Read Ebook: How The Raven Died 1902 From Wolfville Nights by Lewis Alfred Henry

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At the first morning service the church was crowded to its utmost capacity. Some came, no doubt, from curiosity to hear the new preacher; but most of them were hungry for the Gospel. They had all known my father; and some had known me--or known of me--from boyhood. I could not have had a more sympathetic audience, as I learned from the words of appreciation and encouragement spoken to me after church--especially those spoken by my brother, who was present.

The year passed rapidly. The work had prospered and was delightful. In it I formed the taste for evangelistic touring, which was afterwards to be my work among the L?o. There had been a number of accessions in both churches. It was easy to become engrossed in one's first charge among a people so sympathetic, and to overlook far-away Siam. Indeed, I had become so far influenced by present surroundings as to allow my name to be laid before a meeting of the congregation with a view to becoming their permanent pastor. Their choice of me was unanimous. Moreover, I had been dismissed from my old Presbytery to the one within whose bounds my parish was. The regular meeting of the latter was not far off, when arrangements were to be made for my ordination and installation.

As the time drew near, do what I might, my joy in accepting the call seemed marred by the thought of Siam. I learned that the Siamese Mission, instead of growing stronger, was becoming weaker. Mr. Morse's health had completely broken down during his first year in the field. He was then returning to the United States. Mrs. Mattoon had already come back an invalid. Her husband, after ten years in Siam, was greatly in need of a change; but was holding on in desperation, hoping against hope that he might be relieved.

Next morning I stopped my chief elder on his way to church, and informed him of my decision. After listening to my statement of the case, he replied, "Of course, if it is settled, there's nothing more to be said." It chanced that Mr. Russell, my former assistant in the Pittsboro Academy, had just finished his theological course; and, wholly without reference to the question pending in my mind, had arranged to preach for me that day. The session was called together before service, was notified of my decision, and was reminded that the preacher of the day would be available as a successor to me. He preached a good sermon, had a conference with the session afterwards, and was virtually engaged that day. The following week brought notice of my appointment as missionary to Siam.

The last communion season of that year was one of more than usual interest. The meetings began on Friday. Since the minds of the congregation were already on the subject of foreign missions, and since Dr. McKay, from my home church, had been appointed by the Synod to preach on that subject at its coming session in Charlotte, I prevailed upon him to preach to us the sermon that he had prepared. The text was from Romans x:14, "How shall they hear without a preacher?" No subject could have been more appropriate to the occasion. It produced a profound impression. Some were affected to tears.

The sermon was a good preparation for the communion service that followed. At the night service there was deep seriousness throughout the congregation, and a general desire to have the meetings continued. On Monday there was an unexpectedly large congregation. At the busiest season of the year farmers had left their crops to come. The meetings soon grew to be one protracted prayer-meeting, with occasional short applications of Scripture to the questions which were already pressing upon our minds.

Finally, after the meetings had been continued from Friday until Wednesday week, they were reluctantly brought to a close; both because it seemed unwise to interrupt longer the regular life of the community, and also because the leaders no longer had the voice to carry them on. As a result of the meetings, there were about eighty accessions to the two Presbyterian churches, as well as a number to other churches. Many asked if I did not see in the revival reason to change my mind and remain. But the effect on me was just the opposite. It was surely the best preparation I could have had for the long test of faith while waiting for results in Siam.

Inasmuch as my certificate of dismissal had never been formally presented to the Fayetteville Presbytery, I preferred to return it to my old Orange Presbytery, and to receive my ordination at its hands. On December 11th, the Presbytery met at my old home in Pittsboro. The installation of a foreign missionary was new to the Presbytery, as well as to the church and the community. When the ordaining prayer was ended, there seemed to be but few dry eyes in the congregation. It was a day I had little dreamed of sixteen years before, when I first came to Pittsboro an orphan boy and an apprentice. I felt very small for the great work so solemnly committed to me. Missionary fields were further off in those days than they are now, and the undertaking seemed greater. The future was unknown; but in God was my trust--and He has led me.

