First Evangelistic Journeys (1854-1855)

Everything had an interest all its own that first night aboard the Chinese one-sail houseboat that was to be their home for a week. Anchored amid a fleet of other boats, they were out among the people at last, as Taylor had so often longed to be. Each boat had its family as well as crew, and cheerful was the clatter that went on while the evening meal was in preparation. Rising before daylight means retiring early, however, and soon the only sound the young missionary heard above the soft lapping of the water was the gong of the night-watchman along the shore. With the turn of the tide after midnight, a stir began on the boats. Anchors were drawn up, sails hoisted, and the junks got under way. But the two travellers slept on to find themselves, on awaking, some forty miles south of Shanghai, within sight of the Fu city? of Sungkiang.

It was here that Hudson Taylor saw, for the first time, a Buddhist recluse. Edkins and he had come to a temple courtyard where a great crowd gathered to gaze at the strange sight of religious teachers in the dress of western lands, and listen to their preaching. The foreigners were giving away books as well, and not until their supply was exhausted did they make a move to pass on. Some of the monks then pressed forward, inviting them to rest awhile in the monastery, and especially to visit the ‘holy man.’ Surrounded by the yellow-robed, shaven-headed priests, the missionaries were escorted to the cell where the poor devotee had been walled up for years. The only access was a small opening left when the wall was in process of building, through which a man could scarcely pass his hand. Edkins spoke to him, and very earnest were their prayers that the ‘glad tidings of great joy,’ heard under these circumstances for the first time, might bring light and salvation to his soul.

In the same city a very different experience awaited them, and one that made them appreciate the eighty-nine stone bridges to be found within its walls. Followed by a noisy rabble as they were seeking their boat, the visitors turned down a side street leading to a landing-stage, which they took to be that of the public ferry. To their dismay it was a private wharf protected by a pair of gates they had hardly noticed in passing. To return by the way they had come was impossible, for the narrow street was filled with an uproarious crowd, who, to prevent escape in that direction, swung to the gates and swarmed all over them, watching between the bars for the next move of the strangers. The position was far from pleasant in an unknown city, with the crowd growing larger and more noisy all the time, and no bridge in sight. But the missionaries quietly looked to the Lord in prayer, and kept their wits about them.

‘There were plenty of boats at hand,’ wrote Hudson Taylor, ‘but none of them would take us. We called to several, to the great amusement of the crowd, but in vain. At length seeing that something must be done I took “French leave”, jumped into a boat that was passing, and pulled it to the side for Mr. Edkins. Taken by surprise the men made no objection, and off we went to the chagrin of our tormentors who opened the gates and rushed to the waterside shouting tumultuously.’

Before leaving the city that night, a second or third supply of literature being all distributed, a turn in the road brought them suddenly on the base of the Square Pagoda. Grey and imposing the massive structure rose before them that for 900 years had been the glory of Sungkiang. The priest in charge consented to admit them, and soon the crowding of the streets gave place to the sombre quiet of the old pagoda and the view to be seen from a gallery near the top.

Long and silently they stood looking down upon the myriad homes outspread before them. Far reached the ancient wall enclosing its hundreds of thousands, and beyond it the tent-like roofs still stretched away towards the setting sun. And this was only one great centre. All about it lay the rich, level country, dotted as far as eye could see with villages and hamlets, while distant pagodas and temples told of other cities within easy reach.

It was the first time Hudson Taylor had looked out on such a scene, and the fact of China’s immense population began to assume new meaning from that hour.

On returning to Shanghai he had to face, with Dr. Parker, extreme perplexity in money matters, for nothing had yet been heard of the missing Letter of Credit. Tidings that new missionaries of the L.M.S. were about to sail for China reminded them that even the premises they now occupied would have to be vacated before long. This it was that gave urgency and definiteness to their consultations, and resulted in several letters setting forth ‘plans of usefulness,’ that for the next few months largely occupied their thoughts.

To begin with, a permanent centre was needed and must be obtained without delay. Of the five Treaty Ports open to the residence of foreigners, none was more suitable than Shanghai—within reach of many important cities, and holding a strategic position with regard to mid- China. In Shanghai, therefore, their eee should be located.

