The news was soon noised about Tamsui that one of the three barbarians
who had so lately visited the town had returned to make the place his
home. This was most unwelcome tidings to the heathen, and the air was
filled with mutterings and threatenings, and every one was determined to
drive the foreign devil out if at all possible. So Mackay found
himself meeting every kind of opposition. He was too independent to ask
assistance from the British consul in the old Dutch fort on the bluff,
or of any other European settlers in Tamsui. He was bound to make
his own way. But it was not easy to do so in view of the forces which
opposed him. He had now been in Formosa about two months and had studied
the Chinese language every waking hour, but it was very difficult, and
he found his usually ready tongue wofully handicapped.
His first concern was to get a dwelling-place, and he went from house to
house inquiring for some place to rent. Everywhere he went he was turned
away with rough abuse, and occasionally the dogs were set upon him.
But at last he was successful. Up on the bank of the river, a little way
from the edge of the town, he found a place which the owner condescended
to rent. It was a miserable little hut, half house, half cellar,
built into the side of the hill facing the river. A military officer had
intended it for his horse-stable, and yet Mackay paid for this hovel the
sum of fifteen dollars a month. It had three rooms, one without a floor.
The road ran past the door, and a few feet beyond was the river. By
spending money rather liberally he managed to hire the coolie who had
accompanied him to south Formosa. With his servant's help Mackay had his
new establishment thoroughly cleaned and whitewashed, and then he moved
in his furniture. He laughed as he called it furniture, for it consisted
of but two packing boxes full of books and clothing. But more came
later. The British consul, Mr. Frater, lent him a chair and a bed. There
was one old Chinese, who kept a shop near by, and who seemed inclined to
be friendly to the queer barbarian with the black beard. He presented
him with an old pewter lamp, and the house was furnished complete.
Mackay sat down at his one table, the first night after he was settled.
The damp air was hot and heavy, and swarms of tormenting mosquitoes
filled the room. Through the open door came the murmur of the river, and
from far down in the village the sounds of harsh, clamorous voices. He
was alone, many, many miles from home and friends. Around him on every
side were bitter enemies.
One might have supposed he would be overcome at the thought of the
stupendous task before him, but whoever supposed that did not know
George Mackay. He lighted his pewter lamp, opened his diary, and these
are the words he wrote:
"Here I am in this house, having been led all the way from the old
homestead in Zorra by Jesus, as direct as though my boxes were labeled,
`Tamsui, Formosa, China.' Oh, the glorious privilege to lay the
foundation of Christ's Church in unbroken heathenism! God help me to
do this with the open Bible! Again I swear allegiance to thee, O King
Jesus, my Captain. So help me God!"
And now his first duty was to learn the Chinese language. He could
already speak a little, but it would be a long time, he knew, before he
could preach. And yet, how was he to learn? he asked himself. He was
a scholar without a teacher or school. But there was his servant, and
nothing daunted by the difficulties to be overcome, he set to work to
make him his teacher also.
George Mackay always went at any task with all his might and main, and
he attacked the Chinese language in the same manner. He found it a hard
stone to break, however. "Of all earthly things I know of," he remarked
once, "it is the most intricate and difficult to master."
His unwilling teacher was just about as hard to manage as his task, for
the coolie did not take kindly to giving lessons. He certainly had a
rather hard time. Day and night his master deluged him with questions.
He made him repeat phrases again and again until his pupil could say
them correctly. He asked him the name of everything inside the house and
out, until the easy-going Oriental was overcome with dismay. This wild
barbarian, with the fiery eyes and the black beard, was a terrible
creature who gave one no rest night nor day. Sometimes after Mackay had
spent hours with him, imitating sounds and repeating the names of
things over and over, his harassed teacher would back out of the room
stealthily, keeping an anxious eye on his master, and showing plainly he
had grave fears that the foreigner had gone quite mad.
Mackay realized that the pace was too hard for his servant, and that the
poor fellow was in a fair way to lose what little wits he had, if not
left alone occasionally. So one day he wandered out along the riverbank,
in search of some one who would talk with him. He turned into a path
that led up the hill behind the town. He was in hopes he might meet a
farmer who would be friendly.