BANGKOK

Sailors have a tradition that it is unlucky to have missionaries on board; but the weather was propitious throughout, and the voyage a prosperous one. We three were the only passengers, and we proved to be good sailors. Our fare was reasonably good. We had plenty of good reading, and soon settled down to steady work. The ship was somewhat undermanned; and this fact was given as an excuse for not having service on Sundays. But we had a daily prayer-meeting throughout the voyage, with just a sufficient number present to plead the promise: "Where two or three are gathered together in my name." We also had free access to the men in the forecastle when off duty.

We had the excitement of an ocean race with a twin ship of the same line, which was to sail a week after us. As we reached Anjer Straits on the seventy-eighth day out, a sail loomed up which proved to be our competitor. She had beaten us by a week! Ten days later we reached Singapore, where, indeed, we met no brethren, but were met by welcome letters from Siam. Like Paul at the Three Taverns, "we thanked God and took courage." One of the letters ran thus:

"Those were good words that came to our half-discouraged band--the tidings that we are to have helpers in our work.... In our loneliness we have sometimes been tempted to feel that our brethren at home had forgotten us. But we rejoice to know that there are hearts in the church which sympathize with us, and that you are willing to come and participate with us in our labours and trials, our joys and sorrows, for we have both."

Fifty years' residence in Siam has not surpassed the romance of that night's ride. Leaving our goods behind, we seated ourselves in the tiny craft. With gunwales but two inches above the water's edge, we skimmed along through a narrow winding canal overhung with strange tropical trees. The moon was full, but there was a haze in the air, adding weirdness to things but dimly seen. The sight of our first Buddhist monastery, with its white columns and grotesque figures, made us feel as if we were passing through some fairyland.

The Rev. Mr. Mattoon was still at his post, awaiting our coming. Mrs. Mattoon and her daughters had been compelled to leave for home some time before our arrival. And not long thereafter Mr. Mattoon followed them on his furlough, long overdue. Besides the two men of our own mission, we found in Bangkok the Rev. Dan B. Bradley, M.D., who was conducting a self-supporting mission; Rev. S. J. Smith, and Rev. R. Telford of the Baptist mission.

Since neither Bangkok nor Lower Siam proved to be my permanent home, I shall content myself with a very summary account of the events of the next three years.

Footnote 2:

The first exercise of the Siamese Spelling-book.

In the mission school there was a class of bright boys named N?, Dit, Ch?n, Kw?i, Henry, and one girl, T?an. To my great delight, Dr. House kindly turned them over to me. It made me think I was doing something, and I really was. I soon became deeply interested in these children. N? grew to be an important business man and an elder in the church; T?an's family became one of the most influential in the church. Her two sons, the late Bun It and Elder Bun Y? of the First Church in Chiengmai, have been among the very best fruits of the mission; though my personal share in their training was, of course, very slight. In the September after our arrival there was organized the Presbytery of Siam, with the four men of the mission as its constituent members. During the first two years, moreover, I made a number of tours about the country--sometimes alone, oftener with Dr. House, and once with Mr. Wilson.

I had the pleasure of meeting His Majesty the King of Siam, not only at his birthday celebrations, to which foreigners were invited, but once, also, at a public audience on the occasion of the presentation of a letter from President James Buchanan of the United States. This was through the courtesy of Mr. J. H. Chandler, the acting United States Consul. Two royal state barges were sent down to the Consulate to receive the President's letter and the consular party. Siamese etiquette requires that the letter be accorded the same honour as would be given the President in person. In the first barge was the letter, placed in a large golden urn, with a pyramidal cover of gold, and escorted by the four officers who attend upon His Majesty when he appears in public. In the second barge was the consular party.