This again necessitated a certain adequacy of method and equipment, they felt, for other missions were there before them, and had established precedents that could not be ignored. Plan as simply as they might, they would at least require a doctor’s house and a school building, in addition to hospital and dispensary. From this central station, their plan was to visit the surrounding country and establish branch-schools and dispensaries wherever possible. These would be regularly supervised by one or other of the missionaries, and would become in their turn centres of Christian effort.

It was all admirable no doubt, and the estimate of £1,000 for land and buildings was not immoderate. But it was based upon conclusions that in their case were misleading, and just because the good is often the enemy of the best, would have thwarted their real life-usefulness, foreordained in the purposes of God. *’

Meanwhile, little as he realised what it foreshadowed, Hudson Taylor found himself unable to disregard the appeal of the unreached. He was working hard at two dialects, arid also: carrying on a school, but the need of the unevangelised regions pressed heavily on him. The ice had been broken: He had been on one evangelistic tour already, and had seen how such work could be done. Perhaps it was this that drew him on? Perhaps it was something deeper, more significant.

At any rate, he set out again, this time without a companion, travelling in a boat he had bought for half its value. A few miles south of Shanghai a tributary stream was reached, leading to a district little known to foreigners. Lying between the Hwangpu River and the coast, the region was one infested with smugglers, and even its larger centres of population had rarely if ever been visited with the Gospel. Travelling on far into the night, however, he was conscious of a Presence that precluded fear, and robbed the unknown of its possible terrors.

Far from promising must have seemed the awakening, however, when they found themselves next morning frozen in between high, snow-covered banks, the water covered with a thick coating of ice, necessitating breaking a channel for the boat a foot at a time.

Slow progress was all that they could make. Accompanied by a servant to carry books, the undeterred young missionary went ashore and walked from hamlet to hamlet. His dress, speech and occupation everywhere aroused the intensest interest, and great was the eagerness to obtain his beautifully bound and printed books.

Two governing cities and a market town were visited on this journey, besides many villages. In reading the journal one is surprised at the thoroughness with which the work was done. Every street in Chwansha was visited, for example, and in each of the suburbs; all the reading men he could find being supplied with gospels and tracts. There was no companion to fall back upon, and unless he preached himself the people might never hear. So looking to the Lord for help, Hudson Taylor made the most of his few sentences, following up long days ashore with hours of medical work and private conversation on the boat at night.

Not until late on February 1st did he return to Shanghai, but once there he promptly gave attention to a matter that was specially on his heart.

A few weeks previously, three men of his acquaintance had been seized in the North Gate house, dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, and handed over as rebels to the local authorities. Upon hearing of it the young missionary had at once sought their release. But though assured that they would soon be at liberty, no charge having been proved against them, the poor fellows were only hurried from prison to prison, everywhere starved and tortured to make them confess alleged crimes. Again and again Hudson Taylor had appealed on their behalf, but as long as there was any chance of extorting money the case seemed hopeless. Now, returning encouraged from his journey, he went once more and to his great joy was successful. The men still lived, and before long he had the satisfaction of seeing them in such comfort as their homes could afford.

But how small a thing it seemed to relieve the sufferings of one group of people amid all the horrors that were going on! Shanghai was in a worse condition than ever, if that were possible. After more than a year of desultory fighting, the Imperial forces seemed roused at length to take the city. A large new camp quite near the Settlement had cut off the last hope of relief on the landward side, and it was only too evident that a wholesale massacre would be the end of the tragedy.

It happened shortly after Hudson Taylor, this time in company with older missionaries, had set out on another preaching tour. The little party had apparently travelled as far as Tsingpu when they saw from the top of a hill the smoke of an immense conflagration. So great a fire in that direction could mean but one thing. Shanghai was in flames! And what of their families in the foreign Settlement?

Setting out at once to return, their apprehensions were confirmed by Rebel soldiers who met them, seeking protection. This the defenceless missionaries were unable to afford; and shortly after the poor fellows were taken and beheaded before their eyes. Silently continuing their journey, they soon came upon abundant traces of the catastrophe that had taken place, and as they passed the native city had to turn away from sights of horror on every hand.

