Chapter XXXV: Conclusion 413 (12)

“_Wherever_ we can reach the absolutely starving, that is a
place to invest. We do not pretend to relieve all the
_suffering_. Now, if the need in Chiengmai, or in the district
mentioned, is so great that people are actually dying from
starvation, and those now living are living on such stuff as the
sample enclosed (cocanut-husks, leaves, bark, etc.), _with never
a grain of rice_, then I would advise you to form a Famine
Committee, and go into the business as we have done. The actual
starvation _must_ be attended to, _no matter where it is_. But
our saddest experience is within Prê. Some one should be sent
there at once.”

The scenes reported from Prê were harrowing. I will not pain the reader by dwelling upon them. One happy result followed the efforts of the brethren who went to the relief of that district. While administering to bodily wants, they preached the Gospel, making such an impression that there was a strong demand for a permanent station there—which was established the next year, with Dr. and Mrs. Briggs as pioneer missionaries.

It should be stated that, toward the last, the Siamese government sent up supplies of rice; but, because of the distance and the difficulty of transportation, not much reached the suffering people in time to help them; and much was lost in passing through the hands of so many officials.

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XXXI

CHIENG RUNG AND THE SIPSAWNG PANNĀ

At the Annual Meeting of the mission in December, 1892, the broad field of Tai peoples north of the frontier of Siam was discussed, and Rev. Robert Irwin and myself were appointed to make a tour into that region as long and as far as in our judgment might be deemed wise. The tour occupied nearly five months—from January 3d to May 25th, 1893. This time we went fairly well supplied with portions of Scriptures and tracts, and a good outfit of medicine. Of quinine we carried a hundred ounces, and returned with less than twenty-five. We relied on the medicines for the welcome they never yet had failed to win for us. And Mr. Irwin had a cornet which did excellent service throughout the tour. For riding I had my big “sadaw” elephant, and Mr. Irwin had a pony; so we could exchange mounts at our convenience. I pass over the earlier portion of our route, already so often described, and the two weeks spent among the hill-tribes visited on previous trips.

The chief object of our trip was to visit, in their ancient homes, two northern tribes of the Lāo race—the Kôn and the Lû—from which very many of our parishioners in the southern provinces derived their origin. For, under conditions which lasted very nearly down to our own time, there was almost constant predatory warfare going on in this northern country—stronger states raiding the weaker, and sweeping away the entire population of the districts they overran, to plant them in their own realms. Thus whole villages, and even entire districts, in the Lāo provinces of Siam, are peopled by the descendants of such colonies of captives. We found it unadvisable to attempt both visits in the same season, and the Lû were the more accessible, living on the nearer slopes of the Mê Kông valley. We went up on the west of the river along the edge of the British territory, now known as the South Shan States, and beyond it into Chinese territory, as far as Chieng Rung;[15] then, returning, we made a somewhat wider sweep to the east of the river, through French Indo-China; finally recrossing the river at Chieng Lāp, where we struck once more our outgoing trail.

Footnote 15:

This name appears on some maps as Chieng Hung, initial _r_ in the
North being generally pronounced as _h_.—ED.

After leaving Mûang Len, the utmost point of a former trip, we travelled awhile by a fine road along the summit of a ridge so regular as to seem almost like an artificial embankment, and affording noble views over the valley. At Wieng Mai, a recent offshoot of Mûang Yawng, we spent a most interesting Saturday and Sunday. Here the Prince-Governor sent to ask if he should not put up a sālā to shelter us during our stay. In the morning we preached in the market-place, and afterwards I distributed medicine and talked with the people till noon, when I had to flee away to rest under the shade of a big tree by the river. The people seemed hungry for the bread of life. I could not supply all the requests made for copies of the Scriptures.

Mûang Yawng, the older and larger city, we reached on Monday forenoon, after a two hours’ ride. An officer met us at the gate, and showed us to the sālā. When the Chao Mawm heard of our arrival, he sent for us, meeting us at the door. We had a very interesting interview, but he was not inclined to talk on the subject of religion. He told me that the city and district had been entirely depopulated in 1809 by a force from Chiengmai, when “nothing was left behind but the ground.”[16] It had recovered itself, however, and its population was now larger than that of Lampūn. With Nān Suwan I visited the market and the Court. At the latter place I learned that the British Commissioner would arrive the next day. Knowing that everything would be in confusion, we decided to move on the next morning.

Footnote 16:

This incident is a striking illustration of the methods of warfare in
those days. The expedition in question was directed against the
Burmese, who had established themselves in Mûang Yāng some sixty miles
or more to the northwest. On its way it passed through Mûang Yawng,
where it was loyally received. But being defeated at Mûang Yāng, it
fell back upon Mûang Yawng, and there gathered up all the inhabitants
and swept them off to Chiengmai to prevent their falling into the
hands of the enemy!—ED.

