that appeal unto Cæsar. In it I referred to the sanction of the Siamese
government to the establishment of the mission, given after the
interview with Prince Kāwilōrot at Wat Chêng, and subsequently renewed
on the appointment of his successor, Prince Intanon. I was very careful
not only to exonerate the latter from all blame, but also highly to
commend both him and his Princess for their uniform kindness, and for
their sympathy in this particular emergency. But the act of the Chao
Uparāt was, no doubt, only the beginning of what he would do if he were
not restrained. It was evidently his intention to reduce to slavery a
family that had always been free. In behalf of his loyal Christian
subjects we begged His Majesty to guarantee to them the same privileges,
civil and religious, which his other subjects enjoyed, among which
surely was the right to be married according to the ceremony of their
own religion. One request I put in with some misgiving—that the
Christians might be exempted from compulsory work on the Sabbath;
otherwise that point might always be used to create difficulty when the
master was hostile. While thus making our appeal to man, importunate
prayer was continually offered to Him who had been our help in times
past.
It was very necessary that the appeal should go as the joint action of
the mission as then constituted. I was aware that Dr. Cheek, the only
other member of the mission then on the ground, did not enter heartily
into the appeal. He was fearful that it would only make bad worse; that
it would give offence to the Lāo rulers, and possibly to the Siamese as
well. But as regards the Lāo, matters had already reached an extremity
in the case of the one who really ruled the country. And as to the
Siamese, our only human hope was in the King. So, when my paper was
finished, I took it to Dr. Cheek, and read it over to him. He listened
very attentively to the reading, and at its close I was delighted to
hear him say, “That seems all right.” After a few clerical alterations
which he suggested, we both signed the paper. A summary of it was read
to the Commissioner, and was afterwards enclosed by him with his
despatches. Our appeal to the King of Siam had, of course, to be made
through the United States Consul, Colonel Sickels. Our letter to the
King was, therefore, sent unsealed under cover to the Consul, so that he
might read it; and with it went a letter giving him a full account of
all the particulars of the case, and urging him to use his influence,
both personal and official, on our behalf. The whole was entrusted to a
special messenger in a swift boat, with instructions to make all
possible speed.
Having done our best, we waited prayerfully and hopefully. But the
greatness of the issue involved made us anxious. The liberal policy of
the young King was not then so well known as it became later. One could
not be absolutely certain how even our Consul would regard it. We
trusted, however, to the friendship of the Foreign Minister, who had
invited me to Pechaburī, and who had always been our true friend. No one
of all these persons concerned disappointed our expectations, or even
our hopes.
Colonel Sickels acted with commendable despatch. He was favoured in
securing an audience without the usual formalities. At that time His
Majesty had a regular day each week when his subjects and others might
approach him informally in his summer garden with petitions on urgent
business. Our appeal was presented to him there. He was already aware of
its nature through the Commissioner’s despatches. Anxiety with regard to
the political situation in the North no doubt prompted him to a decisive
assertion of authority in this matter as well. His Majesty informed the
Consul that his government had already reached a decision favourable to
our request, and that full religious toleration was to be proclaimed.
The courier returned with unwonted speed, reaching Chiengmai on Sunday,
September 29th. Late in the afternoon of that day the Commissioner
notified me of the arrival of despatches. Next morning I called upon
him. He was radiant with joy. All his own requests had been granted, and
enlarged powers had been given him, including power to make proclamation
of religious toleration in all the Lāo states. He seemed as much
delighted with our success as with his own. He said that he had already
notified the princes and officials to call in the afternoon, and he
would then inform them of the result. Of course, our hearts were
overflowing with gratitude.