When he reached the top of the bluff he found a grassy common stretching
back toward the rice-fields. Here and there over these downs strayed the
queer-looking water-buffaloes. Some of them were plunged deep in pools
of water, and lay there like pigs with only their noses out.
He heard a merry laugh and shout from another part of the common, and
there sat a crowd of frolicsome Chinese boys, in large sun hats, and
short loose trousers. There were about a dozen of them, and they were
supposed to be herding the water-buffaloes to keep them out of the
unfenced fields. But, boylike, they were flying kites, and letting their
huge-horned charges herd themselves.
Mackay walked over toward them. It was not so long since he had been a
boy himself, and these jolly lads appealed to him. But the moment one
caught sight of the stranger, he gave a shout of alarm. The rest jumped
up, and with yells of terror and cries of "Here's the foreign devil!"
"Run, or the foreign devil will get you!" away they went helter-skelter,
their big hats waving, their loose clothes flapping wildly. They all
disappeared like magic behind a big boulder, and the cause of their
terror had to walk away.
But the next day, when his servant once more showed signs of mental
exhaustion, he strolled out again upon the downs. The boys were there
and saw him coming. Though they did not actually run away this time,
they retired to a safe distance, and stood ready to fly at any sign of
the barbarian's approach. They watched him wonderingly. They noticed his
strange white face, his black beard, his hair cut off quite short, his
amazing hat, and his ridiculous clothes. And when at last he walked
away, and all danger was over, they burst into shouts of laughter.
The next day, as they scampered about the common, here again came
the absurd-looking stranger, walking slowly, as though careful not to
frighten them. The boys did not run away this time, and to their utter
astonishment he spoke to them. Mackay had practised carefully the words
he was to say to them, and the well-spoken Chinese astounded the lads
as much as if one of the monkeys that gamboled about the trees of their
forests should come down and say, "How do you do, boys?"
"Why, he speaks our words!" they all cried at once.
As they stood staring, Mackay took out his watch and held it up for them
to see. It glittered in the sun, and at the sight of it and the kind
smiling face above, they lost their fears and crowded around him. They
examined the watch in great wonder. They handled his clothes, exclaimed
over the buttons on his coat, and inquired what they were for. They felt
his hands and his fingers, and finally decided that, in spite of his
queer looks, he was after all a man.
From that day the young missionary and the herd-boys were great friends.
Every day he joined them in the buffalo pasture, and would spend from
four to five hours with them. And as they were very willing to talk,
he not only learned their language rapidly, but also learned much about
their homes, their schools, their customs, and their religion.
One day, after a lengthy lesson from his servant, the latter decided
that the barbarian was unbearable, and bundling up his clothes he
marched off, without so much as "by your leave." So Mackay fell back
entirely upon his little teachers on the common. With their assistance
in the daytime and his Chinese-English dictionary at night, he made
wonderful progress.
He was left alone now, to get his own meals and keep the swarms of flies
and the damp mold out of his hut by the riverside. He soon learned to
eat rice and water-buffalo meat, but he missed the milk and butter and
cheese of his old Canadian home. For he discovered that cows were never
milked in Formosa. There was variety of food, however, as almost every
kind of vegetable that he had ever tasted and many new kinds that he
found delicious were for sale in the open-fronted shops in the village.
Then the fruits! They were fresh at all seasons--oranges the whole year,
bananas fresh from the fields--and such pineapples! He realized that he
had never really tasted pineapples before.
Meanwhile, he was becoming acquainted. All the families of the herd-boys
learned to like him, and when others came to know him they treated him
with respect. He was a teacher, they learned, and in China a teacher is
always looked upon with something like reverence. And, besides, he had
a beard. This appendage was considered very honorable among Chinese, so
the black-bearded barbarian was respected because of this.
But there was one class that treated him with the greatest scorn. These
were the Chinese scholars. They were the literati, and were like princes
in the land. They despised every one who was not a graduate of their
schools, and most of all they despised this barbarian who dared to set
himself up as a teacher. Mackay had now learned Chinese well enough
to preach, and his sermons aroused the indignation of these proud
graduates.
Sometimes when one was passing the little hut by the river, he would
drop in, and glance around just to see what sort of place the barbarian
kept. He would pick up the Bible and other books, throw them on the
floor, and with words of contempt strut proudly out.