From this point on, our elephant was everywhere an object of great interest. Sometimes the people climbed trees to get a better view of him. A long day’s march brought us to Mûang Yū, picturesquely situated on high bluffs, with deep gorges running down to the Mê Lūi. Here we remained only overnight, leaving early the next morning for Mûang Lūi, which we reached about noon. That evening we had a large attendance at worship, the governor and officials remaining till after eleven o’clock. The original population of both these districts, as well as that of Mûang Yawng, are now scattered throughout the provinces of Chiengmai and Lampūn.

Next morning we crossed the beautiful stream on a raft, while our elephant took the ford. During the forenoon we came upon Captain Davis of the Commissioner’s staff, who had been sent to make a detour by Mûang Sing, and was then on his way to join his party. He was resting by the roadside, ill with fever, and was glad to get from me some quinine.

The following day, Saturday, brought us to Mûang Lūang, the largest and most important place in the valley and the southernmost of the old Sipsawng Pannā confederacy. The valley population is wholly Lû. There is scarcely a Ngīu (Western Shan) to be found east of the Keng Tung watershed. Here were the best roads we had seen anywhere in Farther India, with a real arched bridge of stone across the stream at the entrance to the city. Early next morning we were awakened by a noisy crowd about our tent, anxious to see us. It was the great market day, so, instead of attempting a regular service in camp, we chose the market-place. There, whether reading or speaking, we always had some attentive listeners.

On Monday our road lay for many miles along the summit of a low ridge on which at intervals were fifteen large villages, just at the edge of the long fertile plain, where are the rice-fields that feed the country. I never saw in all my touring anything quite to equal that row of villages. It seemed too bad to pass through so many without even stopping.

GROUP OF YUNNAN LĀO]

On the fourth day from Mûang Lūang we reached Chieng Rung, the limit of our northward journey. Its location is strikingly beautiful, on a high steep bluff overlooking the Mê Kōng River, which sweeps in a majestic curve about its base. It is in Chinese territory, and is ruled by a Chao Fā appointed from Yunnan. An officer from Yunnan was there at the time collecting tribute. The influence of the English was already felt there. Mûang Chê, to the west, had rebelled against the Chao Fā, who thereupon sent out an expedition which captured and brought away some three hundred families of the inhabitants. But England cannot allow border warfare to go on along her frontier. An English officer appeared on the scene, and the thing was stopped.

At Chieng Rung we were still in the midst of an area of Lāo-speaking people—an area which extended far beyond on every side. I gave a portion of Scripture to a Lû whose home was ten days’ journey northward; and others to men from as far to the east and to the west.

We had an interview with the Chao Fā by previous appointment. At the door the officer suggested that we pull off our shoes. We replied that it was not our custom, and was unnecessary. He looked very doubtful, but said no more, and we walked in. The Chao Fā received us courteously. We took him to be a man of no great strength of character, about forty years of age, and somewhat weakened by the use of opium. He asked whether we had not some antidote to enable him to stop its use. He listened attentively to our statement of the object of our coming, and said, “You are merit-makers, and that is a good work.”

When we called at the court, the presiding officer had a wise suggestion as to how we might further our purpose and establish our religion in the place—a suggestion evidently not originating with himself, but from a higher source. “The favour of the Chao Fā,” said he, “will be necessary and all-sufficient. I see you have a fine elephant. Just make a present of him to the Chao Fā. He will be delighted, and your road will be all smooth.” I told him that I was an old man, far from home, and dependent on the elephant. So I could not part with him. This same suggestion was pressed upon us several times afterwards, by the highest officials, and quite up to the hour of our departure; though its form was modified from a gift to a sale. I became at last a little anxious about the result, and was somewhat relieved when we actually got away without loss of the elephant.

I may mention at this point an incident of this trip which never came to my knowledge till thirteen years later, showing how we were providentially spared from what would have put a sudden and tragic end to our tour and to our lives. When Dr. S. C. Peoples and Dr. W. C. Dodd were in Keng Tung in March, 1907, the presiding officer of the Court told them that he had met Dr. McGilvary and Mr. Irwin on their way to Chieng Rung; that when the people of Chieng Rung first heard that some foreigners from the south were _en route_ to their capital, they planned to kill and plunder them. But when they saw that the foreigners rode elephants and were accompanied by carriers, they decided that this was probably the advance guard of a formidable army, which it might not be well to attack. And then, he said, the kindness of the missionaries so completely won their hearts, that all thought of murder and plunder was given up.

Our return was to be through the region to the east of the Mê Kōng. Its northern cities still belonged to the Sipsawng Pannā. But the rest of it was territory recently ceded by Siam to France. The governing race—the people of the plains—were everywhere Tai, speaking the Lāo language and using the Lāo literature. On its mountain ridges dwelt numerous hill-tribes, especially the Kamu and the Lamēt.

The route we were to take crosses the river two days’ journey south of Chieng Rung; so we had at first to retrace our steps. We left the city on Monday, March 13th, safe from unseen plots, and with our elephant. On the second day, after leaving our upward road to strike across to the river, we entered unexpectedly a large village, where we met with a reception ludicrously hostile. At every door men were standing with guns in their hands. We were surprised; but, supposing that it might be muster-day or something of the sort, we passed innocently along, without challenge, to the monastery, where we dismounted and began to unload. Then guns were laid aside and the head man and villagers came up to see us and to offer assistance. They had heard that foreigners were coming with elephants and men, whether for peace or war no one knew. So they had taken the precaution to be ready. When they found out our peaceful errand, they were ashamed. We had a pleasant visit and worship with them that evening.

