoti); then on Saturday morning we travelled further north, thirty-five miles to Ellichpore in very grand fashion viz. in a two-wheeled transit drawn by four artillery horses full tilt over a very bad road. Most of it was a mere bandy track. About a mile on this side of Ellichpore down came one of our pole horses and smash went the pole. He was an ill-tempered biter and kicker, and was probably thinking evil when his accident befell him. He was, however, ​only humbled, not hurt; and on Monday morning was taking part with his brethren in trotting and galloping over the parade-ground with a gun-carriage. In returning from Ellichpore yesterday morning our hospitable military friend with whom we stayed there, Colonel Prescott, thinking that four horses were not enough for the exigencies of the road, supplied us with the full artillery team of six. Our three postilions brought their horses safely over the ground this time without accident, though occasionally shaking our bones much over the inequalities of the road and kicking up a tremendous dust.'
On the west coast the bishop had his experience of munchils hammocks slung on poles and carried by bearers and made the acquaintance of the house-boat on the back waters of Cochin and Travancore, the pleasantest mode of all travelling in the south of India.
A luxuriant tropical vegetation forms a beautiful setting to these natural canals. At sunset, when the flaming crimsons and yellows, the translucent greens and blues of the sky are reflected upon the smooth surface of the water, a glorious scene is presented which the traveller, reclining in ease and comfort, can fully appreciate. The boat glides evenly along and without any apparent effort, and though the mosquito is present, there is no dust to choke the pores of the skin, blind the dazzled eyes, and parch the throat. Most striking of all its features in contradistinction from journeying along the roads is its noiselessness, and the absence of toiling beasts and grinding wheels, shouting drivers and falling blows, necessary to keep the stupid animals moving, and to prevent them from lying down in the road.
Of his influence in the diocese I will leave others to speak in detail. His evangelical leanings gave him little sympathy in the earlier part of his episcopate with men who held extreme views in the opposite direction. But ​his patience and gentleness, his warm generosity and kindness of heart rendered him friendly to all. In the case of the native Christians and clergy he was especially patient over their shortcomings, preferring in the exercise of the highest charity to hope all things with regard to them. He recognised the enormous temptations to which native Christians are subject living among their heathen relatives ; and he dealt very tenderly with those who failed to live up to the standard of Christianity. High or low, rich or poor, he commanded respect and set an example of perfect living, as near as it can be perfect in this busy workaday world. The opinion recorded of him that he consistently presented in his person and teaching a high ideal, that he was devoted to the thorough performance of his duty, and that he was influenced by the highest and purest motives was endorsed by Christians and non-Christians alike. A remarkable testimony to this opinion was given in the columns of the leading native newspaper of South India, 'The Hindu,' which wrote as follows :
In his retirement Madras loses the influence of a great character. We are not Christians ; and we cannot pretend to be in any sense enthusiastic about the results of the propagation of the Christian gospel. But a pious man is a pious man, whether he be a Christian or a Hindu. Practical religion religion as concretised in thought, feeling and conduct is unsectional, above and beyond all forms and dogmas, and universal. And, as true Hindus, we are large-hearted enough to recognise in Dr. Gell a saintly personage in the presence of whom all sectarian strife is stilled, and the thought of petty outward difference is not.'
His deeds of charity were innumerable, and were performed with humble secrecy ; frequently in the case of personal relief they were known only to the recipient himself. One of his most striking characteristics was ​humility, and although a great scholar and bearing many university honours, he never showed any consciousness of superiority.
His earnest desire to die in harness kept him working longer than some of his friends thought advisable. In 1898, very much against his will, he was compelled through ill-health to resign his bishopric. His strength had materially diminished so as to interfere with the conscientious performance of his duties. In the interests of his Master's work it was imperative to make way for a younger and a stronger man. He had a great horror of being termed 'a returned empty,' a disrespectful appellation employed at one time towards colonial bishops who had retired. He openly expressed a hope that he might never come under that category, but that he might be numbered among those bishops who had died in harness and been buried in the land where they had laboured.
Bishop Gell was not without a quiet sense of humour which lightened many a contretemps in travelling. Mr. Morley was equally blessed with good spirits.
A clever attentive servant was for many years the personal attendant of the bishop. This man's name was Moonaswamy, a very common appellation among natives. When he entered the episcopal household there was already a Moonaswamy established. The bishop overheard his sister discussing the new boy's name and the difficulty of having two Moonaswamys in the house. He solved the knotty point by suggesting that the later arrival should be called Sunnaswamy, a nickname adopted at once by the 'boy' with great pride.
