Chapter 9.
Five years only had elapsed since the commencement of settled missionary work in Shansi, at the end of the terrible famine. The period, though brief, had been one of encouraging progress.
In the spring of 1878, when David Hill and his fellow workers first reached the province, there was not one Protestant Christian, and scarcely even an inquirer among all its millions of people. In the summer of 1883, the fourth year after Hsi’s conversion, there were already two stations at important centers, from which varied work was being carried on; two little churches had been formed, numbering some scores of believers, and the inquirers waiting to be received were many. In the northern city T’ai-yüan, the capital of the province, a strong medical mission was in progress, attracting patients from a radius of two hundred English miles. Some thousands of people were under treatment annually, and the acknowledged skill of the foreign physician, Dr. Harold Schofield, was winning friends far and near. At P’ing-yang, a week’s journey southward, the zeal and devotion of the converts had so spread a knowledge of the Gospel that Christians were to be found in scattered hamlets fully forty miles apart.
The work of the missionaries had been thorough and far reaching. Dividing the province between them, they had visited every one of its more than eighty governing cities, preaching freely in the streets and tea shops, selling large numbers of Scripture portions, and distributing tracts from house to house, stamped with the address of the nearest place at which further information could be obtained. Many of these silent messengers had been carried to outlying villages and country homesteads, and, as in the case of Fan, had been seed sown on good ground.
It was a time of progress and development in missionary work all over inland China. Seven years before, in September 1876, the signing of the Chefoo Convention had thrown open the whole interior to the Gospel. Members of the China Inland Mission, ready and waiting for this opportunity, set off at once for the far interior; Traveling within three years thirty thousand miles on pioneer journeys, and preaching Christ for the first time in regions the most remote and inaccessible. Their work had been attended with blessing, and as in Shansi, settled stations were beginning to spring up and little churches to be established in provinces hitherto wholly unevangelised.
But in this new, much needed movement men were not the only pioneers: women also, young and old, married and unmarried, had borne a heroic part — from the white-haired lady who with one girl companion was the first to travel unescorted, save by native Christians, to the far northwest; to the bride who left Shanghai on her wedding day, to live and die among the women of provinces bordering on Burmah and Thibet. It cost much, but it was not in vain. Already, in the far interior, many women as well as men had been drawn to the uplifted Saviour, and were living to love Him and to make Him known.
So rapid had been the growth of the work that in all the new stations thus established by the Inland Mission reinforcements were sorely needed to enter widely open doors.
Thus, early in 1882, definite prayer was commenced throughout the Mission for at least seventy new workers to be sent out within the next three years. “Other seventy also.” They were needed, and they were given. And the prayer that went up from all the stations, and was so remarkably answered, did not a little to deepen the spiritual life of the missionaries in their isolation, and of the converts by whom they had come to be surrounded.
This was the movement into which, at his conversion, Hsi had been brought; and though unconscious of the wider issue, reaching out to distant provinces, he shared the spirit and the faith that aimed at nothing less than bringing the Gospel within reach of “every creature” throughout inland China.
Though largely independent by force of circumstances, he was a member of the church at P’inang, and his work was officially connected with that station. He still went over as often as possible on Sundays, and was never absent from the Counion services.
But the great occasion that gathered all the Christians at P’ing-yang was the unique “quarterly meeting” held in the old mission house in that city. It was a delightful institution, and did much to mold the life of the growing church. Then Hsi would come in from his village, bringing a band of Christians on fire with devotion like his own; and Fan from the Refuge, with his saved opium smokers and fellow-workers — Liu of So-pu, Song, Chang, and all the rest. Singing as they tramped the long day’s road across the plain or over the mountains, little companies gathered from many a village and hamlet, growing in numbers as they neared the city wall. And then what greetings when the mission house was reached, and evening brought the last familiar faces to complete the circle.