The next stage of our road was bad. In some places we had to cut our way through, and there were difficult passages of brook-beds and gorges. We reached the river at Chieng Hā in a pouring rain, and it rained again at night. The next day was the Buddhist sacred day, and we were awakened early by the crowd of merit-makers and worshippers—the women and girls, as usual, in their head-dresses and gay colours, and all anxious to see the elephant and the white faces.

It was 10:30 that morning before we got away. Ourselves, our men, the saddles and luggage, were carried over by the ferry. Nān Suwan alone faced the deep river on the sadaw to guide him through. At the first plunge all of the elephant save his trunk, and half of the rider, went out of sight. Thence on they went, now up and now down, till they struggled out on the further shore. Such an effort is very exhausting to the animal, and he has to have a good rest and breathing-spell after it.

Mûang Ham, on the eastern bank, is larger than its neighbour on the west. Its governor was a Chao Mawm, next in rank to the Chao Fā of Chieng Rung, and his wife was the Chao Fā’s sister. I had a long talk on religion with the wife. It was a new thought to her that any one could be greater than the Buddha, though he was neither Creator nor Saviour, but only a man. It is unnecessary continually to state what was everywhere the case throughout this trip; namely, that we had good audiences and interested hearers. We left in every place some books in the hands of those most likely to use them; though we could have used to advantage many more, if we had had them.

From Mûang Ham two days’ march brought us on a Saturday to Mûang Nūn, the most important city on our route, and, therefore, a most desirable place to spend Sunday. The city is in the valley of the Nam Bān. It has well paved streets, and a very large monastery on an eminence above, where we camped. The abbot gave us a hearty welcome, and did all he could to make us comfortable. At our night worship the monks and other visitors were very attentive.

On Sunday morning we called on the head officer of the Court, and had a pleasant conversation with him, for he was both intelligent and inquisitive. Just as we were ready for our own morning worship, the Chao Mawm, a relative of the Chao Fā for Chieng Rung, sent to ask us to call. We sent word in reply that it was our hour for worship, and asked whether he would, perhaps, like to have us worship in his residence. His answer was a cordial invitation to come and do so.

The Prince was young and very pleasant. He had a spacious house, and soon he had it filled with his own family, his officers, and his people. Mr. Irwin, as usual, had his cornet. We find that singing our Gospel hymns, with a short explanation of their central truths, is a better way to hold a mixed crowd where women and children form a goodly proportion, than is a regular service. Nān Suwan’s Lû dialect served a very good turn. We had a very interesting morning, and we were cordially invited to hold a similar meeting at night, when many who had been absent in the morning might attend.

At night the house was crowded with a remarkable gathering, for one could hardly call it a congregation. The invitation, the place, the attendant circumstances, were all unique. We sang and prayed and preached with as little restraint as if we had been in our own church in Chiengmai. The part of the service which most impressed them was Nān Suwan’s prayer—a direct appeal to a Person unseen, whom he addressed as Father, Redeemer, Saviour, and Friend. Seldom have I felt so strongly for any as for these, that they were as sheep needing a shepherd; hungry souls asking for bread, and getting that which satisfied not. Ethical teaching they had in abundance, but no Divine Voice asking, “Wilt thou be made whole?” or saying, “Thy sins be forgiven thee. Arise and walk!”

Next morning we made our formal call upon the Prince; but he sent to our camp for our books and the cornet, and soon we had another congregation, and were having worship again. In the afternoon the Prince made us a long call. Then there was a continuous stream of visitors, mostly for medicine, and I vaccinated a number of persons. The son of the chief officer of the Court, a fine young man, was almost ready to come with us to Chiengmai to study our religion further. His father, too, was willing that he should come. The young man promised that he surely would do so next year, if we came again. And now, seventeen years after these events, it saddens me to think no missionary has ever been there since. An occupancy, then, of those open Sipsawng Pannā States would have turned the flank of French obstruction, and have ensured an entrance from the north.

Early on Tuesday morning we left Mûang Nūn, after a visit all too short. The Prince, with his officers and a large crowd of people, were on hand to bid us good-bye. That day we found our track very much obstructed by the jungle growth, and had some difficulty in cutting our way through. Another complication presently arose in the illness of my associate, Mr. Irwin. An attack of indigestion developed next day into symptoms of dysentery, which made further travel for the time impossible. So we were laid up until the following Tuesday at Mûang Wên—and anxious nights and days they were. Milder measures failing, we had to resort at last to a most heroic treatment which I had seen used in the hospital, namely, large doses of ipecac. By this means the disease was got under control; and by care and dieting Mr. Irwin was able at length to continue his journey on my elephant, though throughout the rest of our tour he was far from being well.

