Part 29

THE CLOSED DOOR

The tour of 1898 was undertaken with two special objects in view: (1) to follow up the auspicious beginnings of work among the Kamu and Lamēt tribes, the largest and most important within the mountain area explored during the previous season, and, apparently, ready as a body to accept the Gospel; and (2) to secure the sanction of the French government for continued work in French territory. I was unable to secure a missionary colleague for the tour, and therefore went accompanied only by native evangelists. I took the most direct route, crossing the Mê Kōng at Pāk Bêng, following the Bêng River to its source, and crossing by the pass at its head to Mûang Sai, the point at which the most promising work of the previous tour was begun. The journey so far occupied nearly a month’s time.

The tour was organized on notice too short to permit my passport from the United States Minister in Bangkok to reach me in Chiengmai before I started. It was, therefore, sent on direct to the French authorities at Lūang Prabāng. Meantime M. Vackle, the Commandant Supérieur, who was so kind to us the year before, had been superseded by M. Luce; and him, unfortunately, we just missed at the crossing of the Mê Kōng. He passed up in a steamer the day before we reached the river. By the time we reached Mûang Sai, M. Luce had returned to Lūang Prabāng, and had wired to the office in Mûang Sai that my passport was come, and that I was expected in Lūang Prabāng. No instructions were given regarding my work, and the authorities were in doubt what to do. Under the circumstances, the only passport they could issue was one to the capital, Lūang Prabāng.

They were not particular, however, as to the route I should take. So I chose a circuit to the northeast, leading through the mountain region to the Ū River, down which I could descend by boat to Lūang Prabāng. This would enable me to find Nān Tit, the Kamu scholar whom I met at Mûang Sai on my previous tour, and to visit with him a few Kamu villages. The extent of the work I hoped to undertake that season would depend upon the opening I found there. A passport was given me by that route, and a soldier was sent along as guide and escort.

Nān Tit, as I hoped, had read the books I gave him, had prepared the way for me by teaching the substance of them to his neighbours, and now would assist me in teaching his tribe. With him as interpreter and assistant we visited a number of contiguous villages, holding night conferences, at which the whole population of the village would be present. Everywhere a wonderfully ready response was given to the Gospel. They, too, were oppressed by the dread of spirits, and welcomed deliverance from their bondage. They would accept the Gospel, but, naturally, referred us on to the Pīa.

To his village at last we went. He was a venerable man near seventy, and though for years hopelessly crippled by paralysis of the lower limbs, his bright mind and business talents had raised him to his present position, and given him a commanding influence. I shall never forget our first interview. He had heard the rumour that our religion could overcome the spirits and save from sin. Crawling painfully on his hands to meet us, he welcomed us to his village and his people. He had heard of the Jesus-religion, and wished to embrace it. Since he was old, he must do it soon. This was on Friday afternoon. By Saturday night every family in the place had made the same decision, and would begin by keeping their first Sabbath next day. Our elders entered with heart and soul into teaching them. The young folks soon learned a verse or two of “The Happy Land,” and some a verse or two in the Catechism. Next morning, before I was dressed, old and young of both sexes were gathering to learn how to keep the Sabbath. It was a great day, just the like of which I had never seen. It settled the decision of hundreds, possibly of thousands, of people.

Still, everything depended upon the French authorities. They could forbid our teaching, as, in fact, they afterwards did. But up to this point I could not believe that they would. A prompt and candid interview seemed all that would be necessary to settle that matter, and make the Kamus feel safe. If such an opening were found, I had determined to remain with them throughout the season. But in that case my family and the mission must be informed. More medicine and books and some comforts would be required to carry me through. It was, therefore, decided to move on a day’s journey to Mûang Lā, a convenient point, leave there two elders to instruct the people, and send back three carriers to Chiengmai for the needed supplies and another elder; while I went on overland to Mûang Kwā, and there took boat down the Ū River.

The mountain scenery along this river is very beautiful, especially so near its junction with the Mê Kōng. We reached Lūang Prabāng on Monday, May 9th, and called at once on M. Grant, who was so kind to us the year before. He gave me a greeting as warm as ever. The king was having an interview with M. Luce that day, so I could not see him till Tuesday. I dined that night with M. Grant, he himself coming at dusk to walk over with me. We had a delightful evening. There had been a regular exodus of Kamus that year to Chiengmai and other southern provinces. M. Grant asked if I had heard any reason assigned for it. I told him that I had heard of three—the dearness of rice, owing to the failure of the last crop; the exhaustion of the mountain lands, and the lack of remunerative employment by which they could earn the money required to pay their taxes.