After a magnificent ride of four miles up the river, we were met at the palace by gilded palanquins for the members of the party, while the letter, in a special palanquin and under the golden umbrella, led the way to the Palace, some quarter of a mile distant. At the Palace gate a prince of rank met us, and ushered us into the royal presence, where His Majesty sat on his throne of gold, richly overhung with gilded tapestry. Advancing toward the throne, and bowing low, we took our stand erect, while every high prince and nobleman about us was on bended knees, not daring to raise his eyes above the floor.

The Consul then read a short introductory speech, stepped forward, and placed the letter in the extended hands of the King. Having glanced over it, the King handed it to his secretary, who read it aloud, His Majesty translating the substance of it to the princes and nobles present. The King then arose, put his scarf about his waist, girded on his golden sword, came down, and shook hands with each of the party. Then, with a wave of his hand, he said, "We have given President Buchanan the first public reception in our new palace," adding, "I honour President Buchanan very much." He escorted the party around the room, showing us the portraits of George Washington, President Pierce, Queen Victoria, and Prince Albert. Then, turning to the proper officer, he directed him to conduct us to an adjoining room to partake of a luncheon prepared for us; and, with a bow, withdrew.

After "tiffin," we were escorted to the landing as we had come, and returned in like state in the royal barge to the Consulate. Altogether it was a notable occasion.

Of the tours undertaken in Lower Siam, the one which led to the most lasting results was one in 1859 to Pechabur?, which has since become well known as one of our mission stations. For companion on this trip I had Cornelius Bradley, son of the Rev. Dr. Bradley of Bangkok. Shortly before this a rising young nobleman, and a liberal-minded friend of foreigners, had been assigned to the place ostensibly of lieutenant-governor of Pechabur?, but practically of governor. He was a brother of the future Regent; had been on the first embassy to England; and at a later period became Minister for Foreign Affairs. At our call, His Excellency received us very kindly, and before we left invited us to dine with him on the following evening.

The dinner was one that would have done credit to any hostess in America. I was still more surprised when, at the table, addressing me by a title then given to all missionaries, he said, "Maw" , "I want you to come and live in Pechabur?. You have no family. I will furnish you a house, and give you every assistance you need. You can teach as much Christianity as you please, if only you will teach my son English. If you want a school, I will see that you have pupils." I thanked him for the offer, but could only tell him that I would think the matter over. It might be, after all, only a Siamese cheap compliment. It seemed too good to be true. It was, however, directly in the line of my own thoughts. I had come to Siam with the idea of leaving the great commercial centres, and making the experiment among a rural population like that of my North Carolina charge.

Footnote 3:

A public rest-house or shelter, such as Buddhist piety provides everywhere for travellers, but especially in connection with the monasteries.

I returned to Bangkok full of enthusiasm for Pechabur?. The more I pondered it, the greater the offer seemed to be. Beyond my predilection for a smaller city or for rural work, I actually did not like Bangkok. Pechabur?, however, was beyond the limits of treaty rights. Permission to establish a station there could be had only by sufferance from a government not hitherto noted for liberality. Here was an invitation equivalent to a royal permit, and with no further red tape about it. I could see only one obstacle in the way. The senior member of the mission--the one who was naturally its head--I feared would not approve. And he did, indeed, look askance at the proposition. He doubted whether we could trust the promises made. And then to go so far away alone! But I thought I knew human nature well enough to trust that man. As to being alone, I was willing to risk that. Possibly it might not be best to ride a free horse too freely. I would go with my own equipment, and be at least semi-independent; though the Palat had said that he did not mind the expense, if only he could get his son taught English.

There could at least be no objection to making an experimental visit, and then continuing it as long as might seem wise. Pechabur? is within thirty hours of Bangkok. If taken sick, I could run over in a day or two. With that understanding, and with the tacit rather than the expressed sanction of the mission, I began to make preparations.

