Chapter XXXV: Conclusion 413 (13)

On January 20th, 1896, Dr. Denman and I of this committee started northward. Mr. Dodd joined us later. It is a great thing to have a physician along on such a tour. He relieves a great deal of suffering among a needy people, and so lifts a great load of care from his companion. But beyond this, I myself had quite an attack of fever on this particular trip, and was much indebted to his care for my recovery. Then we had the stereopticon along, and lectured nearly every night to large audiences. The doctor manipulated the lantern, and left the explanation and application to me. Those pictures have made the Gospel story to live in the imaginations of many thousands of people. The occasional introduction of a familiar scene from native life serves to give confidence that the others also are real, while a few comic ones interest the children, old and young. A picture of the King of Siam—their King—with three of his children, one of them with his arms about his father’s neck, always attracted great attention, and was often asked for again at the close of the exhibition.

I had some trouble this time with my sadaw elephant. At one stage his back became so sore that I should have left him behind, were it not that he had had a serious encounter with a tusker, and I dared not risk him in that vicinity. He escaped from the encounter with some bruises, and it was fortunate that he inflicted no serious wound on his antagonist. And he was quite well again, before we got home. This was, however, the last tour he made with me. Elephants had become property so unsafe that, before the next season, I disposed of both of mine. In one year, out of three hundred and fifty elephants employed by a timber firm, thirty-two died and twenty-two were stolen. But it was like parting with a friend to see the sadaw go.

* * * * *

The committee visited the three northern churches, and, after full conference both with the local rulers and with the Christians, reached the unanimous decision that there should be a station established in the north, and that it should be at Chieng Rāi. In this we were largely influenced by the central situation of that place with reference to a considerable group of cities and towns within the same watershed, and all, like Chieng Rāi itself, rapidly filling up with an agricultural population crowded out from the dear and densely settled lands further south. And in addition to this was the conviction that the new station would prove a stepping-stone to the large northern section of the Tai race, established in territory which is now English, French, and Chinese. We still think that some amicable arrangement should be made with the American Baptist Missionary Union, by which the Tai race to the north of Siam and east of the Salwin should be left to our mission. The Union has a great work among the hill-tribes—a work for which they are specially adapted and specially well equipped; while we are equally well equipped for work among the Tai.

Dr. Denman viewed the field with special interest, for he had been designated to help in opening the station, and we had the virtual sanction of the Board thereto. It was the prospect of having a physician that specially enlisted the interest of the rulers of Chieng Rāi; though both they and their people were friendly to our work on other grounds. It made us sad to think that our old friend the governor had not lived to see the mission started. But the beautiful lot given by him on the Mê Kok will always be a memorial to him. In due time Rev. and Mrs. Dodd and Dr. and Mrs. Denman moved up and opened the station. The years have abundantly justified the wisdom of this step. In 1910 the accessions to the churches in Chieng Rāi equalled those of the mother church in Chiengmai.

From Chieng Sên we sent out two parties of evangelists, five in each, well loaded with Scriptures and tracts, one northwestward to Keng Tung, and the other across the Mê Kōng to Mûang Sing. This was the very first mission work ever done in the Keng Tung State. These parties carried also a supply of medicines, and were limited in time to two and a half months. They were everywhere well received, and on their return gave interesting reports of their work. Their books were eagerly read, and the supply of them was far too small. There were a number of interesting cases of believers. Some villages were loath to have them leave. The experiment, in fact, was very successful.

PHYA SURA SIH, SIAMESE HIGH COMMISSIONER FOR THE NORTH]

As soon as our committee work was done, Mr. Dodd was obliged to return. After visiting the Mūsô villages, Dr. Denman and I moved on to Chieng Kawng. This town is situated on the right bank of the great river within the fifteen-kilometer zone which was reserved as neutral territory upon the cession of the left bank to France. A French military station was on the opposite side of the river, and a small gunboat was lying there—the first that ever came up through the rapids. Among the crew were two or three who could read English, and who were very anxious to get English Bibles. This was an unexpected request which we could not then meet. But I applied for some to the American Bible Society, and received them just before I started on my trip of the next year; and, finally, was able to forward them to the men from Lūang Prabāng. The captain of the gunboat was very kind to us while we stayed at Chieng Kawng, and was much interested in having his men get the Bibles.