At the appointed hour the Prince, the Chao Uparāt, and all the high
officials were assembled. When the order for the proclamation was made
known, some of them made a final personal appeal to him to stay
proceedings. They argued that unrestricted permission to become
Christians would be the ruin of the country. To understand the force of
this objection it must be remembered that among the Lāo, breach of the
Seventh Commandment was punished, not by civil or criminal procedure,
but by a “spirit-fine” paid to the patriarch of the woman’s family. It
was argued that if Christian young men should transgress with Lāo girls
or women, under the new régime, no fine could be imposed, and there
would be no redress whatever. The Commissioner then sent a messenger,
asking me to come to the audience. The scene, as I entered, reminded me
of that other notable audience with Prince Kāwilōrot and another
Commissioner. The Commissioner stated their objection, and asked me what
I had to say. I replied that the difficulty was purely an imaginary one.
In the first place, it was a cardinal doctrine of the church to forbid
such sins. In the second place, if a professed Christian violated his
vows, he made himself amenable to the discipline of the church, and so
put himself beyond its protection. The Commissioner said, “I have
already so answered, but I wanted those who are present to hear it from
the teacher himself.” To this no reply was made. After a short pause the
Commissioner broke the silence. With a gesture to the audience, he said
that the business was ended. When he had leisure, the Edict would be
issued. One after another the assembled princes and officials retired.
On my way home I noticed that the Chao Uparāt had stopped at his little
sālā beside the river, the same that Nān Inta had been set to watch. To
show that I had no personal grudge, I stopped to call on him. Rising, he
gave me a more respectful welcome than usual, and ordered a foreign rug
to be spread—the respectful way of receiving guests before the day of
chairs. When I was seated he asked why I had made complaint against him
to Bangkok—he was very sore at heart about it. I replied that I was
sorry, indeed, to be obliged to do it. Did he not remember how I had
told him that we could not submit to his decision; how I had even
entreated him not to force us to appeal to the King? And I could not
appeal without giving the facts as my ground for so doing. But now I
hoped that bygones might be bygones, and that we might be friends.—The
fact was that my letter had been translated in Bangkok, sent back to
Chiengmai, and had been read at the audience before my arrival. But I
never before had such a reception from the Uparāt.
The wording of the proclamation was left to the Commissioner. If he had
been hostile, or even indifferent, its effect might easily have been
neutralized by a little vagueness or ambiguity. But he was anxious to
have the matter settled decisively. When I took my leave of him that
morning, he promised to show me the draft of the proclamation before he
should affix his seal. When I saw it, there were only a few verbal
changes to suggest. It was a general permission to the Lāo to adopt any
religion they pleased. I suggested that since it was specifically
granted in the interest of Christians, it was desirable that
Christianity be specifically named—which was done. At my request two
extra copies of the proclamation were made with the official seals
attached; one for deposit in our safe, and one that might be read to the
people. The following is a literal translation of this famous document:
I Prayā Tēp Worachun, Representative of His Majesty the Supreme
King of Siam in Chiengmai, Lampūn, and Lakawn, hereby make
proclamation to the Princes, Rulers, and Officers of various
grades, and to the common people in the cities and provinces
named:—That His Majesty the King of Siam has been graciously
pleased to send me a Royal Letter under the Royal Seal, to the
effect that D. B. Sickels, Esqr., United States Consul, had
communicated to the Foreign Minister of Siam a complaint signed
by Rev. D. McGilvary and Dr. M. A. Cheek against certain parties
for molesting the Christians and compelling them to observe
their old religious customs. The Foreign Minister laid the
subject before His Majesty, who most graciously listened to the
said complaint, and gave the following Royal Command in
reference to the same:—
That religious and civil duties do not come in conflict. That
whoever wishes to embrace any religion after seeing that it is
true and proper to be embraced, is allowed to do so without any
restriction. That the responsibility for a right or a wrong
choice rests on the individual making the choice. That there is
nothing in the laws and customs of Siam, nor in its foreign
treaties, to throw any restriction on the religious worship and
service of any one.
To be more specific:—If any person or persons wish to embrace
the Christian Religion, they are freely permitted to follow
their own choice.