At last my preparations were complete, even to baking bread for the trip. I had fitted up a touring-boat of my own, and had engaged captain and boatmen; when, on the day before I was to start, cholera, which for some time had been sporadic in Bangkok, suddenly became epidemic. Till then Dr. James Campbell, physician to the British Consulate, and our medical authority, thought that with caution and prudence I might safely go. A general panic now arose all over the land. Dr. Bradley came to tell me that deaths were occurring hourly on the canal by which I was to travel. To go then would be to tempt providence. I had earnestly sought direction, and it came in a way little expected.

Meanwhile her little daughter Harriet was also taken ill, and for a time the life of both mother and daughter was in suspense. The child lingered on till May 13th, when she was taken to a better clime. On July 14th the mother, too, ceased from her suffering, and entered on her everlasting rest.

During these months, of course, all thoughts of Pechabur? had been abandoned; nor would it then have been deemed wise to travel during the wet season. Before the next dry season came, Bangkok began to have more attractions, and I had become less ambitious to start a new station alone. On the 11th of September I became engaged to Miss Sophia Royce Bradley, daughter of the Rev. D. B. Bradley, M.D. On December 6th, 1860, we were married. In my wife I found a helpmeet of great executive ability, and admirably qualified for the diversified work before us. It was something, too, to have inherited the best traditions of one of the grand missionaries of his age.

Footnote 4:

Dr. Bradley's life would be the best history we could have of Siam during its transition period. He left a voluminous diary, and it was from his pen that most of the exact information concerning Siam was long derived.

Samr?, our mission station in Bangkok, was four miles distant from the heart of the city. We greatly needed a more central station for our work. Dr. Bradley offered us the use of a house on his own premises--one of the most desirable situations in Bangkok--if we would come and live there. The mission accepted his generous offer. With reluctance I resigned whatever claim I might have to be the pioneer of the new station at Pechabur?. We were settled, as it would seem, for life, in Bangkok.

PECHABUR?--THE CALL OF THE NORTH

Our friend, the Pra Palat, seemed pleased that we had come, after all. His slight knowledge of English had been learned as a private pupil from Mrs. McGilvary's own mother. He was glad, whenever he had leisure, to continue his studies with Mrs. McGilvary. Mr. McFarland preferred school work. He took the son that I was to have taught, and left me untrammelled to enter upon evangelistic work. The half-hour after each evening meal we spent in united prayer for guidance and success. Two servants of each family were selected as special subjects of prayer; and these, in due time, we had the pleasure of welcoming into the church.

Of the incidents of our Pechabur? life I have room for but a single one. As we were rising from the dinner-table one Sunday shortly after our arrival, we were surprised to see a man coming up the steps and crossing the veranda in haste, as if on a special errand. He led by the hand a little boy of ten or twelve years, and said, "I want to commit this son of mine into your care. I want you to teach him." Struck by his earnest manner, we drew from him these facts: He was a farmer named N?i Kawn, living some five miles out in the country. He had just heard of our arrival, had come immediately, and was very glad to find us.

We asked whether he had ever met a missionary before. No, he said, but his father--since dead--had once met Dr. Bradley, and had received a book from him. He had begged other books from neighbours who had received them but did not value them. Neither did he at first, till the great cholera scourge of 1849, when people were dying all around him. He was greatly alarmed, and learned from one of the books that Pra Y?s? heard prayer in trouble, and could save from sin. For a long time he prayed for light, until, about three years ago, he believed in Jesus, and was now happy in heart. He had heard once of Dr. Bradley's coming to Pechabur?, but not until he was gone again. He preached to his neighbours, who called him "Kon Pra Y?s?" . He had prayed for Dr. Bradley and the missionaries; he had read the story of Moses, the Epistle to the Romans, the Gospel of John, a tract on Prayer, and "The Golden Balance"; and he believed them. He could repeat portions of Romans and John verbatim; and he had his son repeat the Lord's Prayer.