At Mûang Pōng, one of the three largest cities on the route, we again stopped over from Thursday night till Tuesday. Here I had an ague-chill on the night of our arrival, but, with free use of quinine and a little rest, I escaped further attack. There was a great deal of fever in the place, and I spent much time in ministering to the sick.

On Saturday I called upon the Prince and his chief officer. I was told that the city furnished five hundred men for the Chao Fā’s expedition, and had seventy villages within its jurisdiction. In former times it had been raided by an expedition from Nān, and some of the Nān villages to this day are peopled by descendants of those captives.

On Monday the Prince and his chief officer made us long calls. The Prince had never seen a repeating rifle, and seemed incredulous that it could fire twelve shots in unbroken succession, till I fired three by way of demonstration. His look of surprise was ludicrous. He _must_ have the gun, he said, to protect his country, and began bidding for it. At last he offered a fine riding pony, which I accepted. He was delighted, saying that we two should always be brothers. If I should never come again myself, he would welcome and aid our assistants. Four years later I did visit the place, but the Prince had been killed.

On Tuesday we reached Mûang Māng, which proved to be one of our most hopeful places. Sitting in front of our tent, with the whole village about us, we talked till midnight. I had a sore throat, but our assistants were inspired with enthusiasm. At last we almost had to drive the crowd away.

Mûang Sing was the objective of this portion of our tour. I first became interested in it when it was about to be occupied as a dependency of the province of Nān. Mr. Phraner and I made an attempt to reach it in 1891, but were turned back. Then, again, it seemed about to fall into British hands, under some old claim by Burma. Even at the time we were there, its status was still uncertain. It gave evidence of having once been a large city, and still had a very large territory under its jurisdiction. Its earlier importance was reflected in the title borne by its ruler, Chao Fā—Lord of the Sky—a title borne by no other Lû ruler south of Chieng Rung. My interest in Mûang Sing had been deepened by acquaintance with a patient in the Chiengmai hospital, of whose case Dr. McKean has kindly furnished the following account:

“This Prayā Singhanāt, a prominent man in the local government,
had been for years a great sufferer from vesical calculus and
had tried all kinds of remedies without avail. Fearing his
disease had been occasioned by offending the spirits in the
building of a new house, he tore the house down. This gave him
no relief. Although he had spent years in the monastery, and had
taken all the degrees of the order, he concluded to re-enter it
in the hope of being cured of his malady, spending again six
months in the monastery. A travelling merchant who had himself
been cured of calculus by an operation in the mission hospital
in Chiengmai, advised the Prayā to go there for relief. This he
determined to do, not without great opposition from the Prince
and from his own family. But he was determined. He sold his
possessions, and started with 800 rupees. His journey was long
and painful. For weeks or even months at a time he could not
travel on account of great pain. Once he was beset by dacoits at
night. A part of his money and all his guns were stolen. When he
finally reached Chiengmai twelve months after leaving home, he
was penniless, and of course still suffering intensely. He was
received into the mission hospital and was wholly relieved by an
operation. A more grateful patient one rarely sees. He regularly
attended service at the hospital and evinced great interest in
Christianity.”

When we reached Mûang Sing, we were disappointed to find that the Prayā was away. But he had loudly sung the praises of the mission hospital, and that was a good introduction for us. The chief officer of the Court was a friend of his, and he proved to be a friend to us, too. Hearing that we were come, the Chao Fā sent for us, and turned out to be a relative of the great Chao Fā of Chieng Rung. Though not of a nature so deeply religious as some, he was interested in religion; and our reply to his first question as to the object of our visit, immediately introduced the subject.

At first he was inclined to cavil, asking such questions as, whether Jesus could rise in the air as Buddha did, and the like. But this was evidently to “save his face” before his officers. For a while he maintained that the universe is self-existent, having come into being by the concurrence of the matter which composes it. But presently he confessed that it is too complicated for that, and plainly shows design—that is, a mind or Mind. At last he asked what argument made us foreigners so certain of our view that we should come to ask them to change their religion for ours. We told him that Jesus Christ Himself was the all-sufficient argument. No matter how the world came into existence, we are here, and we all know that we are sinners. The Buddha confessed himself to be only a man, and himself seeking a refuge like the rest of us. Jesus Christ claimed to have come down from heaven, and to be the Son of God. He challenged the world to convince Him of sin. Those who knew Him intimately saw something in Him not only different and superior, but of a different kind. He showed this not only by His spotless life, but by the miracles that He wrought. He claims to have power to forgive sins. And thousands and millions who have accepted Him believe that He has forgiven them; and show that fact by becoming better men. We talked thus an hour and a half. He evidently felt the force of the arguments.

Sunday was the fifth-day market or fair—the largest and finest we had seen in the north. The hill-tribes, as usual, were out in full force. I was still suffering with sore throat, but Mr. Irwin and the assistants had a fine morning’s work, and in the afternoon had a fair attendance at the regular service.