Mackay endured this treatment patiently, but he set himself to study
their books, for he felt sure that the day was not far distant when he
must meet these conceited literati in argument.
He went about a good deal now. The Tamsui people became accustomed to
him, and he was not troubled much. His bright eyes were always wide open
and he learned much of the lives of the people he had come to teach.
Among the poor he found a poverty of which he had never dreamed. They
could live upon what a so-called poor family in Canada would throw away.
Nothing was wasted in China. He often saw the meat and fruit tins he
threw away when they were emptied, reappearing in the market-place. He
learned that these poorer people suffered cruel wrongs at the hands
of their magistrates. He visited a yamen, or court-house, and saw the
mandarin "dispense justice," but his judgment was said to be always given
in favor of the one who paid him the highest bribe. He saw the widow
robbed, and the innocent suffering frightful tortures, and sometimes
he strode home to his little hut by the river, his blood tingling with
righteous indignation. And then he would pray with all his soul:
"O God, give me power to teach these people of thy love through Jesus
Christ!"
But of all the horrors of heathenism, and there were many, he found the
religion the most dreadful. He had read about it when on board ship, but
he found it was infinitely worse when written in men's lives than when
set down in print. He never realized what a blessing was the religion of
Jesus Christ to a nation until he lived among a people who did not know
Him.
He found almost as much difficulty in learning the Chinese religion as
the Chinese language. After he had spent days trying to understand it,
it would seem to him like some horrible nightmare filled with wicked
devils and no less wicked gods and evil spirits and ugly idols. And to
make matters worse there was not one religion, but a bewildering mixture
of three. First of all there was the ancient Chinese religion, called
Confucianism. Confucius, a wise man of China, who lived ages before, had
laid down some rules of conduct, and had been worshiped ever since.
Very good rules they were as far as they went, and if the Chinese had
followed this wise man they would not have drifted so far from the
truth. But Confucianism meant ancestor-worship. In every home was a
little tablet with the names of the family's ancestors upon it, and
every one in the house worshiped the spirits of those departed. With
this was another religion called Taoism. This taught belief in wicked
demons who lurked about people ready to do them some ill. Then,
years and years before, some people from India had brought over their
religion, Buddhism, which had become a system of idol-worship. These
three religions were so mixed up that the people themselves were not
able to distinguish between them. The names of their idols would cover
pages, and an account of their religion would fill volumes. The more
Mackay learned of it, the more he yearned to tell the people of the one
God who was Lord and Father of them all.
As soon as he had learned to write clearly, he bought a large sheet of
paper, and printed on it the ten commandments in Chinese characters.
Then he hung it on the outside of his door. People who passed read it
and made comments of various kinds. Several threw mud at it, and at
last a proud graduate, who came striding past his silk robes rustling
grandly, caught the paper and tore it down. Mackay promptly put up
another. It shared the fate of the first. Then he put up a third, and
the people let it alone. Even these heathen Chinese were beginning to
get an impression of the dauntless determination of the man with whom
they were to get much better acquainted.
And all this time, while he was studying and working and arguing with
the heathen and preaching to them, the young missionary was working just
as hard at something else; something into which he was putting as much
energy and force as he did into learning the Chinese language. With
all his might and main, day and night, he was praying--praying for one
special object. He had been praying for this long before he saw Formosa.
He was pleading with God to give him, as his first convert, a young
man of education. And so he was always on the lookout for such, as he
preached and taught, and never once did he cease praying that he might
find him.
One forenoon he was sitting at his books, near the open door, when a
visitor stopped before him. It was a fine-looking young man, well
dressed and with all the unmistakable signs of the scholar. He had none
of the graduate's proud insolence, however, for when Mackay arose, he
spoke in the most gentlemanly manner. At the missionary's invitation
he entered, and sat down, and the two chatted pleasantly. The visitor
seemed interested in the foreigner, and asked him many questions that
showed a bright, intelligent mind. When he arose to go, Mackay invited
him to come again, and he promised he would. He left his card, a strip
of pink paper about three inches by six; the name on it read Giam
Cheng Hoa. Mackay was very much interested in him, he was so bright,
so affable, and such pleasant company. He waited anxiously to see if he
would return.