My subject at the afternoon service was Nicodemus and the New Birth. N?i Kawn sat spellbound, frequently nodding assent. At the close we asked him to speak a few words; which he did with great clearness. On being questioned as to the Trinity, he replied that he was not sure whether he understood it. He gathered, however, that Jehovah was the Father and Ruler; that the Son came to save us by dying for us; and that the Holy Spirit is the Comforter. The difference between Jesus and Buddha is that the latter entered into Nirvana, and that was the last of him; while Jesus lives to save. He even insisted that he had seen a vision of Jesus in heaven. His other experiences were characterized by such marks of soberness that we wondered whether his faith might not have been strengthened by a dream or a vision.

This incident, coming so soon after our arrival, greatly cheered us in our work. His subsequent story is too long to follow out in detail here. His piety and his sincerity were undoubted. He lived and died a Christian; yet he never fully identified himself with the church. He insisted that he had been baptized by the Holy Ghost, and that there was no need of further baptism. Not long after this Dr. Bradley and Mr. Mattoon visited Pechabur?, examined the man, and were equally surprised at his history.

What changed our life-work from the Siamese to the L?o? There were two principal causes. The various L?o states which are now a part of Siam, were then ruled by feudal princes, each virtually sovereign within his own dominions, but all required to pay a triennial visit to the Siamese capital, bringing the customary gifts to their suzerain, the King of Siam, and renewing their oath of allegiance to him. Their realms served, moreover, as a "buffer" between Siam and Burma. There were six of these feudal principalities. Five of them occupied the basins of five chief tributaries of the M?nam River; namely--in order from west to east--Chiengmai, Lamp?n, Lakawn, Pr?, and N?n. The sixth was L?ang Prab?ng on the M? K?ng River. The rapids on all these streams had served as an effectual barrier in keeping the northern and the southern states quite separate. There was no very frequent communication in trade. There was no mail communication. Official despatches were passed along from one governor to the next. Very little was known in Bangkok about the L?o provinces of the north. A trip from Bangkok to Chiengmai seemed then like going out of the world. Only one Englishman, Sir Robert Schomburgk of the British Consulate in Bangkok, had ever made it.

Of these L?o states, Chiengmai was the most important. After it came N?n, then L?ang Prab?ng , Lakawn, Pr?, and Lamp?n. The L?o people were regarded in Siam as a very warlike race; one chieftain in particular being famed as a great warrior. They were withal said to be suspicious and unreliable.

Almost the only visible result of my six months' stay within the city of Bangkok, after my marriage, was the formation of a slight acquaintance with the Prince of Chiengmai and his family. Just before my marriage he had arrived in Bangkok with a great flotilla of boats and a great retinue of attendants. The grounds of Wat Ch?ng monastery, near to Dr. Bradley's compound, had always been their stopping-place. The consequence was that, of all the missionaries, Dr. Bradley had become best acquainted with them and most deeply interested in them. He earnestly cultivated their friendship, invited them to his printing-office and to his house, and continually preached unto them the Gospel. They were much interested in vaccination, which he had introduced, and were delighted to find that it protected them from smallpox.

The day after our marriage, in response to a present of some wedding cake, the Prince himself, with his two daughters and a large train of attendants, called on us in our new home. This was my first introduction to Chao K?wil?rot and his family, who were to play so important a r?le in my future life. All that I saw of him and of his people interested me greatly. During the short time we remained in their neighbourhood, I made frequent visits to the L?o camp. The subject of a mission in Chiengmai was talked of, with apparent approval on the part of the Prince. My interest in Pechabur? was increased by the knowledge that there was a large colony of L?o there. These were captives of war from the region of Kh?r?t, bearing no very close resemblance to our later parishioners in the north. At the time of our stay in Pechabur?, the L?o in that province were held as government slaves, engaged all day on various public works--a circumstance which greatly impeded our access to them, and at the same time made it more difficult for them to embrace Christianity. Neither they nor we dared apply to the government for the requisite sanction, lest thereby their case be made worse. Our best opportunity for work among them was at night. My most pleasant memories of Pechabur? cluster about scenes in L?o villages, when the whole population would assemble, either around a camp-fire or under the bright light of the moon, to listen till late in the night to the word of God. The conversion of N?i Ang, the first one from that colony, anticipated that of N?n Inta, and the larger ingathering in the North.