One of the most interesting incidents of our stay was the night service, held in the residence of the Chao Fā at his express request on the evening before our departure. The audience was mainly his own family and dependents, and the Prince was more free than before. During the singing he asked that the cornet be stopped in order that he might hear the words more plainly. When Nān Suwan led in prayer, he wished to know if we always prayed in that way. There was the usual sad refrain—no hope of pardon, bondage to the spirits, the drawing to a better way, but so strong a counter-current! Yet who can tell how many, after all, the truth may have reached?

We left Mûang Sing on Wednesday, April 12th. There is no need to weary the reader with details of the ten days’ travel before we reached Chieng Sên, or with the varied incidents of our work.

At Chieng Sên we received letters that were disappointing to my plans. The mission had unanimously decided that, partly for considerations of our health, and partly for reasons of mission policy, Mrs. McGilvary and I should take our furlough at once. We had been ten and a half years on duty in the field. My wife was not really sick, but was not well, and the doctor advised her going. I was very anxious to repeat the same tour the next year, in spite of the few malarial chills I had encountered this time. But arrangements had been completed, and there was no option but to submit.

My companion on this tour was far from well, and it was important that he should hasten home at once. What with daily rains, bad roads, and swollen streams, Mr. Irwin had a hard trip of it alone the rest of the way; and it was some little time before he was well again. For my return there was no such need of haste. The work among the Mūsô had been left, upon the whole, in hopeful condition. The power of the tribal bond, which almost annihilated individual responsibility, had been somewhat weakened. Many head men had promised to enrol themselves as Christians this season. It was certain that no tour among them could be made the coming year. I must visit them now.

The experiences of this visit were entirely like those of the previous ones—everywhere the same warm welcome, interesting night meetings, earnest consultations, and ministering to the sick; days spent in wading brooks, climbing mountain ridges, plunging down ravines, to get from one village to another, where the same round would be repeated. They would all become Christians if only another officer or two would join them. Thus it went on till we had visited nearly all of the eleven villages, and were back at Sên Chai’s and Sên Bun Yūang’s, where we began. These people were nearer to Nān Suwan’s Christian village, had known more of our religion, and, no doubt, were believers in the truth of our teaching. We talked with them till late at night, and our parting with them had a tragic interest. They were apparently on the verge of accepting the Gospel. We used our utmost endeavours to persuade them to join Cha Pū Kaw on the other side of the river, and not wait for the others who might come in afterwards. This was probably my last visit; but if any sufficient number would join the church, the mission would not desert them. If not, in all probability the offer would never be pressed upon them again.

And so it proved to be. About half of the villages were under the governor of Chieng Sên. The inhabitants of these were assured of their safety in taking the decisive step, so far as the rulers were concerned. But some of the larger villages were under the governor of Mûang Len. His opposition was a foregone conclusion, because of his interest in the opium traffic. My failure to gain a large entrance among them was one of the greatest disappointments in my whole work.

That I was not mistaken in the hopefulness of the work among the Mūsôs has since been demonstrated by the many thousand converts won among the same tribe by our Baptist brethren in the Keng Tung region. At the same time they are better prepared for such a work than were we. Their wide experience among the Karens of Burma, and the large number of educated Karens through whom they work, give them advantages in this particular work which our mission does not possess. On the other hand, it is surely to be regretted that our mission should be limited in its access to all branches alike of the Tai population found in the northern states, for which, by identity of race and language and literature, we are far better prepared than our Baptist brethren. For while, to use a legal phrase, the missionary holds a brief for no one particular tribe; while his commission and his duty is to preach the Gospel to all whom he can reach; yet it is a well recognized fact that the Tai family has largely fallen to our mission. And it will be seen from what we have said above, that we returned from this trip with enlarged views and bright prospects of opening up work among our own Tai people in the north. It will take years of hard work and a useless expenditure of time and money for any other missionary organization to reach the point at which we were ready to _begin_ work among these people. But this is a complicated question, the tangled web of which it is not possible for any one man to unravel.

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XXXII

THIRD FURLOUGH—STATION AT CHIENG RĀI

On my return to Chiengmai I found preparations well advanced for our departure on furlough. Embarking on June 7th, we reached Bangkok on June 22d, and San Francisco on August 12th, 1893. Of the events of that memorable year, I shall touch upon only two or three.

Dr. J. H. Barrows, the originator and President of the Parliament of Religions, had invited me to attend and participate in its meetings. After, perhaps, a little shock at the boldness of the idea—as if Christianity were to be put on a par with other religions—I sympathized with the object as legitimate and proper. It was merely doing on a large scale what we missionaries are called upon to do on a smaller scale every time that we hold an argument with Buddhists or other non-Christian people. The fairness of the idea, and even its very boldness, might do good; and I believe they did.

On the Sunday before the opening I listened to a really great sermon by Dr. Barrows on “Christ the Light of the World.” I attended every session of the Parliament, save at the hour from 11 A.M. to 12, when I usually went over to the Moody meetings to hear John McNeill, as he was familiarly called, preach his trenchant sermons.