This Proclamation is to certify that from this time forth all
persons are permitted to follow the dictates of their own
conscience in all matters of religious belief and practice.
It is moreover strictly enjoined on Princes and Rulers, and on
relatives and friends of those who wish to become Christians,
that they throw no obstacles in their way, and that no one
enforce any creed or work which their religion forbids them to
hold or to do—such as the worship and feasting of demons, and
working on the Sabbath day, except in the case of war and other
great unavoidable works, which, however, must not be a mere
pretence, but really important. Be it further observed that they
are to have free and unobstructed observance of the Sabbath day.
And no obstacle is to be thrown in the way of American citizens
employing such persons as they may need, since such would be a
breach of the treaty between the two countries.
Whenever this Proclamation is made known to the Princes and
Rulers and Officers and People, they are to beware and violate
no precept contained therein.
Proclamation made on the Thirteenth Day of the Eleventh waxing
Moon, in the Eleventh Year of His Majesty’s Reign, October the
Eighth, Eighteen Hundred and Seventy-Eight.
The Edict furnishes a second natural division in the history of the Lāo
mission. Its first period was one of struggle for its very existence,
culminating in positive prohibition to preach the gospel and virtual
expulsion of the missionaries. That situation was abruptly brought to an
end by the death of Prince Kāwilōrot and the appointment of his
son-in-law, Prince Intanon. In our second period of struggle, the
conclusion of which we have just witnessed, the conditions were in many
respects similar to those of the first. Our chief antagonists in the two
contests were alike in their love of absolute power, in their
determination to break down all rival influences, and alike, therefore,
in their settled hostility to our work. In neither case was their
antagonism to Christianity primarily on religious grounds. But Kāwilōrot
was of much more imposing personality and figure than the Uparāt.
Within his own realm Kāwilōrot was really “Lord of Life.” He was
absolute head both of church and of state. He brooked no rival and no
contradiction in either. The highest positions in the religious
hierarchy were bestowed or withdrawn at his pleasure. His own
brothers-in-law languished in exile in Siam, because it was not thought
safe for them to return and be within his reach. At home he had
vanquished or terrified into submission all possible rivals. Even the
court of Siam seemed inspired with a wholesome fear of meddling with
him. The crime of the first Christians was the unpardonable one that
they had dared to become such against the will of Kāwilōrot. But the
time and place for such rulers had passed. Such attitude and temper
suited neither a position under superior authority, nor the policy of a
government striving to rise with the progress of the age. But he served
his purpose in the world, and Providence used him.
Of his titular successor, Prince Intanon, and of his noble wife, I have
already spoken. His real successor in the government of the land, and in
his championship of the old régime of feudal autocracy, was the Chao
Uparāt. But he had neither the commanding dignity of Kāwilōrot nor his
interesting personality;—had little, in fact, of any of his qualities
save his lodged and settled hatred of all innovation. For him we had
none of a certain kind of respect which the late Prince inspired; and we
were under no constraint of gratitude for favours. The only debt of
gratitude the mission owed him was for being, by his lawless acts, the
unwitting and unwilling cause of the proclamation of religious freedom.
But the crisis which he precipitated hastened likewise that
centralization of government which Siam was waiting for. The tendency of
the age is everywhere toward centralization. Strong central governments
are everywhere taking the place of weak and scattered ones. Chiengmai
itself and all the existing Lāo states have grown by the capture and
absorption of their weaker, though by no means insignificant,
neighbours. The authority and fear of Siam had long been felt indirectly
in preventing those petty wars in which one weak state captured and
enslaved another. That authority was now to be exerted more directly to
bring to an end the era of arbitrary, personal, autocratic rule among
its dependencies, and to establish in its place the more equal and
stable reign of law. Feudalism with its “organized anarchy” was to give
way to the Nation.
