<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2>
<h3>"To Continue the Succession"</h3>
<div class='cap'>FOR to-morrow holds no hope for these children so far
as our power to save them to-day is concerned. It
will be remembered that we felt we could do more
for them by working quietly on our own lines than by
appealing to the law; but lately, fearing lest we were
possibly doing the law an injustice by taking it for granted
that it was powerless to help us, we carefully gathered all the
evidence we could about three typical children: one a child
in moral danger, though not in actual Temple danger;
another the adopted child of a Temple woman; the third
a Temple woman's own child: and we submitted this
evidence to a keen Indian Christian barrister, and asked
for his advice.</div>
<p>L., the first child he deals with, the little "dove in the
cage," is in charge of a woman of bad character, by the
consent and arrangement of her mother. The mother
speaks English as well as an Englishwoman, and her eldest
son is studying for his degree in a Government college.
Although Temple service is not intended, the proposed life
is such that a similar course of training as that to which
the Temple child is subjected, is now being carried on. This
is the barrister's reply to my letter:<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</SPAN></span>—</p>
<p>"I have carefully perused the statements of the probable
witnesses. L.'s mother is not a Temple woman, and the
foster-mother also is not a Temple woman. The law of
adoption relating to Temple women does not apply to
them. The foster-mother, therefore, can have no legal claim
to the child. But the mother has absolute control over
the bringing-up of the child, and it would not be possible
in the present state of the law to do anything for the child
now."</p>
<p>S. This is the little one who whispered her texts to me
in the moonlight, and whose foster-mother told her to tell
me she was being trained for the Service of the gods. She
is evidently destined to be a Temple woman. "The first
question for consideration is how the old woman is related
to her. If she is the adopted mother, or if she could successfully
plead adoption of the child, the Civil Courts will be
powerless to help. If we can get some reliable evidence that
the child has not been adopted" (this is impossible) "we
may be able to induce the British Courts to interfere on
her behalf and say she shall not be devoted to Temple
service until she attains her majority; but it would not be
possible to induce the Courts to hand the child over to the
Mission."</p>
<p>K., the little girl whose own mother is a Temple woman.
She has been taught dancing, which to our mind was conclusive
proof of her mother's intentions. To make sure we
asked the question, to which the following is the reply: "No
children of [good] Hindu parents are taught dancing. Even
the lowest caste woman thinks it beneath her dignity to
dance, excepting professional devil-dancers, who are generally
old women, mostly widows, of an hysterical temperament.
When young children of women of doubtful character are
taught dancing, it means they are going to be married to
the idol. When children of Temple women are taught<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</SPAN></span>
dancing the presumption is all the greater. But the difficulty
in the case of K. is to get one who has higher claims to
guardianship than the mother. In the case of a Temple
woman's child there is no one.</p>
<p>"It is this which makes it impossible for the well-wishers
of the children to interfere. . . . The law punishes only
the offence committed and not the intent to commit, or even
the preparation, unless it amounts to an attempt under the
Penal Code."</p>
<div class='center'><b>. . . . .</b></div>
<div class="sidenote">"We have no Right to Interfere"</div>
<p>Bluebeards are not an institution in England; but if they
were, and if one of the order were known to possess a cupboardful
of pendent heads, would Englishmen sit quiet while
he whetted his butcher's knife quite calmly on his doorstep?