If any one went to the Parliament—as possibly some did—hoping to hear Christianity demolished, he certainly was disappointed. But there was one criticism which occurred to me. Whatever may have been thought of the wisdom of the original conception and inauguration of the Parliament, the Protestant churches might have made a much more imposing front, if the ablest men of the different denominations had not stood aloof, either indifferent or hostile to it. It was surely the opportunity of a lifetime for many, who could not hope otherwise ever to address personally the votaries of non-Christian religions, to bring forward their strong reasons to bear on so many of the most intelligent and presumably the most earnest seekers after the truth.

While attending these meetings in Chicago, I received news that our son, the Rev. Evander B. McGilvary, had felt himself constrained to resign from the Lāo mission. No good can come from now reviewing the issues which led to this step; and it is needless to say how bitter was the disappointment to his parents, who had looked forward to his carrying on their work, and to him, who had specially prepared himself for that work, and for no other. But I must say that bitter as was the disappointment, I sympathized with his position, and respected his motives.

At the meeting of the General Assembly in the following May, to which I was a delegate, the one all-engrossing business was the trial of the Rev. Henry P. Smith, D.D., for heresy on the question of the “Higher Criticism.” Viewing the matter from this distance, and entirely apart from the merits of this particular case, I doubt whether critical and scientific questions are proper subjects for trials before such a body. If tried at all, such questions should be tried by a commission of experts. Biblical criticism and science will go on, and the questions involved will be decided according to their own lines of evidence, quite irrespective of the decrees of Popes, Councils, and General Assemblies. I am much mistaken if the good sense and temper of the church would now sanction heresy trials on such questions.

* * * * *

One day some fifteen years earlier than the point we have now reached in our narrative, a letter came to our mission from a Mr. Robert Arthington of Leeds, England. The letter, like all his subsequent ones, was on small sheets of notepaper, written over once, and then written again crosswise, so as to be almost illegible. The writer had somewhere learned of the journey of a French explorer who, from the upper Mê Kōng and the headwaters of the Mê Ū, had crossed to the China Sea through the region now known as Tonking. The traveller had passed through certain tribes possessed of a written language and supposed to be of Aryan stock. By some means Mr. Arthington had heard of our mission, and wrote to enquire whether some of us could not visit those tribes and distribute among them “the Gospels of John and of Luke, and the Acts of the Apostles,” particularly “telling them that the Acts followed Luke, _and was by the same author_.”

We had not the slightest idea who the writer was; but the devout spirit of the letter was charming, and such interest in obscure tribes along the northern border of our field was most surprising. His strong desire to send the Gospel message to “the regions beyond” appealed to me. He appeared to be a man of means, for he offered to bear the expense of circulating those three books. At the same time he was evidently somewhat eccentric and impractical in his ideas. He seemed not to have thought that to circulate books among newly discovered tribes would require—since the cessation of the gift of tongues—acquisition of their languages, translation, printing-presses, etc., etc. But the case, at all events, seemed worth following up.

I acknowledged the receipt of his letter, pointing out the obstacles which he seemed to overlook, directing his attention to our own mission as occupying a new and interesting field, with many hill-tribes on our own border which we hoped to reach. I invited his coöperation, stating that as soon as we were properly enforced, we intended to go as far north as we could.

Almost to my surprise, Mr. Arthington replied immediately, expressing his interest in our work, but still reverting to his scheme for evangelizing the “tribes of Aryan stock” found by his French traveller. That was, of course, impossible for us to undertake, though I did propose to Dr. Cushing of the American Baptist Mission in Burma to join me in a tour through that region at Mr. Arthington’s expense. This plan had attractions for us both; but Dr. Cushing’s college work made it impossible. Still, we might be able to make some compromise with our unknown correspondent. So, for some years, I kept up an occasional correspondence with Mr. Arthington, just sufficient to keep us in touch with each other. He always replied immediately to my letters, breathing the same deep interest in missions, and especially in the tribes hitherto unreached by the Gospel. Touring within my own appointed field engrossed the whole of my available time; but since that field was already in part supplied, it did not specially appeal to him.

After the tour, longer than usual, taken with my daughter in 1890, I sent him a report of it. In response he sent me thirty pounds, which aided in the work of 1891 among the Mūsô. The tour taken with Mr. Phraner in 1892 was nearer to his idea; and the one taken with Mr. Irwin in 1893 intensely interested him—but chiefly because it seemed to be a stepping stone toward reaching his “Aryan tribes” beyond. He thoroughly approved of that tour; expressed his regret that we could not meet in order to come to a clearer understanding about the geography of the region—since all our maps were defective; and suggested, “I should like your daughter to go with you on your next trip, as I can well conceive the idea that she will be a valuable help.” He was, moreover, “particularly interested that the Cambodians also should have the Gospels of Luke and John, and the Acts.”

Following up Mr. Arthington’s suggestion of an interview, I met him by appointment in Liverpool on my return from the United States. We had only a half hour’s interview; but he thought that sufficient to enable us to understand each other’s plans. On reaching London I was to make out an order for what sum I needed for my next work. This I did, asking for the modest sum of forty pounds, which I received by return post.