‘Shanghai is now in peace,’ Hudson Taylor wrote on March 4th, ‘but it is like the peace of death. 2,000 people at the very least have perished, and the tortures some of the victims have undergone cannot have been exceeded by the worst barbarities of the Inquisition. The city is little more than a mass of ruins. From the South to the North Gate, on one side only, sixtysix heads and several bodies are exposed by the sanguinary Imperialists, including those of old men with white hair, women and children.’

Thus ended in a holocaust of human lives the sufferings of the siege that had been in progress ever since Hudson Taylor’s arrival in China twelve months previously. But the worst was over, and relieved from the strain of that terrible winter the missionaries looked forward to largely increasing their work. A new Shanghai would soon rise upon the ruins. As far as possible they must purchase land before it was taken up, enlarge their schools, open preaching halls, found hospitals; and take a front rank among the builders of the new time.

The hearts of Hudson Taylor and his colleagues, still anxiously waiting the reply of the Committee, were stirred. Three months had now elapsed, since their plans had been laid before the Society, and communications that had crossed their own had not been encouraging. Meanwhile it was more and more difficult to wait on in uncertainty. The American missionary who shared their little house was building premises of his own, but Dr. Parker’s Letter of Credit had not come, nor did the Society seem to remember that he had any financial needs.

Missionaries, even the most devoted, are only human after all. Some things were said that hardly seem in keeping with Hudson Taylor’s simple faith in God, as may be seen from his letters. In March he wrote to his parents,

You are going to have a fine chapel in Barnsley! I wish some » wealthy friend would send us £1,000 to put up our hospital, school, and other premises, for we are in a shocking position now, with only three rooms to live in. What we are to do when the hot weather comes, I cannot imagine. “ 2

We have written to the Society laying a definite plan before them, and if they do not take it up we mean to try and carry it through without their aid. If they oppose it, as contrary to their principle of not working in the Ports, we must try to have the principle modified. And if they will not alter and we cannot find other better means of working, it may become a question as to which we shall dispense with—the Society, or our plans of usefulness.

But our plans will be formed with prudence, in the fear of the Lord, and not without seeking His direction. But useful we must be, if the Lord bless us, at any cost.

Do you think a bazaar could be got up anywhere, to assist us in the purchase of ground and erection of suitable buildings? If you could get the ladies interested, it would be sure to succeed. The sum we want is really so trifling that a few good collections would soon raise either the whole or the greater part.

But though carried away for the time, he was not allowed to involve himself in responsibilities that would have hindered his life-work. Strangely the currents mingled at this time—one drawing him to the settled life of the Ports, the other carrying him far afield, to regions beyond any that had yet been reached. He could not even wait for the expected reply of the Committee, so eager was he to set out upon another evangelistic journey. The local rebellion was at an end, Dr. Parker needed change from study, their boat was lying in the Creek—was it not just the opportunity for a preaching tour which should include a good deal of medical work?

Leaving Shanghai by the Soochow Creek they travelled north and west to the county town of Kiating, where a novel experience awaited them. Accustomed as they were to large, excited crowds, they hardly knew what to make of it when grown-up people as well as children fled in terror, so that the streets were literally cleared at their approach. Yet this was what happened in Kiating. No one would venture near them, and it was strange to see people of all classes hurrying to the nearest buildings as if for protection from imminent danger.

So strong were these unreasoning fears, due to the fantastic stories in circulation about foreigners, that it is doubtful whether any entrance could have been gained for more favourable impressions but for the influence of the medical work.

Realising that in all probability they were the first foreigners to visit the city, Dr. Parker and his companion made it known that they were physicians, ‘able to prescribe for both external and internal complaints,’ and that on the morrow they would k’an-ping, or ‘investigate diseases,’ providing each patient gratuitously with the appropriate remedy. This seemed to turn the tide of popular feeling, and as they went about the streets and made the circuit of the city wall they heard many remarks as to their being shan-ren, or ‘doers of good deeds’.

‘Long before breakfast,’ wrote Dr. Parker of the following morning, ‘the banks of the river were crowded with persons desiring medical aid. We were welcomed in some of the very houses the doors of which had been shut against us the day before.’

What a turning of the tables in favour of the missionary! and all due to ointments, pills, and powders, prescribed with sympathy and prayer. After this there was nothing - but friendliness as they walked through the city, and they had all they could do to supply books to those who came for them.