Letters were presently received by Dr. Denman summoning him back to Chiengmai on account of the illness of his wife. This left me again without an associate, and with the added care of the medical work, which cannot be avoided on such a tour, and which, of course, rests more heavily on a layman than it does on a trained physician. Before returning home I made a call—and I believe it was the last one—at the Mūsô villages beyond the Mê Kōng. Again my hopes were raised of gaining the whole tribe. With such a prospect I would gladly have remained with them several months. But again I had to leave them with only the “next year” promise—which never was fulfilled. I reached home on May 5th, after an absence of three and a half months.

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XXXIII

THE REGIONS BEYOND

Two important tours were undertaken by the Lāo Mission in 1897—one at the opening of the year, eastward and northward beyond the Mê Kōng River into French and Chinese territory; and the other after the close of the rainy season, northward into British territory. The latter tour led to far-reaching results, but it does not come within the scope of this personal narrative. The former was rendered possible by the timely gift of seventy pounds from Mr. Arthington, already mentioned; and represented the nearest approach we could then make toward the fulfilment of his great desire to reach with the Scriptures those “tribes of Aryan origin” in the “regions beyond.” Dr. Peoples, then of Nān, was my companion during part of this tour; and we went well supplied with Scriptures and tracts, no less than fourteen carriers being loaded with these alone. I left home on January 12th, going eastward by way of Lakawn and Prê to Nān, where Dr. Peoples was to join me. At each of these stations I spent a busy and a delightful Sunday; and from Lakawn as far as Nān I had the pleasant company of Miss Fleeson and Miss Dr. Bowman, returning to their post from the Annual Meeting.

One night on this portion of the trip we were awakened by the cries of our men and the snorting of the ponies, to find that we had a visit from a night prowler, coming so near that we heard the clatter of the loose stones which he dislodged as he sprang away. The tracks we found in the morning showed him to be a large Bengal tiger. On this same stretch of road, as recently as 1910, the mails for Nān were interrupted by a man-eating tiger, which killed several men and women, till, finally, he was despatched by Dr. Peoples within a few hundred yards of the mission compound.

Ten days were spent in journeying northward through the great province of Nān, stopping night by night in its villages and towns, where we always had good audiences at our evening worship. Sunday we spent at Mûang Ngôn, and then turned eastward, striking the Mê Kōng at Tā Dûa, and making our way up its western bank. At Bān Hūi Kûa we found such interest that we were sorry that we must move on. The Prayā—or Pīa, as the name is called throughout this region—spent an afternoon in transcribing in the Lūang Prabāng character the tract entitled “The Way to Happiness.” He had heard something of our religion before this from a former princess-pupil of Miss Cole in the Wang Lang School at Bangkok. As he bade us good-bye he said, pointing upwards, “I hope we shall meet up yonder,” and seemed pleased that we had the same anticipation.

The next Sunday we camped in the monastery grounds at Bān Hūa Ling. The people began to assemble before breakfast, and long before it was time for the morning service the grounds were full. The abbot, with his monks and the officers, sat directly before me as I explained the method of salvation through Jesus Christ. The audience listened most attentively. At the close the abbot and the officers remained for further conversation. The abbot expressed surprise at our errand. He had never known of anybody’s travelling about simply to teach the people. Some expressed fear of encountering the anger of the spirits if they should no longer worship them. To this the doctor gave the scientific answer that fevers and most other diseases were caused and propagated by specific germs, over which the spirits have no control whatever. This was to them a new idea, but they seemed to comprehend it. Next morning, when we left them, the people followed us with expressions of regret.

When we reached Chieng Mên, a town on the western bank of the river and opposite Lūang Prabāng, we found a European with a group of boys, who turned out to be the French schoolmaster. He invited us to dine with him that evening, and the next day aided us in crossing the river. Our first duty in Lūang Prabāng was to report to the French authorities, M. Vackle, the Commandant Supérieur, and M. Grant, the Commissaire. They had been notified from Bangkok of our coming, and received us with genuine French hospitality. We never met two more perfect gentlemen. They even offered us a house; but, as the abbot of the principal monastery was a personal friend of mine, they yielded to our preference to stop with him, but only on the ground that there would be more comfort and room for our men.

That evening we were invited to dine with M. Vackle. M. Grant and his staff were present; and the dinner was a royal one, to which we were prepared to do full justice. We had the embarrassment of not being able to converse save through a native interpreter not well versed either in French or in English. But our host was most considerate, as were also his French guests. And every evening during our stay we dined with one or another of the officials.