The trans-Mê Kōng tour, however, was inevitably delayed. It was not until the Annual Meeting of the mission in 1896 that Dr. Peoples and I were appointed to make that tour, an account of which will appear later. To complete, however, now the story of my relations with Mr. Arthington, I may say that in advance of the Annual Meeting just referred to, I wrote to him that the projected tour would surely be taken, and suggested that sixty pounds would probably suffice to cover its expense. His reply came the day before our meeting adjourned, with a cheque for seventy pounds. The timely aid seemed to anticipate the divine approval of our attempt. In his letter he suggested, “Perhaps it might be a good precaution for you to let the French know your friendly object, and to get full permission to travel east of the upper waters of the Mê Kōng as far as you deem proper for your purpose. But, dear Brother, seek—and I intend to ask with you—the Lord’s counsel and blessed comfort and guidance.”

The tour was taken, as I have already intimated, and a full printed report was sent to Mr. Arthington. On the whole, he was pleased; but it is not easy to serve two masters. I had assured him from the beginning that my first duty was to my mission and my own field. Still he was a little disappointed that I had to go so far out of my way to join Dr. Peoples in Nān; and a little more so that we could not get up nearer to Tongking to give his favourite “John, Luke, and the Acts” to the tribes supposed to be of Aryan descent, found by the French traveller. To enable me to do this, he said, “I believe I should have great pleasure in sending you all you will need from me.” He even intimated once that he would be willing to provide in his will for the continuance of that work. While not jealous of my connection with the Board, it seemed to him a tantalizing thing that, while I was geographically nearer his goal than any one else, and was, moreover, in sympathy with his devout spirit and evangelistic aspirations to reach the “regions beyond,” I was not free to carry out his favourite, though somewhat chimerical, plans.

The last letter I had from him was dated October 22d, 1898. His passion was then as strong as ever to get his three favourite books to “the tribes mentioned by the French traveller, ... for they are a people for whom I have desired much, since the day I first read of them, that they should have the Gospel.” He expressed great sympathy with my disappointment that the French would not permit our labouring in their territory, adding, “Yet the Lord will not be robbed of His own.” His death occurred not very long after this. Of the disposition of his large estate I found the following account in the London _Daily Graphic_:

“The late Robert Arthington of Leeds, left about £750,000 to the
London Missionary Society, and the Baptist Missionary Society.
The total value of his estate was £1,119,843. It is estimated
that the Baptist Missionary Society will receive £415,000 and
the London Missionary Society £335,000. The whole of the money
must be spent in the next twenty years on new missionary work,
and no part of it is to be spent in the United Kingdom.”

We reached Bangkok on September 11th, 1894. There we were joined by the Rev. and Mrs. Howard Campbell and Dr. and Mrs. C. H. Denman, who had come _via_ the Pacific. Earlier in this same year there had come to the station in Mûang Prê, Dr. and Mrs. Thomas, Mr. and Mrs. Shields, and Miss Hatch; with the Rev. and Mrs. L. W. Curtis and Miss Margaret Wilson for Lakawn.

On our arrival in Chiengmai we found Mr. Phraner very ill with abscess of the liver, and suffering at times intense pain. He had been warned by physicians and friends to desist from his work and take his furlough. But, as chairman of the Evangelistic Committee, he had been pushing the evangelistic work too eagerly to heed these warnings. He refused to leave his post till those who were absent should return. Soon after we arrived he started for the United States, but, alas! it was too late. He died in Singapore on January 15th, 1895, leaving a wife and two little boys to pursue their sad journey alone. Mrs. Phraner—formerly Miss Lizzie Westervelt—had served a useful term in the Girls’ School before her marriage. The Phraner Memorial School for small children, erected by the family and friends beside the First Church in Chiengmai, is an appropriate tribute to their labours for the Lāo race, to which they devoted their lives.

The year of our absence had been almost a banner year as regards successful evangelistic work. Mr. Dodd’s Training School had furnished a larger number of fairly well prepared evangelists than we ever had before. Between forty and fifty of these had been actually at work in the field for longer or shorter periods during the year, and their work had been very successful. The Annual Meeting convened in Chiengmai soon after our return. In it there was evident, on the part both of missionaries and of native assistants, a degree of enthusiasm and exuberant expectancy which, under the most favourable circumstances, could hardly have escaped the inevitable reaction. Krū Nān Tā, a man of magnetic power among his people, was then in his prime. The great value of his services raised probably to an excessive degree our estimate of the necessity of more _ordained_ native labourers. If one had done so much, what might a dozen or a score accomplish? And there were the men, with two, three, or even more years of training in the study of the Bible. Most of them were elders or deacons in the different churches. They had proved faithful in little. Why might they not be trusted with more talents? Nine of these men were presented for examination before the Presbytery.

When we began, it was thought—against the advice of Mr. Dodd, who was on furlough—that one or two might be ordained to meet the immediate needs of the work. Some of them had spent a number of years in the Buddhist priesthood, and had some knowledge of Pali. Others were without such education, but nearly all had learned to read Siamese. In Biblical knowledge they had made fair progress. When the examination was closed, there was a long and anxious deliberation, with special prayer for divine direction. It was quite safe to ordain one or two. But the next candidate was so near the standard of these that it might seem invidious to exclude him—and so with the next, and the next. When the vote was taken, six were chosen for ordination and three for licensure. The millennium seemed drawing near!