Footnote 5:

The application of this name is by no means uniform throughout the peninsula. From L?ang Prab?ng southward along the eastern frontier, the tribes of that stock call themselves L?o, and are so called by their neighbours. But the central and western groups do not acknowledge the name as theirs at all, but call themselves simply Tai; or if a distinction must be made, they call themselves Kon N?a , and the Siamese, Kon Tai . The Siamese, on the other hand, also call themselves Tai, which is really the race-name, common to all branches of the stock; and they apply the name L?o alike to all their northern cousins except the Ng?o, or Western Shans. Nothing is known of the origin of the name, but the same root no doubt appears in such tribal and geographical names as Law?, Lawa, Law?--the last being the name of the famous abandoned capital now known as Lophburi.--ED.

But there was more than a casual connection between the two. My labours among them increased the desire, already awakened in me, to reach the home of the race. Here was another link in the chain of providences by which I was led to my life-work. The time, however, was not yet ripe. The available force of the mission was not yet large enough to justify further expansion. Moreover, our knowledge of the L?o country was not such as to make possible any comprehensive and intelligent plans for a mission there. The first thing to do was evidently to make a tour of exploration. The way to such a tour was opened in the fall of 1863. The Presbytery of Siam met in Bangkok early in November. I had so arranged my affairs that, if the way should open, I could go north directly, without returning to Pechabur?. I knew that Mr. Wilson was free, and I thought he would favour the trip. This he readily did, and the mission gave its sanction. So I committed my wife and our two-year-old daughter to the care of loving grandparents, and, after a very hasty preparation, we started on the 20th of November in search of far-away Chiengmai.

The six-oared touring-boat which I had fitted up in my bachelor days was well adapted for our purpose as far as the first fork of the M?nam. The Siamese are experts with the oar, but are unused to the setting-pole, which is well-nigh the only resource all through the upper reaches of the river. It was sunset on a Friday evening before we finally got off. But it was a start; and it proved to be one of the straws on which the success of the trip depended. The current against us was very strong; so we slept within the city limits that night. We spent all day Saturday traversing a canal parallel with the river, where the current was weaker. It was sunset before we entered again the main stream, and stopped to spend Sunday at a monastery. To our great surprise we found that the Prince of Chiengmai--of whose coming we had had no intimation--had camped there the night before, and had passed on down to Bangkok that very morning. We had missed him by taking the canal!

We were in doubt whether we ought not to return and get a letter from him. A favourable letter would be invaluable; but he might refuse, or even forbid our going. If we may judge from what we afterwards knew of his suspicious nature, such probably would have been the outcome. At any rate, it would delay us; and we had already a passport from the Siamese government which would ensure our trip. And, doubtless, we did accomplish our design with more freedom because of the Prince's absence from his realm. It was apparently a fortuitous thing that our men knew of the more sluggish channel, and so missed the L?o flotilla. But it is quite possible that upon that choice depended the establishment of the L?o mission.

All went well until we reached the first fork at P?knam P?. There the water came rushing down like a torrent, so swift that oars were of no avail. We tried first one side of the stream and then the other, but all in vain. Our boatmen exchanged their oars for poles. But they were awkward and unaccustomed to their use. The boat would inevitably drift down stream. The poor boatmen laughed despairingly at their own failure. At last a rope was suggested. The men climbed the bank, and dragged the boat around the point to where the current was less swift. But when, as often happened, it became necessary to cross to the other side of the river, the first push off the bank would send us into water so deep that a fifteen-foot pole could not reach bottom. Away would go the boat some hundreds of yards down stream before we could bring up on the opposite bank. We reached Rah?ng, however, in nineteen travelling days--which was not by any means bad time.

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