Next day we called on the Lāo “King,” as he is still euphemistically called, though possessing only such powers as the French give him. When we made our business call on the French officials to ask permission to proceed on our missionary tour through the French territory, they were very obliging. We freely discussed together alternative routes, and they offered us passports for any of them. When at last with some hesitancy, the question of permanent work and a mission station was broached, M. Vackle replied that for that he had no authority. Application would have to be made to the Governor General at Hanoi, and preferably through Washington and Paris. The prospect still seemed hopeful.

On the evening before our departure, M. Vackle invited us to dine informally and spend the evening with him at his beautiful cottage and garden two miles out in the country. On meeting us, our host said, “The other night I was the Commandant Supérieur. To-night I am simply M. Vackle. I want to have a pleasant informal evening with you.” And surely we did. We talked of the old friendship between France and the United States, of Washington and La Fayette, the Chicago Exposition, the Parliament of Religions, and of M. Vackle’s own work in the new province. He was interested in the Parliament of Religions, and asked if Roman Catholics were equally welcome with Protestants. He had an exaggerated idea of the number of our religious sects. We told him that the great body of Protestants were included in five or six groups somewhat like the orders of the Catholic church, but there were numerous smaller subdivisions. He had heard of one that lived wholly on milk. Of this we had to confess ignorance, unless it were that large group that we call infants.

It was after eleven when we rose to take our leave; and even then he detained us to see by torchlight his beautiful garden, artificially watered, and his bowling alley—insisting that we try a turn on it. This was what I had never done before, but at the first bowl I brought down several pins. This pleased him, and he said that he had never seen a better first play.

On taking our final leave, we spoke a last word for permanent mission work, reminding him that while Catholicism and Protestantism had alike produced great nations, Buddhism never had; and that it was therefore political wisdom to encourage and foster the Christian religion in the provinces. He assented, but said he feared that the “King” might imagine that his subjects would be less loyal if they became Christians. We assured him that the reverse would be true, since it was a fundamental point in our teaching as well as in the Scriptures, that Christians were to be obedient to their rulers.

Among the routes offered we chose the northern one as most nearly meeting Mr. Arthington’s desires. Our passport stated that we were Bāt Lūangs, i.e., Catholic priests. We left Lūang Prabāng on Monday, March 8th, crossed the Nam Ū near its mouth, and spent three weeks on our way to Mûang Sai. At one point there was a theft of a considerable amount of our money, which delayed us a day or two, but annoyed us more. The thieves turned out to be some of our own men, who afterwards confessed, and eventually we recovered the money. From Mûang Sai there is a good route to Nān, and as no man had been left in that station along with the ladies, Dr. Peoples felt that he must return to it, while I should go on northward to the Sipsawng Pannā and finally return to Chiengmai along the route which I took with Mr. Irwin in 1893. His departure was a great loss to me personally, and to the effectiveness of the tour. He left us on March 31st.

The next week was one of intense interest to me. One of its days was the thirtieth anniversary of my arrival in Chiengmai, and fraught with memories of the hopes, achievements, and disappointments of all those years. And were we now, perhaps, on the eve of a new opening with wider possibilities than ever? So it seemed. For, one day as I was in the monastery at Mûang Sai, there entered an officer, Sên Suriya by name, who, making the obeisance usually made to priests, explained that, having been absent from home, he had not heard the instruction we had given at our evening worship. His wife, however, had reported that a teacher from a great and distant country was come with Scriptures and an offer of salvation from the great God of all. It was the great desire of his heart to be saved from his sins. His interest was evidently intense, and that roused our interest in him. From three o’clock till nightfall our elders and I explained to him the great truths of revelation, while he listened almost with rapture.

In the midst of this earnest conference the “āchān,” or chief officer of the monastery, came in; and Sên Suriya joined us in explaining to this friend the strange news he had heard. The āchān was soon as deeply interested as he. He also desired to know further of this matter. Before we parted that evening, Sên Suriya had accepted the teaching joyfully; and his friend, with more reservation.

Soon others had joined these two—notably a family of refugees from persecution for witchcraft. They were ready to accept anything which would deliver them from bondage to the spirits. On Sunday at the public service the instruction was directed to the needs of these enquirers, all of whom were present. The cost was to be counted; the cross was to be taken up; but the reward was great. Sên Suriya’s wife and family all opposed him. He had spent an anxious night, and was under great strain; but was still firm. He was ready at any cost.