On Tuesday afternoon the Commandant Supérieur sent his secretary to invite me to an interview. He, too, gave me a cordial greeting. He had received my passport together with a letter of introduction from the Consul Général in Bangkok. I had also a kind personal letter from our United States Minister, Mr. John Barrett. He had used his personal influence, and assured me that it would all be right. My interview was very pleasant. M. Luce enquired about our mission work, the number of our converts, and other similar matters. He then referred to the large emigration of Kamus; asked if I had heard of any reason for it, and how many of our three thousand converts were Kamus. He was much surprised to learn that the converts were almost entirely Lāo, with not a half dozen Kamus among them. Putting his anxiety about the emigration and our work among these people together, it seemed to me later that he must have thought the movement a religious one.

When, at last, I stated my special errand to the city, namely, that a number of villages in his province were interested in our religion, that I wished to teach them further, and that, since they were French subjects, I thought it proper to inform him and secure his sanction, he thanked me for doing so, but his manner at once changed. He said he should have to consult the king about that; the mountain people were hard to teach; the country was unhealthy; the Catholic missionaries in the south were leaving, or had left; the king would fear that the Kamus would become disloyal to him if they became Christians. To this I replied that the native officials had uniformly granted us permission to teach among their subjects; that they realized that it was a benefit to their country, and even gave us their assistance; and that it was the fixed policy of our mission to teach Christians loyalty to their rulers. M. Luce said he would consult with the king, and would let me know the decision. I expressed my wish to pay my respects to the king, which he said was a very proper thing, and, on my leaving, he gave me a cordial invitation to dine with him that night.

Next day, through M. Grant, I secured a very pleasant interview with the king. My long residence in the country and acquaintance with both Siamese and Lāo officials, gave us much common ground for conversation. He was pleased that I had known their Majesties, the present King of Siam and his father, his former liege-lords. Quite in line with native ideas, he thought I must be a man of great merit to be so old and yet so strong. I explained at his request the teaching of our religion, pointing out some of its distinctive differences from Buddhism, in all of which things he was interested. He said that it was all very good, but he was born and reared in the Buddhist worship, and was too old to change. Gradually introducing my errand, I told him of my interest in the Kamus, and of their desire to become Christians; that I had come down to get permission to work among them. We taught them a better morality, of which loyalty to rulers was a fundamental article, enjoined by Jesus on His disciples. He raised the objection that the Kamus were ignorant, and we would find them harder to teach than the Lāo. To this I replied that these villagers had become believers, and I was going to spend several months in teaching them. He asked if I did not think I was running great risk in living so long in the forest, and so far away from home. “Well,” said I, “I am used to life in the forest and jungle, and you can see for yourself how I have fared.” At which he smiled, and made no further objection. I left with the firm conviction that if M. Luce were not unwilling, there would be no difficulty with him.

While at dinner that night, I informed M. Luce of my pleasant audience with the king; how I told him my plans, and he had virtually given his consent. “Is that so?” said he. “I must see the king myself about that.” And as I took my leave, he said again, “I will see the king to-morrow, and will let you know the result.”

The next afternoon, Thursday, M. Luce had a long interview at the Prince’s residence. On Friday afternoon I called on M. Grant on my way to the Commandant’s office. He told me that M. Luce wished to see me, but had instructed him to notify me that the king did not understand that I was to spend several months among the Kamus—though he certainly did, or why should he have raised the question of my health? I reminded M. Grant that my passport was not to the king, but to the French authorities. All the world recognized the country as French territory. It would have been considered a discourtesy to the French if the representative of the United States had sent a letter to the Lāo king as such. He admitted that in a limited sense this was true; but they did not treat the king as a conquered vassal. Cochin China had fought the French, and had been conquered and annexed. But Lūang Prabāng had put itself under their protection without firing a gun. M. Grant delivered his message with as much consideration toward my disappointment as was consistent with loyalty to his superior. But my disappointment I could not conceal.

M. Luce, I was informed, was very busy that day, but would be glad to see me on Saturday afternoon. The decision, however, was irreversible. Further pressure would be useless, and might be unwise. In that case, I said, of course I must submit. I had shown proper respect for the ruling authority, and my own desire to avoid future misunderstanding, by making the long and costly journey to Lūang Prabāng. My errand was now ended. I would take my leave at once, and return next morning.