At the appointed hour the visitor was at the door, and the missionary
welcomed him warmly. The second visit was even more pleasant than the
first. And Mackay told his guest why he had come to Formosa, and of
Jesus Christ who was both God and man and who had come to the earth to
save mankind.
The young man's bright eyes were fixed steadily upon the missionary as
he talked, and when he went away his face was very thoughtful. Mackay
sat thinking about him long after he had left.
He had met many graduates, but none had impressed him as had this youth,
with his frank face and his kind, genial manner. There was something
too about the young fellow, he felt, that marked him as superior to his
companions. And then a sudden divine inspiration flashed into the lonely
young missionary's heart. THIS WAS HIS MAN! This was the man for whom he
had been praying. The stranger had as yet shown no sign of conversion,
but Mackay could not get away from that inspired thought. And that night
he could not sleep for joy.
In a day or two the young man returned. With him was a noted graduate,
who asked many questions about the new religion. The next day he came
again with six graduates, who argued and discussed.
When they were gone Mackay paced up and down the room and faced the
serious situation which he realized he was in. He saw plainly that the
educated men of the town were banded together to beat him in argument.
And with all his energy and desperate determination he set to work to be
ready for them.
His first task was to gain a thorough knowledge of the Chinese
religions. He had already learned much about them, both from books on
shipboard and since he had come to the island. But now he spent long
hours of the night, poring over the books of Confucianism, Buddhism,
and Taoism, by the light of his smoky little pewter lamp. And before
the next visit of his enemies he knew almost more of their jumble of
religions than they did themselves.
It was well he was prepared, for his opponents came down upon him in
full force. Every day a band of college graduates, always headed by Giam
Cheng Hoa, came up from the town to the missionary's little hut by
the river, and for hours they would sit arguing and talking. They were
always the most noted scholars the place could produce, but in spite of
all their cleverness the barbarian teacher silenced them every time. He
fairly took the wind out of their sails by showing he knew quite as
much about Chinese religions as they did. If they quoted Confucius to
contradict the Bible, he would quote Confucius to contradict them.
He confounded them by proving that they were not really followers of
Confucius, for they did not keep his sayings. And with unanswerable
arguments he went on to show that the religion taught by Jesus Christ
was the one and only religion to make man good and noble.
Each day the group of visitors grew larger, and at last one morning, as
Mackay looked out of his door, he saw quite a crowd approaching. They
were led, as usual, by the friendly young scholar. By his side walked,
or rather, swaggered a man of whom the missionary had often heard. He
was a scholar of high degree and was famed all over Formosa for his
great learning. Behind him came about twenty men, and Mackay could see
by their dress and appearance that they were all literary graduates.
They were coming in great force this time, to crush the barbarian
with their combined knowledge. He met them at the door with his usual
politeness and hospitality. He was always courteous to these proud
literati, but he always treated them as equals, and showed none of the
deference they felt he owed them. The crowd seated itself on improvised
benches and the argument opened.
This time Mackay led the attack. He carried the war right into the
enemy's camp. Instead of letting them put questions to him, he asked
them question after question concerning Confucianism, Buddhism, and
Taoism. They were questions that sometimes they could not answer, and
to their chagrin they had to hear "the barbarian" answer for them. There
were other questions, still more humiliating, which, when they answered,
only served to show their religion as false and degrading. Their
spokesman, the great learned man, became at last so entangled that there
was nothing for him but flight. He arose and stalked angrily away, and
in a little while they all left. Mackay looked wistfully at young Giam
as he went out, wondering what effect these words had upon him.
He was not left long in doubt. Not half an hour after a shadow fell
across the open Bible the missionary was studying. He glanced up. There
he stood! His bright face was very serious. He looked gravely at the
other young man, and his eyes shone as he spoke.
"I brought all those graduates and teachers here," he confessed, "to
silence you or be silenced. And now I am convinced that the doctrines
you teach are true. I am determined to become a Christian, even though I
suffer death for it."
Mackay rose from his seat, his face alight with an overwhelming joy. The
man he had prayed for! He took the young fellow's hand--speechless. And
together the only missionary of north Formosa and his first convert fell
upon their knees before the true God and poured out their hearts in joy
and thanksgiving.