His friend the āchān had received his appointment in the monastery from the Pīa, or head-officer. For honesty’s sake he felt he must notify the Pīa and resign his position. It was, therefore, arranged that our elders and I should go with the two friends on that errand that very afternoon. We went, and were kindly received. Sên Suriya, as spokesman, witnessed a good confession. They had been men, he said, who all their lives had sought merit and followed the teachings of the Buddha, but with great anxiety, on account of their failures. Now they had learned of the great refuge of the God who could pardon and save both in this and in the coming world. Their motive was strictly religious. They would be as loyal as ever, and would perform faithfully their government duties. The āchān said that his friend had fully expressed his views, but he wished further to resign his position in the monastery. The Pīa listened with evident interest, but with some surprise. When he spoke, he said: “All that I know of religion I have learned from these two men. They know manifold more than I do. If they see it right, how can I oppose? I will still take them as my religious teachers, and will learn Christianity of them.”

I added a word, emphasizing their assurance that being good Christians would only strengthen their loyalty. Thanking the Pīa for his kindness, I retired. How much of his liberality was due to my presence—if it were so due at all—I do not know. But next morning Sên Suriya came to say that he could not withstand the opposition of his wife and family. While his faith was firm as ever, he could do no more this year. By another year he hoped their opposition might be relaxed. Meantime the family of refugees had weakened. I supplied all these with medicine, and urged them to remain steadfast in the faith, reminding them that baptism was not essential to salvation.

I had made further stay in Mûang Sai dependent upon the outcome in the case of these two men. So now it seemed best to continue my journey northward. I went out to a retired wooded hillock, and there spent a quiet season in prayer, commending those in whom I had become so intensely interested to the care of the Divine Teacher, and seeking direction for my further course.

So far we had not met many of the hill-tribes, which had been one of the main objectives of the tour. As I descended from the hill, I found some thirty Kamus just arrived on some government work, and encamped by the road. I turned aside to speak with them, when, to my surprise, one, taller and more intelligent than the rest, answered me in good Lāo. To my greater surprise, when I handed him a tract, he began to read it. It seems that, when a lad, he had been initiated into the monastic order by the Princess of Lūang Prabāng, and was one of the very few of his tribe who was a fairly good Lāo scholar. He was delighted to get the book; but I was like a miner who has found a new gold mine. Had they been ready to return to their homes, I should at once have gone with them. A new vision seemed to open before me of work among that interesting tribe. I had seen the great value of the help afforded by Cha Pū Kaw, the first Mūsô convert, in work among his tribe. But he was not a scholar, and was too old to learn. Here was a Kamu scholar. Might he not have been raised up for this very purpose?

That evening I spent with my elders in their camp. I left with my new friend a number of books, which he promised to read to his people. I took down the names of their villages, and promised if possible to visit them next year—which they all begged me to do. That apparently casual meeting seemed to me a loud call, Come over and help us! And it led to a most interesting work, which was stopped only at the command of the French.

Leaving Mûang Sai, we journeyed northward along the telegraph road, enlivened by noble views of long slopes, deep gorges, and high peaks. We passed some villages of the Yao tribe with whom we could converse only by signs. On the third day out, at Bān Nā Tawng, we left the telegraph road, turning off at right angles to Mûang Lā. At one village the head man assembled his people to meet us, when he learned that here was a man from seven days beyond the great French country! At one place we passed a village of Lentīns, so named from the district in Cochin China from which they came. They showed their Chinese ingenuity by having their rice-pounding done by water-power.

Mûang Āi was the last town in French territory; beyond it one enters the province of Yunnan, China. Here we had scarcely pitched our tent before the governor had read our little tract on “The Way to Happiness,” and asked us to stay awhile to teach his people. This we did, remaining from Friday till Tuesday. He invited us to worship in his house, which was filled to overflowing. On Saturday, in company with the governor, I attended a wedding feast. I got along finely with the various dishes until a bowl of blood fresh from a slaughtered hog was passed around, and each guest took a spoonful! My note upon leaving the town was, “It is wonderful how many, especially of the officers and the more thoughtful class, are struck with the self-evidencing truths of the Gospel on its first presentation. And their first thought is the sincere conviction that the Gospel meets their wants. Nor is this testimony invalidated because, when they come to count the cost, they are not willing to pay it.”