Such was the period at which we have arrived in this narrative of our
life and work in the Lāo states. It is a wonderful thing to have lived
through such a series of changes, and possibly to have been, under
Providence, the means of bringing some of them about. We work for an end
apparent to ourselves; but God’s designs are deeper and broader than
ours. “He maketh the wrath of man to praise Him.” Of nations, as well as
of individuals, is it true that
“There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.”
Among the Christians the Edict, of course, was greeted with an outburst
of joy. To Nān Inta it was like life from the dead. It was in reality
freedom from slavery. And no man made such efficient use of it as he
did. With the sealed copy of the Edict in his hand, he returned to his
village; and wherever he went he could assure the people, on the faith
of his Sovereign, that a profession of the “Jesus-religion” meant
neither the ruffian’s club nor slavery. The effects of the Edict upon
the church will be traced in its future growth as our story moves on. I
may venture, however, to anticipate so much—that within two years’ time
two of our strongest village churches were organized; one of them in Nān
Inta’s own village. Neither of these churches could have existed had not
the Uparāt’s power been abridged.
To the country, the new authority conferred on the High Commissioner at
that time has resulted in a revolution as silent and as effectual as the
change of the seasons. His new title, Pū Samret Rāchakān—he who fulfills
the King’s work—was used, I believe, for the first time in that
proclamation; and it really marked the passing of the sceptre from the
hands of the Princes of Chiengmai. The titular Chao Chīwit—Lord of
Life—was allowed to retain his title and honours during his lifetime;
but he has had no successor. The Lāo country has ceased to be either a
feudal dependency or a separate “buffer-state.” Silently—almost
imperceptibly—it has become an integral portion of the consolidated
Kingdom of Siam. Autocratic rule has everywhere ceased. And all these
changes are directly in line with the civilization of the age.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XX
SCHOOLS—THE NINE YEARS’ WANDERER
The year 1879 opened auspiciously. In March a little variety was
introduced into our secluded life by an official visit to Chiengmai of
Major Street, the British Commissioner at Maulmein. He and his party
arrived quite unexpectedly, spent a week in the city, and attended an
English service at the mission on Sunday. We met them a number of times,
both socially and at official dinners. They strengthened the position of
the Commissioner, and did us all good. But at that time we were
anxiously awaiting another arrival, in which we were more intimately
concerned. Mr. Wilson, who had been for two and a half years absent on
furlough, was daily expected, and with him were our long-looked-for
teachers for the Girls’ School.
The party was to arrive on April 9th. To please the three children and
myself, on the afternoon of the 8th we four started down the river in a
small boat to meet and welcome them. But the river was low, and we had
not yet reached them when darkness came on and we were obliged to seek
moorings. When, at last, we got ashore, we learned to our great joy that
the mission boats were moored only a few hundred yards below, in the
same bend of the river. We all walked down in the moonlight, and
presently spied their lights close at hand. The young ladies had retired
to read, but not to sleep. The meeting by moonlight at the river’s brink
was quite romantic. We talked till ten o’clock, though Mr. Wilson was so
hoarse that he could scarcely speak. At daybreak our fleet was under
way. We had a jolly breakfast together on board—our visitors at their
little table, and we on the deck. We then visited hard again until noon;
but it was two o’clock before we caught sight of the mission premises,
with the native Christians all waiting to greet the arrivals, old and
new.
The High Commissioner, a few days later, gave a dinner to the mission,
saying in the note of invitation that it was in honour of the young
ladies, for the boldness and piety that enabled them to leave their
fathers and mothers, and come so far to teach his people. When notified
of their arrival, the Princess sent down carriages and had us all up to
call on her. She was delighted to welcome the young ladies, and was
interested in the school.
* * * * *
The Siamese and the Lāo tongues are two closely related branches of the
same linguistic stock. The idiom and the great body of common words are
nearly the same in the two, differing, where they do differ, chiefly in
accent and intonation. Siamese is, of course, the speech of the ruling
race throughout the Siamese kingdom; and even at the time of which we
are speaking it was easy to foresee that the local dialect of its
northern provinces must eventually give way before it, especially for
all official and literary purposes. The chief obstacle in the way of a
speedy victory for the Siamese has been the fact that the Lāo is written
in a wholly different character. Were the two alike in this respect,
there is no doubt that the standard form of speech would take the place
of the dialectal almost without notice.
