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.
Again, as between the policy of maintaining one strong central station,
and that of maintaining several smaller ones in different parts of the
country, it is often difficult to decide. With the aim originally of
establishing the Gospel in all the states under Siamese rule, we seem to
have been led to adopt the latter policy. Through God’s blessing on
evangelistic tours, in Lampūn and in the frontier provinces of the
north, there grew up churches which called for missionary oversight. The
famine in Prê summoned us thither; and to secure the work then done, a
missionary in residence was needed. Though no church had been formed in
Nān, yet our tours had opened the way to one, and the importance of the
province and its distance from our centre demanded a station. In every
case these stations were opened with the cordial approval of the mission
and of the Board at home. Yet it has been difficult to keep them all
manned, as has been specially true in the case of Prê—and there to the
great detriment of the work. It is easy to say now that a strong central
policy might have been better. And that criticism would probably hit me
harder than anyone else, for I have sanctioned the establishment of
every one of those stations. It is possible that a more centralized
organization might have accomplished more toward the education of native
workers—the point last under discussion.
With reference to the establishment of stations in the north beyond the
frontier of Siam, there was not until recently absolute unanimity in the
mission. But that was not from any diversity of opinion as regards the
question in itself, but because a sister denomination had established
itself there. There has never been reasonable ground for doubt that the
language and race of the ruling class, and of the population of the
plains would naturally assign them to the Lāo mission. And no other
mission is so well equipped for working that field. A Lāo Inland
Mission, somewhat on the plan of the China Inland Mission, would be an
ideal scheme for reaching the whole of the Tai-speaking peoples of the
north and northeast under English and French and Chinese rule. The
obligation to carry the Gospel to those peoples should rest heavily on
the conscience of the Christian Church, and on our Church in particular.
Who will volunteer to be the leaders?
It has already been noticed that in our educational work the Girls’
School had the precedence in time, and possibly in importance. Boys did
at least learn to read and write in the monasteries. At the time of our
arrival in Chiengmai, only two women in the province could read. The
Chiengmai Girls’ School has had a wide educational influence throughout
the north, and to-day our Girls’ Schools have practically no
competitors.
The Phraner Memorial School for small children, in connection with the
First Church, Chiengmai, under Mrs. Campbell’s direction, is preparing
material both for High Schools and for the College. We have good schools
for girls in Lakawn, Nān, and Chieng Rāi; and parochial mixed schools in
most of our country churches and out-stations. The young women who have
been engaged in this department, and many self-sacrificing married
women, have great reason to rejoice over the work accomplished. No
greater work can be done than that of educating the wives and mothers of
the church and the land. Educated Christian men are greatly handicapped
when consorted with illiterate and superstitious wives. Without a
Christian wife and mother there can be no Christian family, the
foundation both of the church and of the Christian State.
On a recent visit to Chiengmai, Princess Dārā Ratsami—one of the wives
of His late Majesty of Siam, and daughter of Prince Intanon of Chiengmai
and his wife, the Princess Tipakēsawn, often mentioned in the preceding
narrative—was much interested in the Girls’ School, and was pleased to
name it the Phra Rajchayar School, after herself—using therefor her
title, and not her personal name.
The mission had been founded twenty years before it had, and almost
before it could have had, a School for Boys. It is the intention of the
mission to make of this school—the Prince Royal College—the future
Christian College. Similar schools have been established in the other
stations.