I was much pleased to hear uniform testimony to the uprightness of French officials. My own respect for French rule had greatly increased since we entered their territory. Is it that the Tai race beyond the Mê Kōng is more religious, or is it on account of the French rule, that people there seem more deeply interested in the Gospel message? But such has been the fact. I have never been cheered by brighter visions of hopeful and speedy results of our labours. It seems almost inconceivable that a European nation should forbid missionary work among its people.

From this point on we were warned not to allow our party to be separated on the march. Shortly before this a merchant travelling with his son had been attacked and killed. I heard of two mountain tribes in this neighbourhood new to me, and of a third further to the northwest, which sacrifices at every rice-harvest a human victim captured from some other tribe. Scarcely any one had ever heard of the name of Jesus.

Not far from the town we passed on a ridge a well-marked boundary stone with the letters R. F. (République Française) on one side, and C. R. (Chieng Rung) on the other, in large Roman capitals. Noticing by the roadside a large stack of bricks, we learned that we were near the salt wells, and that the salt was compressed into bricks for easier transportation on mules. The salt industry makes Bān Baw Rê an important place. No one with white clothes, white hair, or white beard is allowed to enter the enclosure about the salt wells; so I did not see them. I could get no reason for the prohibition, save that the spirits would be displeased.

The time of my visit was unfortunate, being the beginning of their New Year festival, which is always a season of carousal. That night we had a scene that defied description. After supper a man came to tell me to get ready; they were going to “saw” me. I did not know what “saw”-ing might be; but I soon learned, to my disgust. Presently a noisy crowd entered the sālā where I was, with drums, fifes, and other musical instruments, and surrounded me with deafening noise and songs. A great personage had come to their place, and they were come to do him honour. He had great riches, and they expected a treat of fifty rupees. Paying no attention to my attempted disclaimer, they went on: “Give us out your money. Give us fifty rupees! Give us twenty-five!” Pushing my way out of the noisy circle, I was followed with more imperative demands. At last the governor’s son came up as a friend and advised me to give them five or six rupees, or they would never depart. Then one of my elders came to me, anxious regarding the outcome, and said that it was only a New Year custom, not a religious one—intimating that I need have no conscientious scruples in the matter. Finally the governor’s son said he could get them off with three rupees. I had only one in my pocket, and did not dare open my box before that mob. At last I handed the young man that one, and, with an emphasis which they understood, told him that I would give no more, appealing to his father for protection, and holding him responsible for the consequences. They went off sullenly enough. Having gone so far, I doubt whether they would have desisted without something “to save their face.” From me they went to the governor’s, and so on, in order, throughout the place, with their hideous noise, which I could hear far on into the night.

At another village further on, the people seemed in doubt how to receive me, till a young man came forward and asked if I were not the man who a few years before travelled through that country with an elephant, and let the Prince of Mûang Pōng have a gun. Then, turning to the head man, he said, “You need not be afraid. He is a teacher of the Jesus-religion.” My standing in that village was assured. One of the listeners at our worship in the monastery that night was much impressed, not with the idea of pardon, as is commonly the case, but with that of the Holy Spirit to purify and cleanse. That was what he needed; and he earnestly enquired how to obtain his aid. This led to the subject of prayer to a living, personal God, who has promised this aid. We left him with the hope that his great need would be supplied.

Mûang Lā was the furthest point reached on this tour. From it we struck westward into our old route of 1893 at Mûang Pōng. The Chao Fā who got my gun had been killed by his people. I was much struck with the judicial aspect of the act as told me. One of the officers said, “He was a bad man, who oppressed the people, fined and executed them unjustly, and, of course, we killed him. That is the way the Lāo do.” A nephew and adopted son of the murdered Prince succeeded him, but the authority was largely in the hands of the Prayā Lūang, though the young Prince’s mother also had great influence. She invited me to a good dinner, and we had a most interesting conversation. Among other things she asked, “How is it that you say Buddhism cannot save?” and she seemed much impressed with the answer: “Because Gautama Buddha is gone, and it is more than twenty-five hundred years before the next Buddha is expected.”