Throughout the remainder of their journey the value of the medicine chest as an aid to evangelisation was still further proved in a variety of ways. At one important city the missionaries wete kept busy all day long handing gospels and tracts from: the boat to a steady stream of applicants.

In his report of this journey Hudson Taylor stated that with Dr. Parker’s help he had distributed during the first three months of the year 3,000 New Testaments and Scripture portions and more than 7,000 other books, and tracts.

The excursion from which we have just returned was particularly interesting for the illustration it afforded of the scarcely to be exaggerated value of medical work as an aid to missionary labour.

The crying need for a hospital was brought home to us afresh by cases in which life or limb could have been saved and chronic diseases relieved had we been able to care for the sufferers. I sincerely trust that funds for this purpose are on the way to us. The door is widely open and no man can shut it.

But though these accounts and others of later journeys aroused much interest at home, the £1,000 needed was not forthcoming. Trying as was this long waiting and uncertainty, it was brightened by tokens for good, two of which took the form of especially encouraging financial help.

Of these gifts in aid of the work, one was handed to Dr. Parker by a resident, and consisted of fifty dollars towards the purchase of land for a hospital. The other, received by Hudson Taylor himself, had a special interest as being the first that ever came to him apart from the Society for the cause so dear to his heart.

And when one records the name of the donor, W. T. Berger of Saint Hill, near London, what a vista is opened up into the providence of God! Mr. Berger, a frequent visitor at the Tottenham Meeting, had met the young missionary on one or more occasions before he sailed for China. His interest had been awakened, no doubt deepened later by Hudson Taylor’s letters from Shanghai. The result was this gift of £10, thankfully appropriated towards the support of a child the missionaries were anxious to adopt; a first step, as they hoped, towards a permanent boardingschool.

But how much more was in the plan of the Great Giver! Could Hudson Taylor have foreseen how many hundreds, even thousands of pounds would come to him through the same channel, and the still more important gifts of counsel, sympathy, and brotherly love in the work he and Mr. Berger were to do together for the Lord, how amazed and overwhelmed he would have been! But all this and far more was being brought to pass by Him who even then was working out His own purposes in the life of His servant.

Meanwhile Burdon and Hudson Taylor were responding _ to anew call. In the estuary of the Yangtze, distant only thirty miles from Shanghai, lay the great island of Tsungming. Sixty miles long by fifteen or twenty broad, covered in springtime with blossoming peach otéhards amid a sea of early wheat, it was the home of more than a million people. But though so near the foreign Settlement it was off the beaten track, and had never yet been visited by Protestant ‘missionaries. Little wonder that it attracted them, about to set out on a longer itineration than any yet attempted.

Their plan on this occasion was to penetrate as far inland as possible, testing what could be done in a good many places rather than spending much time in any one. In Tsungming they found enquiries had been made about them from the yamen, so felt it wise to call upon the Mandarin.

This official proved to be a grave though rather young man, who received them with courtesy. He accepted copies of the New Testament and other books, and listened attentively while they explained their contents, putting before him the way of salvation through faith in Christ. He made no objection to their visiting the island. This interview alone, they felt, would well have repaid their coming to Tsungming.

The temple of the city-god was a busy scene during the remainder of that day. Mud or no mud, the people came; and while Hudson Taylor did his best to attend to patients in one of the side rooms, Burdon occupied the crowd with books and preaching in the open courtyard. Only when his voice gave out was the medical work interrupted; for the greater part of his audience then surged over to the improvised dispensary, and no more doctoring was possible.

Before leaving Tsungming city the travellers spent one morning in looking up the principal schools, to leave Christian literature with both scholars and teachers. Thirteen schools and a college were visited, the pupils varying in number from nine to twenty-five. The teachers were in many cases intelligent men, able to give information as to the chief centres of population on the island.