Too numerous to crowd into the chaff or of the house, they cheerfully took possession of the open courtyards and made themselves at home. Supplied in many cases with their own bedding and provisions, they settled down, the men in one court and the women in another, hospitably cared for by the missionary household. For the meetings a large awning was stretched across the inner courtyard on poles of strong bamboo. Stools and benches filled this spacious auditorium, where the baptistery also was placed; and the raised ledge or pathway all round, on which the dwelling-rooms opened, formed a platform for the speakers at one end and a sheltered place for women who wished to be out of sight at the other.
It was a scene full of animation and color, for the company included old and young, scholars, merchants, farmers, country and city women, and children gay in their best attire. The quaint carved woodwork of the mission house, with overhanging balconies and eaves, supplied a shadowy background for the pleasant picture.
Especially at midsummer the conference was attractive and picturesque. For then the oleanders were in flower and the courtyards bright with tinted garments and fans of all sorts and colors were the order of the day. Here and there a white-haired grandfather broke the ranks of black heads or shaven faces, adding dignity to the occasion and receiving the respect of all.
Picture one such near the speaker, with a fine old wrinkled face, white beard, and scanty queue. Heavy spectacles mounted in brass, with big round glasses, rest upon his nose. A bright green spectacle case with rainbow colored tassels, a tooth pick and moustache comb, an embroidered scent sachet, and other trifles hang from the buttons on his shoulder. A long white muslin gown, blue silk trousers, and black satin shoes indicate the prosperity of his worldly affairs. And carefully laid on a colored handkerchief across his knee is a large volume of the New Testament, bound in red, over which he is thoughtfully bending, a gaily painted fan in his hand.
Very memorable were the meetings of those early days, with their atmosphere of love and zeal and their abounding hopefulness. All sorts of questions came under consideration, from matters of church discipline and the reception of new members down to engagements and marriages among the Christians and the conduct of daily affairs at home. But best of all were the Communion services that always followed the baptisms, when young believers gathered for the first time around the table of the Lord. On summer evenings, in the cool and stillness, these hours were specially impressive. Above the silent courtyard the matting was rolled back, and hanging lanterns here and there revealed bowed heads and radiant faces, while far overhead the stars shone out against a cloudless sky.
To Hsi and his immediate family the quarterly meeting of April 1883 was of unusual interest, for on that occasion his wife and Mrs. Liang her mother, as well as his aged stepmother, were to be baptized. Never before had such an event taken place in the whole province of Shansi. Among the earlier members of the little church were a few, a very few, women. But all of them belonged to the poorer classes, and the fact of their baptism had not attracted much attention. The present case was very different. For the wife and mother of a scholar, an ex-Confucian gentleman, to leave the seclusion of their home, and be openly seen in the city, joining in the rites of the strange foreign religion — this was an event indeed.
To the ladies themselves it involved no little self-denial. Accustomed to the secluded life of women of their position, whose only contact with the outside world is through the men to whom they belong, a journey of even ten miles to the city was a serious undertaking. And then, there is no denying it, the ceremony of baptism by immersion is to the Chinese Christian, man or woman, a severe ordeal. For that very reason it has an added value. It makes confession of faith in Christ so much more real and definite, and draws a clear line of demarcation between inquirers and members of the Church. It costs something; but “for Jesus’ sake” makes it well worthwhile.
Mrs. Hsi and her mother-in-law had been Christians for some time before they could decide to take this open stand for the Master; and it was a great comfort to them that Mrs. Fan from the Refuge was to be baptized on the same occasion. How strange would seem the long day’s journey across the plain, ending in the city streets, the mission home, the welcome from their foreign friends and introduction to so many fellow believers whom they had never seen. Yes, Mrs. Fan was there, and Mrs. Liu from So-pu, and not a few beside whose hearts warmed at the sight of the scholar’s wife and mother, for among them all Hsi’s name was a household word.
“I am only a feeble old woman, over seventy years of age,” responded Mrs. Hsi to the greetings that assailed her. “It has truly been a difficult undertaking; but I could not stay away. At my age, life is uncertain. And how could I be willing to depart without having confessed my Lord Jesus before men?”