We were now travelling southward, and soon came once more upon the tricolour floating over the French post at Mûang Sing. I felt like saluting it. I was greatly surprised to find an Englishman, Mr. Eva, in charge. He fairly shouted to hear his mother tongue once more. He had scarcely heard a word of it for three years. Seeing that I was spent with my long, hot ride, and that my carriers would not get in till nightfall, he kindly offered to hunt me up some luncheon. This I declined, if only I might have a cup of tea and a piece of dry bread. Holding up both hands, he exclaimed, “You’ve got me there! I’ve almost forgotten how wheat bread tastes.” He insisted on my taking up my quarters in his bungalow, till I said, “If you were on French business, you would wish to stop where you could best accomplish it, would you not? I am here on missionary work, and my business is with the people. The monastery grounds will suit me better.” “Looking at it in that light,” said he, “you’re right. I’ll say no more.” I knew that in the home of a French official I should have no visitors at all.

He was the son of an English Wesleyan minister; but, being a wild lad, he had wandered away and drifted into the French army, where he rose to an official position. But the influences of his early days had not been lost. We had many heart-to-heart talks together. He wanted an English Bible. Having only my “Oxford” along, I could not spare him that, but brought him one on my next tour. On Sunday he attended the service led by the elders, pleased at the evidence they gave of the reality of our missionary work. He had six thousand Kamus in his district.

The opium habit is very common. We found but few monasteries in the Sipsawng Pannā whose abbots and monks did not use opium. One man, when asked whether he used it, made a significant answer: “When I have money, I do. When I have none, I don’t.”

The Chao Fā of Mûang Sing was busy preparing for the marriage of his daughter with a son of the great Chao Fā of Chieng Rung. So I did not see much of him. I had a long talk, however, with the prospective groom. He doubted the possibility of pardon for sin. I had several interviews with Dr. McKean’s patient for calculus, before mentioned. He was not so near Christianity as I hoped to find him, but was profuse in praise of the doctor and the hospital. He had two wives before the operation, and now was utilizing his new lease of life by taking another younger one. I saw here some peaches not quite ripe—which was very tantalizing. But I did get some ripe plums.

When I left Mûang Sing on April 28th, Mr. Eva escorted me six miles on my way, and we bade each other good-bye four or five times before we could finally part. At Wieng Pūkā I had another warm welcome from the French Commissaire. I had to decline his invitation, also, to good quarters with him; but dined with him at night, and next morning he sent me a nice shoulder of beef. A large number of Kamus were here engaged on some public works. Unlike most of their tribe, these are Buddhists, and there were a number who could read, and who were delighted to get books. It was remarkable that their women spoke Lāo fairly well. Their chief officer had eighteen hundred men under him. After talking with them till near midnight, I turned them over to the elders, and was soon asleep. Next morning my cook came to my tent to enquire whether I were not ill. It was half-past six, and breakfast was ready!

We passed many Kamu villages in this portion of our route. Most of them would welcome a missionary, and seemed ripe for the Gospel. Formerly, under the government of Nān, they had an easy time, with no taxes and almost voluntary service. Now they naturally complained of the stricter régime of the French. I consoled them with the fact that the world over people have to pay taxes to the government that protects them. For this I did not at all need the warning which Mr. Eva gave me, that the one thing which the French would not tolerate was interference with their government work. At Chieng Kawng I took leave of French territory, with nothing but feelings of gratitude for the uniform personal kindness of their officials, and their apparently kind interest in our work. That work I must now dismiss with the very brief outline I have given. I believe that light was conveyed to many seekers after truth, and seed was sown which will not be lost.

From Chieng Kawng onwards I was on old touring ground, and among friends. I spent a Sunday there, made a short visit to the Mūsô hills, and found a warm welcome in Chieng Rāi from the two missionary families who were now established in that station, as well as from my many native friends. Here I received my long-desired mail. Its good cheer was tempered by one sad piece of news—the death of my sister Mary and my brother Evander, the last of my own mother’s children. On May 16th I entered upon my own three-score and tenth year. Leaving Chieng Rāi on the 18th, I reached home on the 26th, after an absence of four and a half months.

Meanwhile the work in our own and in all the other stations had been energetically prosecuted by a faithful band of younger workers, better prepared than the old ones to carry it on to completion. And the other long tour to the English territory, planned for the later portion of the year, was successfully carried out by Dr. Briggs, Rev. Mr. Dodd, and Rev. Mr. Irwin.

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XXXIV

THE CLOSED DOOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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