Another native servant claimed to have received his name from Bishop Gell. This man was unusually tall, so tall that he at last acquired a stoop from habitually bending his head to avoid having his turban swept off by the swinging punkahs. When the bishop was on tour he ​lunched at a house where this servant was butler. During tiffin the punkah caught the man's turban, and to his great confusion and shame he was left bareheaded. The bishop laughed and remarked on his height, setting the disturbed hostess at her ease with the observation that the 'boy' ought to be called Ramrod instead of Ramaswamy. It was overheard, and the man straightway assumed the name, which he jealously retained under the impression that it not only added to his dignity, but was also a passport of respectability that would weigh with every master and mistress whom he might serve.
With so gentle a personality it was unlikely that any action on his part should give rise to stories such as exist of Bishop Wilson of Calcutta, who is still remembered for his eccentric sermons and vigorous incisive manner. The tales which concern Bishop Gell relate rather to the adventures that befell those with whom he was brought into contact. There was one which we heard soon after our arrival in Madras, and which was solemnly repeated to us in Ceylon as having happened to Bishop Copleston before he passed on to Calcutta. Since my return to England it has been told to me by Canadians as having happened to their bishop. The world-wide chestnut runs as follows :
The bishop was on one of his innumerable tours far away from hotels and civil and military stations. He had accepted the hospitality of a missionary and his wife. It is customary for the missionary and his family, who all know the language well, to use the vernacular in speaking to their servants. When a guest arrives who does not know it the mistress instructs her butler how to address him in English. On this occasion the man was told that he was to call the bishop in the morning and take in the early tea. He was instructed to knock at the door, and on the bishop saying :​ 'Who is there?' he was to reply :
'The boy, my lord!'
The following morning the butler carried out his orders to the letter, arriving with the tea-tray at the bishop's door to the minute, and knocking as directed before entering. To the query ' Who is there ? ' the butler in his agitation at having to speak to so great a personage in an unaccustomed tongue, replied :
'The lord, my boy.'
It is more than a quarter of a century since it was told to us. Doubtless it is still doing duty in the diocese with Bishop Whitehead. Thanks to the rules of super-annuation the chestnut in India is endowed with a remarkable vitality and lives to embellish a succession of heroes without fear of detection. The old Anglo-Indian with a long memory who might say: 'I heard that same tale told of old So-and-so thirty years ago,' is safely planted in some suburban villa at home and has no power to blast the verdancy of the story and spoil the fun.
At another house up-country the bishop was to dine. The same difficulty existed with the servants over the English language and the butler needed drilling. In those early days it was the fashion on the arrival of dinner guests to offer them a glass of sherry. The butler had been instructed to bring the usual decanters of dark and light sherry and to offer a glass to the bishop with the sentence :
'My lord, will you have dark or light sherry ? '
The bishop arrived and the butler approached with the two decanters in his hand, a second servant bore the tray containing the glasses. His lordship was fairly electrified by hearing the startling words addressed to him :
'My God, will you have thick or clear?'
In justice to the butler it is only right to say that the word 'Swami,' the Tamil term for God, Lord or Chief, is commonly used by an inferior towards a superior, and in ​his own language the servant would have made use of Swami. His knowledge of English was too slight to allow of his understanding the subtle difference between the word 'God' and 'lord' as applicable to the bishop. He had forgotten the terms his mistress had applied to the different sherries and could only think of those by which the soups were known.
In the cemetery of St. George's Cathedral lies John Franklin Gell, a nephew of the bishop, the son of the Rev. John Philip Gell, for many years the Rector of St. John's, Netting Hill. The young man came out to his uncle and aunt, hoping that a warm climate would prove beneficial to his delicate constitution. His health improved and he became tutor to some minor zemindars who were living in Madras. But in 1884 he caught a chill which resulted in death at the age of thirty-three. His mother was Eleanor, the only daughter of Sir John Franklin, the great explorer of the regions of the Arctic circle.
After thirty-seven years of unremitting work Bishop Gell handed over the reins to his successor, Bishop Whitehead, and retired to Coonoor, on the Nilgiri Hills, February 15, 1899. He died March 25, 1902, in the eighty-second year of his age. He was buried in the beautiful churchyard of Coonoor, and thus a part of his desire was accomplished ; his bones rest in the diocese which was so long the object of his care as well as his prayers.