This being reported to M. Luce, he sent word that he must see me before I left. I might come immediately. Personally, again, he was very kind, but made a studied effort to put the responsibility upon the king, who, as he said, had not understood that I wished to make a long stay among the Kamus, which he thought was unsafe for me. Of course, I had no complaint to make of the king, who had been most gracious. I submitted to their decision, and would return home. But my arrangements required my return to the Kamu villages, where I had left my men and my goods, and would be detained there till my messengers should return from Chiengmai—which, he said, was all right. Since the responsibility had been put on the king, and the adverse decision had been based solely on the danger to my personal health and safety, I thought it unwise to raise the question of native assistants, and so felt free to leave these on the ground to teach the new believers, as, indeed, I felt under obligation to do.

Thanking M. Luce for all his personal kindness, I begged to take my leave of him then, so that I might start on my return the next morning. But he evidently was not satisfied with his own part in the matter, and wished to make some personal amends to soothe my disappointment. He hoped I would not leave in the morning, but would remain till Monday, and give him the pleasure of a dinner with me and M. Grant on Sunday night. I hoped he would still excuse me, since, if I remained, that would be our time for public worship. “Then,” said he, “we shall be pleased to have you on Saturday night; and if you are not ready now to give an affirmative reply, I hope you will so arrange it as to notify my secretary in the morning.” Notwithstanding his evident disingenuousness in trying to shift the responsibility for his own acts to another, there was no reason for making it a personal matter; and it would be impolitic to leave apparently angry. So I decided to remain till Monday, and accepted the invitation for Saturday night.

I feared there would be great constraint on both sides at the dinner; but in this I was agreeably disappointed. That very day a long telegram had arrived, reporting the declaration of war with Spain, and the particulars of the great naval victory of Manila Bay. On my arrival at his house, M. Luce handed me a full translation of these into English, which he had had made for me. They were much surprised at the victory, for they thought the Spanish navy much larger and stronger than ours; and they were high in their praise of the victors. We really had a delightful time. After dinner our host and M. Grant both laid themselves out to show me beautiful maps and pictures. M. Luce invited me to call on Monday morning, and he would send a long telegram to my wife without charge. This he did, and we all parted friends. The departure on the 16th, my seventieth birthday, was not as joyful as I had hoped.

On my return to Mûang Sai, I found that my carriers had been delayed by sore feet and sickness. I could not leave till they came, for fear of missing them and causing further complications. So my long trip home was thrown into the middle of a very rainy season. I had to apologize as best I could to the new converts for the change in my plan to remain with them. But they were glad to have our elders stay and teach them. If that shady tree on the little hill at Mûang Sai could speak, it would tell of much anxious prayer on leaving the Christians and starting on the long journey before me. My Ebenezer was left on that tree.

That journey was altogether the worst I ever had. I did not reach home till August 6th, after the longest tour I had ever taken. M. Luce’s telegram had prepared my family and friends for my changed plans.

A few lines must close the history of the work among the Kamus. In December the three evangelists returned with a most encouraging report. The converts had remained firm, and others were waiting to join them. The next season a native minister was sent to them. In 1903 the mission ventured to send two of our younger men, Dr. Campbell and Mr. Mackay. to Mûang Sai, to visit the Christians, and respond to a pressing call to extend the work. Imagine their surprise on reaching Mûang Sai to find that the local commissioner had received orders to forbid our missionaries to visit the Christian community, or to hold any religious service with them, on penalty of being conducted out of the country, by force if necessary. The command was so imperative that the Commissioner dared not disobey. He begged them for his sake to return peaceably. No effort has been made since to reach the Christians at Mûang Sai, or to extend the work.

It will be remembered that a few members of the Chieng Sên church—never more than half a dozen families—lived on the east bank of the Mê Kōng, in French territory. So objectionable was the very presence of a missionary making a few days’ visit among his flock, that it was regarded of sufficient importance to warrant an official protest from the authorities at Lūang Prabāng, sent through the Governor General of Hanoi, and the United States Minister at Bangkok. Complaint was made of a visit made by the Rev. ——, who had exhibited Scripture pictures and distributed books among the people—which was so contrary to their policy that they forbade the Roman Catholic missionaries from working in their territory. They begged that the thing be not repeated! For the credit of the French authorities I should have been glad to suppress the latter part of this story. But, on the other hand, I think it should be known, in order that it may become a burden on the prayers of the Christian world of all denominations, that God’s providence may open the whole peninsula of Indo-China to the preaching of the Gospel.

XXXV

CONCLUSION

My advancing age suggests the wisdom of not attempting to continue this personal narrative beyond the account just given of my last long missionary tour. I may venture to add, however, by way of conclusion, a few suggestions and criticisms concerning the work of our mission as a whole, and briefly notice a few of the more important personalities and events of these later years.