Of necessity all teaching so far attempted had been in the Siamese.
There was not a schoolbook in the Lāo character save the spelling
tables. When these had been mastered, there was no reading-book in Lāo
that could be put into the hands of the pupils; nor was there prospect
of any such being printed for years to come. On the other hand, in the
Siamese character there was a considerable Christian literature in
print, both religious and general, already available for purposes of
education. Our pupils, moreover, had all been girls; and almost no Lāo
women at that time could read writing in any character. It was,
therefore, not only much simpler, but quite as well for them on other
accounts, to learn the Siamese character from the start.
Now, however, when we were arrived at the establishment of regular
schools with a permanent organization and policy, the question could no
longer be postponed, In which language shall instruction be given? It
was not an easy question to decide. With regard to it there was
difference of opinion among the missionaries, both old and new. On the
one hand, it was urged, that since ours was a Lāo mission, the Lāo
should, of course, be the language of the schools. On the other hand
were pointed out the greater scope and availability of the Siamese, its
assured supremacy, and the dwindling future of the Lāo throughout the
territory of Siam. The matter at last was compromised by continuing the
Siamese in the Girls’ School, and adopting the Lāo for the boys.
Meantime it was desirable to have some portions of the Scriptures in the
Lāo character; and, to accomplish this, the first requisite was a font
of Lāo type. To this end, on my first furlough in 1873, I went from
North Carolina to New York, and not only spent some time, but was at
some personal expense, in the effort to secure such a font. The American
Bible Society voted a liberal sum for the purpose. But there turned out
to be some mechanical difficulties to be overcome in making and using
the type, which were beyond my skill to solve. So, lest the attempt
should fail in my hands, I gave it up. And having accomplished nothing,
I presented no bill of expense either to the Bible Society or to the
Board.
There seemed, indeed, to be some fatality attending our efforts in this
direction. Mr. Wilson, on the furlough from which he was but now
returned, had gone further. He actually succeeded in getting a font of
Lāo type. But the whole of it was lost, and never reached the
mission.[11] It was not until Dr. Peoples’ furlough in 1889 that we
succeeded in getting our present type. Meanwhile we had used the Siamese
Scriptures, with some present disadvantages, indeed, but with some
advantages as well. Some of our first Christians were attracted to our
religion by their desire to learn Siamese; and the Siamese Bible and
catechism were our textbooks. And now, under Siamese rule, knowledge of
the Siamese opens the way to promotion in the government service.
Siamese alone is taught in the government schools. Young monks are more
eager to study Siamese than their own tongue.
Footnote 11:
Mr. Wilson brought only a few specimens with him. He writes:—“The rest
of the type was to be boxed up and sent to Mr. Cutter, and the boxes
were to be put away in the store-room of the Mission Rooms at 23
Centre Street, and forwarded when called for. They must have been lost
when the Board moved from 23 Centre Street to the Lenox property, and
then to 156 Fifth Avenue.”
But the important thing, after all, was that we had a school actually
begun, and that there was teaching in _both_ dialects. It was like a new
beginning of our work under conditions more favourable than at the
first. For twelve years it had been a hard, and, sometimes, an
apparently hopeless struggle. But the history of missions affords many
similar instances with even fewer visible results. In twelve years we
had gathered forty converts into the church. Some of these were among
the most useful we have ever had in the history of the mission. It is
hard to estimate rightly the importance of work spent on the foundations
of such an enterprise. But now, with that church organized, with the
medical work well established, the evangelistic work strengthened, and
the initial school, begun long before by Mrs. McGilvary, placed on a
permanent basis, we could write in large letters on our altar,
“Jehovah-Nissi”—Jehovah our banner.
* * * * *