On our arrival he was unable to greet us personally, but he had not forgotten the advent of the new junior chaplain. My husband received a letter from him that was full of grace and kindness, giving evidence of the character of the man under whom he was to work.
At that time the Rev. William Weston Elwes filled the post of domestic chaplain. The bishop's gentleness ​was reflected in his chaplain ; and when later he became archdeacon and was nominated by Bishop Gell for the bishopric of Tinnevelly and Madura the choice was universally approved of. But unfortunately Archdeacon Elwes's health failed, and he was obliged to decline the offered bishopric in favour of a fellow chaplain, the Rev. S. Morley, who was nominated instead. Like his chief, Elwes died in the land where he had laboured, and his body rests in Indian soil. During his service he was assisted by a devoted wife, who allowed nothing to separate her from him. She survives him, and like Miss Gell, the bishop's sister, has retired to the Nilgiris. Mrs. Elwes tells many tales of her adventures up-country. One of these may be recorded in her own words as a warning to clergymen not to share their travelling trunks with their wives. I had it from her own lips.
'I travelled with my husband on one occasion to Palghat, when he had to visit the place as an out-station. As we were only going for a few days we shared a portmanteau together. We arrived on Saturday evening at a friend's house ; and I left my husband to unpack his own things. He put aside his vestments ready to hand when he should start in the morning for the church. There was a dear old lady living then, a Mrs. Tomlinson, and I went with her to church, occupying a seat next to hers. It wanted a few minutes to the hour for service, when I caught sight of my husband anxiously scanning the faces of the congregation from the vestry door. I divined that he was searching for me, and I could see by his expression that something was wrong. I hurried to the vestry and entered, closing the door behind me. Without a word and with the most pathetically distressed face he held out before my eyes a white garment, which I recognised at once as one of my own befrilled treasures of underwear. He had brought it in mistake for his ​surplice, not noticing the frillies in the semi-darkness of the cocoanut oil lamp-light by which he had unpacked the evening before.
'Horror-stricken I seized the garment, rolled it up and tucked it under my arm. Then I flew off, gasping out as I left him, " Wait ! whatever you do, wait till I return ! " The bullock-bandy driver, who had brought me to church, saw me rushing away, and asked if he should bring the coach. I said " yes," but did not wait for the bulls to be re-yoked ; my impatience to rectify the dreadful mistake was so great. As I left the church compound the absurdity of it suddenly struck me, and I laughed as I ran with helpless abandonment. I passed a member of the congregation whom I knew on the road. He stopped to ask what was the matter, and inquired if he could be of any assistance. Still gasping with laughter, I cried : "No, thanks; the bungalow is coming after me ! "I meant to say" bandy," but in my hysterical state I used the word bungalow. I pursued my way, running and shouting with laughter, leaving my friend to stare at my retreating figure in perplexed astonishment. He was convinced that for the moment I had gone completely off my head.
'I reached the house and found the right garment. Then I returned to the church as fast as the bullocks could trot. By that time I had regained my self-control, and when I arrived at the vestry door I thrust the surplice into my husband's hands with the gravity of a judge. He had been in an agony of suspense lest the right vestment should not have been forthcoming. I hastened back to my seat by dear old Mrs. Tomlinson, and presently I saw my husband enter and begin the service. Suddenly his face twitched as his eye met mine. I knew the signal. If once he gave way to it I feared that he would be upset beyond control. The anxiety being at an end, the reaction had begun, and the ludicrous side of the episode was ​presented to his mind. I returned his glance with a stony stare in which he could find neither sympathy nor response. The situation was secure and the laugh was held safely in reserve until after the service was over.
'Of course the story leaked out at Palghat and at Coimbatore, our headquarters ; and much fun was poked at my husband by the ladies, who were for ever asking him if he had designed a new-shaped surplice. Later we paid another visit to Palghat, and we took pains to prevent any confusion of garments this time. The vestments were carefully examined before they were carried off to the vestry, and we both satisfied ourselves that there was no mistake. For some reason or other the organist failed to turn up that morning for the service, and once more I saw my husband appear with an anxious countenance at the door of the vestry leading into the church. I went at once, and was asked to take the missing organist's place at the harmonium. I consented, and returned to my seat to fetch my books. As I came up to Mrs. Tomlinson, the dear old lady, who was very deaf, said in a loud voice which could be heard distinctly : 'Well, my dear ! What did he want? Has he got your shimmy again?' I dared not glance at the people who were seated near us, but, hastily explaining that I was wanted at the harmonium, I retreated as quickly as I could.'