After leaving Tsungming, a favourable wind and tide carried them far up the Yangtze, and when the sun rose in a cloudless sky they found themselves nearing the sacred mountains that command the north and south banks of the river, just where its estuary narrows away from the sea. It was a day of unusual beauty, and their voices being in need of rest they decided to make the ascent of the northern range, and learn all they could of the lie of the land around them. Directing the boatmen therefore to enter the nearest tributary stream and await their return in the latter part of the day, the young men set out full of expectancy. Describing it later Hudson Taylor wrote:

As we approached the hills the scene became beautiful beyond description. Of the five summits the central one was the highest, crowned by a

fine pagoda. At the foot of this hill and running up its side was a Buddhist temple and monastery so extensive that at a little distance we mistook it for a village.

The day happened to be a festival, and thousands of persons of all classes were gathered to join in the ceremonies. Nothing could be more evident than that idolatry was here a living system, flourishing unmolested by soldiers of the Cross. Heavy fumes of incense filled the air; and the clinking of cash, as the passers-by threw their coins into baskets placed before the idols, _ mingled with strains of music, the buzz of conversation and tramp of passing feet. Upon reaching the summit we entered the halls connected with the pagoda—the hideous figures of the idols, seen through smoke and flames from burning paper,'° making it seem like a place where Satan’s seat is.

Turning sadly away we mounted the pagoda, and what a contrast was the scene outspread before our eyes! No words can describe the landscape, and the more one looked the more fresh beauties lay revealed. The country below, covered with early crops and tended:like a garden, was of the brightest hue, owing to recent rains. Streams intersected it in every direction, bordered with drooping willows. Farmhouses with their fruit trees and neat willow fences, cemeteries here and there, cypress-shaded, and numerous villages and hamlets dotted the foreground. Beyond these lay the magnificent Yangtze, fifteen to twenty miles broad, its great northerly sweep looking calm as a lake and bearing many a boat and junk with graceful sails, some snowy white, some brown or black with age. Beyond again rose the ‘sacred mountains’ of the southern shore, crowned with their monasteries and temples, and other ranges of more distant hills.

The opposite side of the square pagoda presented an entirely different view. There to the north-west lay the great city of Tungchow surrounded by a populous plain; and several little lakes shining like molten silver put a finishing touch to the beauty of the scene.

With hearts greatly moved by this panorama, they stood looking out as Moses over the promised land. Yes, this was China, seen at last, away from the narrow limits of a Treaty Port. How great it was, how far-reaching! Shanghai and its surroundings began to dwindle in importance, in view of all this. So many lights seemed gathered there, as they thought of all the Missions. After the appeal of unreached Tsungming, this told. From this time onward Hudson Taylor swung free from influences that had held him, returning more and more in heart to his earlier position, his first sense of call to preach the Gospel ‘not where Christ was named’.

The following day they set out to visit Tungchow, the city seen from the pagoda, whose unenviable reputation had already reached them. It might be months, years even, before other evangelists would reach it, and they could not bear the responsibility of leaving its vast population any longer in ignorance of the way of life. If nothing more were possible, they could at any rate distribute their remaining Scriptures within its walls.

Our Chinese teachers did their best to persuade us not to go, but we determined that by God’s help nothing should hinder us. We directed them to remain in their boat, and if we did not return to learn whatever they could respecting our fate, and make all possible haste to Shanghai with the information. We then put our books in two bags and, with a servant who always accompanied us on these occasions, set off for the city, distant about seven miles. We had not gone far before our servant requested permission to go back, as he was thoroughly frightened by reports concerning the local soldiery. Of course we at once consented, not wishing to involve another in trouble.

At this point a respectable-looking man came up and earnestly warned us against proceeding, saying that if we did so we should find to our sorrow what the Tungchow militia were like. We thanked him for his advice, but could not act upon it, as our hearts were fixed. Whether it were for bonds, imprisonment, and death, or whether to return in safety we knew not, but we were determined, by the grace of God, not to leave Tungchow any longer without the Gospel.

After this my wheelbarrow man would proceed no farther and I had to seek another, fortunately not difficult to find. As we went on, the ride was anything but agreeable in the mud and rain, and we could not help feeling the danger of our position—though wavering not for a moment. At intervals we encouraged one another with promises from Scripture and verses of hymns, which were very comforting.