Would they say as he sat there in untroubled assurance of
safety, feeling the edge of the blade with his thumb,
and muttering almost audibly the name of his intended
victim, "We have no right to interfere, he is only sharpening
his knife; an intent to commit, or even the preparation
for crime, is not punishable by law, unless it amounts to an
attempt, and he has not 'attempted' yet." Surely, if such
intent were not punishable it very soon would be. It would
be found possible—who can doubt it?—to frame a new law,
or amend the old one, so as to deal with Bluebeards. And
a Committee of Vigilance would be appointed to ensure its
effectual working.</p>
<p>Of course, the simile is absurdly inadequate, and breaks
down at several important points, and the circumstances
are vastly more difficult in India than they ever could be
in England, just because India is India; but will it not at
least be admitted that the law meant in kindness to the
innocent is fatal to our purpose?—which is to save the children
while they are still innocent.</p>
<div class='center'><b>. . . . .</b></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>We do not want to ask for anything unreasonable, but
it seems to us that the law concerning adoption requires
revision. In Mayne's <i>Hindu Law and Usage</i> it is stated
that among Temple women it is customary in Madras and
Pondicherry and in Western India to adopt girls to follow
their adopted mother's profession: and the girls so adopted
succeed to their property; no particular ceremonies are
necessary, recognition alone being sufficient. In Calcutta
and Bombay such adoptions have been held illegal, but in
the Madras Presidency they are held to be legal. In a case
where the validity of such adoption was questioned, the
Madras High Court affirmed it, and it has now, "by a series
of decisions, adopted the rule ;. . . which limits the illegality
of adoption to cases where they involve the commission of
an offence under the Criminal Code." This, as we have said,
makes it entirely impossible to save the child through the
law before her training is complete; and after it is complete
it is too late to save her. Train a child from infancy to
look upon a certain line of life as the one and only line for
her, make the prospect attractive, and surround her with
every possible unholy influence; in short, bend the twig and
keep it bent for the greater part of sixteen years, or even
only six—is there much room for doubt as to how it will
grow? An heir to the property may be required; but with
the facts of life before us, can we be content to allow the
adoption of a child by a Temple woman to be so legalised
that even if it can be proved to a moral certainty that
her intention is to "continue the succession," nothing can
be done?</p>
<div class="sidenote">What we Want</div>
<p>Then as to the guardianship: again we do not want to
ask too much, but surely if it can be shown that no one
else has moved to save the child (which argues that no one
else has cared much about her salvation) we should not be
disqualified for guardianship on the sole ground that we are<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</SPAN></span>
not related? In such a case the relatives are the last people
with whom she would be safe. An order may go forth
from that nebulous and distant Impersonality, the British
Government, to the effect that a certain child is not to
be dedicated to gods during her minority. But far away
in their villages the people smile at a simplicity which can
imagine that commands can eventually affect purposes. They
may delay the fulfilment of such purpose; but India can
afford to wait.</p>
<p><i>We would have the law so amended, that whoever has
been in earnest enough about the matter to try to save the
child from destruction, should be given the right to protect
her, if in spite of the odds against him he has honestly
fought through a case and won.</i></p>
<p>"Is it not a sad thing," writes the Indian barrister—we
quote his words because they seem to us worthy of notice
at home—"that a Christian Government is unable to legislate
to save the children of Temple women? I am sorry my
opinion has made you sad. Giving my opinion as a lawyer,
I could not take an optimistic view of the matter. <i>The law
as it stands at present is against reform in matters of this
kind.</i> Even should a good judge take a strong view of the
matter, the High Court will stick to the very letter of
the law."</p>
<p>So that, as things are, it comes to this: We must stand
aside and watch the cup of poison being prepared—so openly
prepared that everyone knows for which child it is being
mixed. We must stand and wait and do nothing. We must
see the little girl led up to the cup and persuaded to taste
it. We must watch her gradually growing to like it, for
it is flavoured and sweet. We must not beckon to her before
she has drunk of it and say, "Come to us and we will tell
you what is in that cup, and keep you safely from those
who would make you drink it"; for "any attempt to induce<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</SPAN></span>
the child to come to you, or any assistance given to help
her to escape to you, would render you liable to prosecution
for kidnapping—a criminal offence under the Penal Code."
Any one of us would gladly go to prison if it would save
the child; but the trouble is, it would not: for the law
could only return her to her lawful guardians from whose
hold we unlawfully detached her. We, not they, would be
in the wrong; they did nothing unlawful in only preparing
the cup. Does someone say that we put the case unfairly—that
the law does not forbid us to warn the child, it only
forbids us to snatch her away when the cup is merely being
offered her? But remember, in our part of India at least,
these cups are not given in public. The preparation is public
enough, the bare tasting is public too; but the cup in its
fulness is given in private, and once given, the poison works
with stealthy but startling rapidity. Warn the child before
she has drunk of it, and she does not understand you.
Warn her after she has drunk, and the poison holds her
from heeding.</p>
<p>Besides, to be very practical, what is the use of warning
if we may only warn? Suppose our one isolated word weighs
with the child against the word of mother or adopted mother,
and all who stand for home to her; suppose she says (she
would very rarely have the courage for any such proposal,
but suppose she does say it): "May I come to you? and will
you show me the way, for it is such a long way and I do not
know how to find it? I should be so frightened, alone in the
night" (the only time escape would be possible), "for I know
they would run after me, and they can run faster than I!"
What may we say to her? What may I say to the Harebell
supposing she asks me this question? She is only six, and
there are six long miles over broken country between her
home and ours. We could not find it ourselves in the dark.
But supposing she dared it all, and an angel were sent to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</SPAN></span>
guide her, have we any right to protect her? None whatever.