Special prominence has been given throughout to the evangelistic work, as being the foundation of all other missionary work. A Christian Church and a Christian constituency must be the first aim in all missions. In this we have not been unsuccessful. Our ideals, it is true, have not been realized. We have not witnessed among the Siamese or the Lāo any racial movement towards Christianity; nor have there been any great revivals resulting in large accessions to the church. Both of these we hope for in the not far distant future. Yet the uniform, healthful growth of the church, as distinguished from spasmodic or sporadic increase, has been most gratifying. Seldom does a week pass without accessions to some of our churches.

An adult membership of four thousand is a good foundation. And it must never be forgotten that the roll of church-membership is a very inadequate index of the real influence and power of a mission. In addition to a much larger constituency of adherents, there is our large roll of non-communing members, the hope of the future church. And signs of most hopeful promise have appeared within the present year. The growth of the Chieng Rāi church during that time has been surpassed only by the results of Dr. Campbell’s recent tours, amounting to eighty accessions within a few weeks. The supporters of our missions have every cause for gratitude, and a call for earnest, effectual prayer in their behalf.

A review of our evangelistic work suggests one or two criticisms. On one line at least, with a smaller amount of hard work done by the missionary himself, we might have accomplished more, might now be better prepared for advanced work, and the native church might be better able to stand alone, if we had addressed our efforts more steadily to the development and use of native assistance. While we have not had the material of well educated young men out of which to form a theological seminary and to furnish a fully equipped native ministry, we have not used, to the extent to which we should have used it, the material which was available. For a mission as old as ours, we must confess that in this most important matter we are very backward.

The delay in starting our school for boys was not our fault; it was inevitable. The Lāo rulers of the earlier years were absolutely indifferent to all education, and were positively jealous of any that was given by the mission. But as the church began to increase, we had accessions of men trained in the Buddhist priesthood. Some of these were among the best educated men in the country. They understood—as young men even from mission schools could not be expected to understand—the religion, the modes of thought, the needs of their own people, and how to reach them. Their education, however deficient, brought them many compensations. They form the class from which nearly all of our evangelists have been drawn. When such men have been drilled in the Scriptures, their Buddhistic knowledge makes them the very best men for successful work among their countrymen. They visit and sleep in the homes of their people, and are one with them. The missionary in his work must rely largely on their judgment and advice.

It must not be understood that we have not taught these men or used them. A great deal of labour has been spent in training them; very much in the same way in which in American churches, a generation ago, busy pastors trained up young men to be some of our best ministers. The criticism I make—and in it I believe all my colleagues will concur—is that we have not made as much of them as we should have done. No doubt there have been difficulties in the way. Their families must somehow be provided for during the process. The native churches were not strong enough to undertake their support. We were warned that to aid them with foreign funds would make the churches mercenary. What the missionary himself sometimes did to eke out their subsistence was irregular and difficult, and often unsatisfactory. But the labourer is worthy of his hire. Hungry mouths must be fed. The Board and the churches at home do not begrudge a thousand dollars or more to support a missionary in the field. Should they begrudge the same amount spent upon half a dozen men who will treble or quadruple the missionary’s work and his influence? In any business it is poor policy to employ a high-salaried foreman, and then not furnish him cheaper men to do that which unskilled labour can accomplish better than he.

In this matter, as in some others, we might have learned valuable lessons from our nearest missionary neighbours in Burma, even though the conditions of our work have been in many respects very different from theirs. Making all allowance for our conditions, I frankly confess that our greatest mistake has probably been in doing too much of the work ourselves, instead of training others to do it, and working through them. This conviction, however, must not in the least lead us to relax our efforts in the line of general education. For the ultimate establishment of the church, and to meet the demands of the age, we must have workmen thoroughly equipped. Till that time comes, we must, as we should more fully have done hitherto, rely on whatever good working material we find ready to hand.

* * * * *

With regard to plans and methods of work, another thought suggests itself. In a business organized as ours is, where the majority in the Annual Meeting has absolute power, it is difficult to avoid the appearance—and sometimes the reality—of a vacillating policy. New stations are established, and missionaries are located by the ballot of the mission there assembled. From year to year the personnel of the mission is constantly changing by reason of furloughs, breakdown of health, and necessary removals. We make our disposition of forces at one meeting, and at the next an entirely new disposition has become necessary. A family has been left alone without a physician or associate. Missionary enthusiasm, or an earnest minority interested in a particular field or a particular cause, may initiate a policy which a subsequent majority may be unable to sanction, or which it may be found difficult or impossible to carry out.