Nearing the western suburb of the city, the prayer of the early Christians when persecution was commencing came to mind, ‘And now, Lord, behold their threatenings: and grant unto thy servants, that with all boldness they may speak thy word’: a petition in which we most heartily united. Before entering the suburb we laid our plans so as to act in concert, and told our barrow-men where to await us, that they might not be involved in trouble on our account. Then, looking up to our heavenly Father, we committed ourselves to His keeping, took our books, and set off for the city.

For some distance we walked along the principal street leading to the West Gate unmolested, but before long a tall, powerful man, half-drunk, seized Burdon by the shoulders. I turned to see what was the matter, and in almost no time we were surrounded by a dozen or more of his companions, and hurried on to the city at a fearful pace.

My bag now began to feel heavy. I was soon in a profuse perspiration and scarcely able to keep up with them. We demanded to be taken before the chief magistrate, but were told, with the most insulting epithets, that they knew where to take us and what to do. The man who first seized Burdon soon afterwards left him for me, and became my principal tormentor, for I was neither so tall nor so strong as my friend and was less able to resist him. He all but knocked me down again and again, seized me by the hair, took hold of my collar so as almost to choke me, and grasped my arms and shoulders, making them black and blue. Had this continued much longer I must have fainted. All but exhausted, how refreshing was the remembrance of a verse quoted by my dear mother in one of my last home letters:

We speak of the realms of the blest,
That country so bright and so fair:
And oft are its glories confessed
But what will it be, to be there!

To be absent from the body, present with the Lord, free from sin. And this is the end = the worst that man’s malice can ever bring upon us.

As we were being hurried along, Burdon tried to give away a few books that were under his arm, not knowing whether we might have another opportunity. But the fearful rage of the soldier, and the way he insisted on manacles being brought, which fortunately were not at hand, convinced us that in our present position it was useless to attempt such work. There was nothing to be done but quietly to submit and go along with our captors.

Once or twice a quarrel arose as to how we should be dealt with, the more mild of our conductors saying that we ought to be taken to the yamen, but others wishing to kill us at once without appeal to any authority. Our minds were kept in perfect peace, and when thrown together on one of these occasions we reminded each other that the Apostles rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer in the cause of Christ. Having succeeded in getting a hand into my pocket, I produced a Chinese card (if the large red paper bearing one’s name may be so called) and after this was treated with more civility. I demanded that it should be given to the chief official of the place, and that we should be led to his office.

Oh, the long weary streets we were dragged through! I thought they would never end. And when we arrived at the yamen we passed through some great gates and came in sight of a large tablet with the inscription Min-chi fu-mu (the Father and Mother of the people).

Our cards were sent in, and after a short delay we were ushered into the presence of Ch’en Ta Lao-ie (The Great Venerable Grandfather Ch’en) who, as it proved, had formerly been Tao-tai in Shanghai and knew the importance of treating foreigners with civility. This mandarin who seemed to be the highest authority in Tungchow and wore an opaque blue button on his cap, came out to meet us with every possible token of respect. He took us to an inner apartment, a more private room, followed by a large number of’writers, runners, and semi-officials. I explained the object of our visit and begged permission to give him copies of our books, for which he thanked me. I tried to say a little about them, and also to give him a brief summary of our teachings. He listened very attentively, as of course did all the others. He then ordered refreshments to be brought, which were very welcome, and himself partook of them with us.

After a long stay, we asked permission to see something of the city and to distribute the books we had with us before returning. To this he kindly consented. We then mentioned that we had been most disrespectfully treated as we came in, but did not attach much importance to the fact, being aware that the rough soldiery knew no better. Not desiring, however, to have such experiences repeated, we requested him to give orders that we were not to be further molested. This also he acceded to and accompanied us to the door of his yamen, sending several ‘runners’ to see that no trouble arose. We distributed our books well and quickly, and after visiting the Confucian temple left the city quite in state. It was amusing to see the use the ‘runners’ made of their queues. When the way was blocked by the crowd they turned them into whips and laid them about the people’s shoulders to right and left!

Early in the evening we got back to the boats in safety, sincerely thankful to our heavenly Father for His gracious protection and aid.

Thus the vision was clenched with suffering, and Hudson Taylor’s first sight of the great unreached interior was immediately followed by his first experience of danger to life itself at the hands of those he sought to help. What could be more calculated to deepen, while at the same time it tempered his life purpose?