If there are parents, or a parent, they or she have the right
of parentage; if an adopted mother, the right of adoption.<SPAN name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</SPAN></p>
<p>We know that the law is framed to protect the good,
and the rights of parentage cannot be too carefully guarded;
but to one who has not a legal mind, but only sees a little
girl in danger of her life, and has to stand with hands tied
by a law intended to deal with totally different matters, it
seems strange that things should be so. This is not the
moment (if ever there is such a moment) to choose, for deliberate
lawlessness; but there are times when the temptation
is strong to break the law in the hope that, once broken, it
may be amended. Only those who have had to go through
it know what it is to stand and see that cup of poison being
prepared for an unsuspicious child.</p>
<div class="sidenote">Then unto Thee we Turn</div>
<p>The last sentence in the barrister's letter begins with "I
despair." The sentence is too pungent in its outspoken
candour to copy into a book which may come back to India:
"I despair": then unto Thee we turn, O Lord our God; for
now, Lord, what is our hope? truly our hope is even in Thee:
oh, help us against the enemy; for vain is the help of man.
Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Will the Lord absent
Himself for ever? O God, wherefore art Thou absent from
us for so long? Look upon the Covenant, for all the earth
is full of darkness and cruel habitations. Surely Thou hast
seen it, for Thou beholdest ungodliness and wrong. The
wicked boasteth of his heart's desire. He sitteth in the
lurking-places of the villages: in the secret places doth he
murder the innocent. He saith in his heart, "God hath
forgotten: He hideth His face; He will never see it." Arise,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</SPAN></span>
O Lord God, lift up Thine hand! Up, Lord, disappoint him,
and cast him down; deliver the children! Show Thy marvellous
lovingkindness, Thou that art the Saviour of them
which put their trust in Thee, from such as resist Thy right
hand. Thy voice is mighty in operation: the voice of the
Lord is a glorious voice. We wait for Thy lovingkindness,
O God: be merciful unto the children: O God, be merciful
unto the children, for our soul trusteth in Thee, and we call
unto the Most High God, even unto the God that shall perform
the cause which we have in hand. For Thou hast looked
down from Thy sanctuary; out of heaven did the Lord behold
the earth, that He might hear the mournings of such as are
in captivity, and deliver the children appointed to death.
Arise, O God, maintain Thine own cause! Our hope is in
Thee, Who helpeth them to right that suffer wrong. The
Lord looseth the prisoners. God is unto us a God of deliverances.
Power belongeth unto Thee. Our soul hangeth upon
Thee: Thou shalt show us wonderful things in Thy righteousness,
O God of our salvation, Thou that art the hope of all
the ends of the earth. And all men that see it shall say,
This hath God done; for they shall perceive that it is His
work. He shall deliver the children's souls from falsehood
and wrong; for God is our King of old; the help that is
done upon earth He doeth it Himself. Sure I am, the Lord
will avenge the poor, and maintain the cause of the helpless.
Why art thou so heavy, O my soul, and why art thou disquieted
within me? Oh, put thy trust in God; for I will
yet praise Him which is the help of my countenance and
my God!</p>
<p>Are there any prayers like the old psalms in their intense
sincerity? In the times when our heart is wounded within us
we turn to these ancient human cries, and we find what we
want in them.</p>
<p>Let us pray for the children of this generation being trained<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</SPAN></span>
now "to continue the succession," whom nothing less than a
Divine interposition can save. The hunters on these mountains
dig pits to ensnare the poor wild beasts, and they cover them
warily with leaves and grass: this sentence about the succession
is just such a pit, with words for leaves and grass. Let
us pray for miracles to happen where individual children are
concerned, that the little feet in their ignorance may be
hindered from running across those pits, for the fall is into
miry clay, and the sides of the pit are slippery and very
steep.</p>
<div class="sidenote">Let us Pray</div>
<p>More and more as we go on, and learn our utter inability
to move a single pebble by ourselves, and the mighty power
of God to upturn mountains with a touch, we realise how
infinitely important it is to know how to pray. There is the
restful prayer of committal to which the immediate answer
is peace. We could not live without this sort of prayer; we
should be crushed and overborne, and give up broken-hearted
if it were not for that peace. But the Apostle speaks of
another prayer that is wrestle, conflict, "agony." And if
these little children are to be delivered and protected after
their deliverance, and trained that if the Lord tarry and
life's fierce battle has to be fought—and for them it may be
very fierce—all that will be attempted against them shall
fall harmless at their feet like arrows turned to feather-down;
then some of us must be strong to meet the powers
that will combat every inch of the field with us, and some
of us must learn deeper things than we know yet about the
solemn secret of prevailing prayer.</p>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><SPAN name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></SPAN> To-day (February 16, 1912) as I go through proofs of the second edition,
I hear by post of a young girl in a distant city who lately escaped to a missionary,
and asked for what he could not give her—protection. She had to return to her
own home. In her despair, she drowned herself.</p>
</div>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</SPAN></span></p>
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