Another reason for the joy of this occasion was a recent answer to prayer in connection with annoyances that Hsi himself had suffered. For some time past efforts had been made by the literary men of the district to force him to abandon his faith in Christ, or at any rate to be much more reticent about it. The persecution culminated in a successful appeal to the Chancellor of the University to degrade the Christian from his rank of “Cultured Talent,” or in other words to take away his B.A. degree. This was a terrible disgrace for every member of the family, and Hsi felt it keenly, in spite of the manifest injustice of the decision. But when reasoned with the Chancellor merely replied that he could have his degree again if he wished it; naming a sum of money beyond his means to afford even had he been willing to resort to such an expedient.
There was nothing to be done, as bribery was out of the question, and Hsi would not go to law in his own interest. But it was far from easy for a man of his prominent position, and naturally imperious temper, to submit patiently to public injustice and ridicule. But prayer was made for him continually, and he was helped to bear the trial in a Christian spirit.
The missionaries did not think it wise to interfere from the point of view of treaty rights, but Mr. Drake felt free to lay the facts before the provincial Governor, who might or might not take action in the matter. As it happened, the Governor was interested, and sent instructions to the Chancellor to promptly reverse his decree. For a time the Chancellor took no notice, and it seemed as though the illegal action would stand. Finally, however, he thought better of it, and the degree was restored with honor. This happy conclusion called forth much thanksgiving, and was felt by all who understood the working of such affairs to be a remarkable answer to prayer.
It was about this time, before the lamented death of Dr. Schofield, that Hsi went up to the capital to see something of the missionaries, tidings of whose work had reached his distant home. The visit was brief but memorable, for it was his first introduction to anything like a foreign community. Even in those days missionary operations were considerably developed in T’ai-yüan. Two societies were represented by quite a staff of foreigners (six or eight households) engaged in education and the production of literature, as well as in medical and evangelistic work. All this was a revelation to the Christian scholar from the south of the province, and helped to broaden his horizon.
But the members of the church were few in the provincial capital, and not accustomed to just the type of spiritual life and power with which Hsi was familiar. The experiences he spoke of were a stimulus to their faith and no small encouragement to the missionaries as well.
Among the Christians up there at the time of Hsi’s visit was one old lady, with whom he would feel thoroughly at home. As in the case of his own wife and mother, her baptism had been long delayed, and from a cause that must have specially appealed to him.
Converted a year or two before, her love and faith and the consistency of her Christian life were undoubted. And yet she never asked to be received into the Church, and seemed distressed when the subject of baptism was mentioned. This puzzled the missionary ladies, who could not think of any reason why Mrs. Han should hold back.
At length in a quiet talk one day the old lady unburdened her heart.
“Alas,” she said wistfully, “if only I could be a true follower of Jesus, and be baptized.”
“And why not?” questioned the missionary, much interested. “Is there anything to hold you back?”
“Me? Why of course there is,” exclaimed the visitor sadly. “How could I be His true disciple? I could never accomplish the work.”
“But what work?” said her friend kindly. “Did not Jesus do it all?”
“Oh yes! and I do love Him, and am trusting Him alone for salvation. But I know that the Lord Jesus said that His disciples were to go into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature. Alas, I am not able to do that.
“I do love to tell of Him,” she went on as her missionary friend seemed for the moment unable to reply. “I have told my son and his wife, and all our neighbors, and in the summer time I can go to several villages near at hand. Oh, I am not afraid to tell of Jesus! It is not that.
“But I am old and very feeble. I cannot read. My eyes are growing dim. And I can only walk a little way. You see it is impossible for me to to foreign countries and preach the Gospel. If you had come earlier, when I was young — but now it is too late. I cannot be His disciple.”
With a full heart the missionary explained the meaning of the Saviour’s words, and spoke of His perfect sympathy and keen appreciation of every act prompted by love to Him. He knew about the widow’s offering; and said of another who was not able to serve Him much, “She hath done what she could.”