With the new title and responsibility, higher wages were naturally to be expected. And it was precisely upon this rock that our hopes and plans suffered shipwreck. The Board, as never before, began to insist on the native churches assuming the support of their own evangelists. The methods of mission work set forth and practised in China by the Rev. Dr. Nevius were urged upon us, and became very popular, especially with the younger members of the mission, though in China they had not passed beyond the stage of experiment. They are best described in Dr. Nevius’ own words:

“These two systems may be distinguished in general by the
former’s depending largely on paid native agency, while the
latter deprecates and seeks to minimize such agency. Perhaps an
equally correct and more generally acceptable statement of the
difference would be, that, while both alike seek ultimately the
establishment of independent, self-reliant, and aggressive
native churches, the ‘Old System’ strives by the use of foreign
funds to foster and stimulate the growth of native churches in
the first stage of their development, and then gradually to
discontinue the use of such funds; while those who adopt the
‘New System’ think that the desired object can be best obtained
by applying principles of independence and self-reliance from
the beginning. The difference between these two theories may be
more clearly seen in their outward and practical working. The
old uses freely, and as far as practicable, the more advanced
and intelligent of the native church members, in the capacity of
paid Colporteurs, Bible Agents, Evangelists, or Heads of
Stations; while the new proceeds on the assumption that the
persons employed in these various capacities would be more
useful in the end by being left in their original homes and
employments.”[17]

Footnote 17:

_Methods of Mission Work_, p. 4.

The result was that the mission took a good thing and ran it into the ground. Economy became almost a craze. The churches were assessed—not heavily, it is true—to support the ministers; and the ministers were exhorted to take whatever stipend was agreed upon, and count any deficiency in it as a voluntary contribution on their part, or as a debt they owed their countrymen for the Gospel’s sake. Neither parishioners nor workers understood the scheme. But it was tried for one year; and at the next Annual Meeting (in 1895) the catastrophe came. The churches had been asked to walk before they could stand; and the ministers were to work, as well as walk, by faith and not by sight. As pastors, their expenses were necessarily increased. They had to dress better, and to be an example in clothing, and educating their families, and in hospitality. It seemed to them that they were required to make bricks without straw. A little yielding to demands that were not unreasonable would have satisfied the ministers, and the churches would have been encouraged by the continuance of some support from the Board for evangelistic work, even though the amount was much reduced. The zeal was well meant; but we broke off too suddenly.

For the unfortunate results, the mission, the native ministers, the churches, and, indirectly, the Board should share the responsibility. The advantages gained by our Training School were nullified, and all progress toward a permanent Theological School was at an end. After those two Annual Meetings there was no call for theological training, and no future for a native ministry. So we have to go on appealing to the Board and to the American churches for foreign workers, although the salary of one of these would support half a dozen or more native ministers.

It is easy to say that native ministers and church members should be willing, out of pure gratitude, to labour for the evangelization of their own people, or that such and such other races have done so. As a matter of fact, the Lāo church is largely indebted for its progress to the power exerted by the church itself. And as to the example of other races, we must remember that there are racial differences. Even our nearest Christianized neighbours, the Karens, stand in a class quite by themselves in this respect. We can no more apply one rule to all oriental races than we can enforce western customs in the Orient. But we certainly cannot expect happy results from the application of rules that would have discouraged our own ancestors when the first Christian missionaries found them.

Among the things of more hopeful augury accomplished in the year 1894, two deserve special mention—the establishment of Christian Endeavour Societies in all the Lāo churches, primarily through the efforts of Dr. Denman, and the publication of the Book of Psalms and of a hymnal of over two hundred hymns and tunes. The Psalms were translated by Dr. Wilson, and the hymns were almost wholly from his pen.

At the Annual Meeting, to which reference has already been made, a committee was appointed to consider anew and report on the question whether it was or was not advisable now to occupy the northern portion of the field with a permanent station, and, if it were deemed advisable, to determine the location. I had been anxious to have it occupied two years before this time, but had yielded then to the claims of Prê and of Nān—of Prê because the relief work among the sufferers from famine had furnished a most auspicious opening there; and of Nān because it was a larger city and province than any in the nearer north. Notwithstanding the greater progress of the work in the north, with organized and growing churches in Wieng Pā Pāo, Chieng Rāi, and Chieng Sên, there seemed to be a lingering doubt as to the wisdom of establishing permanent stations in cities so small as these. Most of my colleagues had never visited that northern region. No one save myself had surveyed the whole field. Yet no part of the work of a mission is more important, or requires better judgment, than the location of its permanent stations. Although fully persuaded in my own mind, I did not wish the mission to embark on a new project involving outlay of money and of men, without the mature judgment of the whole mission. Hence it was at my own suggestion that the committee was appointed.