“What she could.” Was that what it meant? Oh, then, it might be after all! And the dear old lady could hardly wait till the following Sunday to be baptized. Full of joy in her new privilege, she was one of the brightest members of the little church, and her earnestness in doing what she could was a frequent incentive to others.
At the close of Hsi’s stay in the capital an incident occurred that caused him much exercise of mind, and ended sadly.
While Dr. Schofield was seeing patients one day, a young woman was brought to the hospital suffering from what her husband described as “an evil spirit.” The doctor went into the matter carefully, but could find no physical explanation of the distressing symptoms. She seemed wholly given up to evil; and the violence of the paroxysms into which she was thrown was so great that life itself was imperiled.
After prescribing what he hoped might help her, the doctor, who had other patients waiting to be seen, suggested that Hsi of P’ing-yang, who was still in the city, should be invited to visit their home.
Thankful for any ray of hope, the husband went to Hsi with his sad story, imploring him to come and do what he could to deliver the household from misery.
To Hsi the duty was most painful. If there was one thing more than another from which he naturally recoiled, it was contact with just such cases. He knew how real and terrible can be the power of evil spirits, and their conscious presence under such circumstances, The look in the eyes of the miserable victim is often enough to make one shudder, and the convulsive movements and fiendish utterances inspire a horror that can hardly be expressed. But difficult as it was he dared not shirk the duty, and with a heart that cried to God all the way, he followed the young man, who quickly led him to the house.
There was no mistaking the excitement and confusion that prevailed on their arrival. The girl was in one of her terrible seizures, and had to be held down by half-a-dozen neighbors to prevent injury to herself and those around her. Calling the family together, Hsi briefly explained that he, like themselves, could do nothing, but that the God he worshipped was the living God, who could perfectly heal and deliver. They listened with apparent interest while he told the wonderful story of the Saviour’s love, and were willing to take down their idols then and there, if only he would pray for them that their trouble might be removed and their sins forgiven.
After public prayer for God’s blessing, Hsi was taken to the room from which the cries and confusion proceeded. Immediately he entered, there was a lull. The girl saw him, ceased struggling, and in a quiet, respectful way asked him to take a seat.
Astonished, the onlookers cried at once that the spirits had left her.
“No,” answered Hsi, who could tell from her eyes that something was wrong, “she is as yet no better. The devil is merely trying to deceive us.”
The girl was still friendly, and tried to make the polite remarks usually addressed to strangers; but Hsi went over, and laying his hands on her head, simply and earnestly prayed in the name of Jesus, and commanded the evil spirits at once to come out of her.
Suddenly, while he was still praying, she sprang to her feet with a terrible cry, rushed out into the courtyard, and fell to the ground unconscious and to all appearances dying.
“Alas, she is dead! You have killed her now!” cried the startled friends.
But Hsi quietly raised her. “Do not be alarmed,” he said. “The spirits are gone. She will soon be all right.”
Recovering in a little while from what seemed a heavy swoon, the young woman came to herself, and was soon restored to a perfectly normal condition.
For some time the husband, full of gratitude, attended the services at the mission chapel and made a halfhearted profession of Christianity; but sad to say it was not the real thing with him or any of the family. As long as Hsi remained he went now and again to see him, carrying some little present to express indebtedness and thanks.
At last one morning he returned from such a visit bringing with him a packet of confectionery that was meant for Hsi.
“Why have you brought back the present?” cried his wife as he entered the courtyard.
“The scholar has left the city,” he replied, “and is on his way home to the south of the province.”
Scarcely were the words spoken when the poor girl relapsed into the old condition. In the midst of most terrible convulsions, foul language and blasphemies streamed from her lips. She seemed possessed by a more fearful power of evil than before.
“He is gone; he is gone!” she cried. “Now I fear no one. Let them bring their Jesus. I defy them all. They will never drive us out again, never.”
This continued for a few terrible days, until, exhausted by the strain, she died.