VI
FRIENDSHIP AND SOMETHING MORE

Love that bent low beneath his brother’s burden,
How shall he soar and find all sorrows flown!
Love that ne’er asked for answer or for guardian,
How shall he meet eyes sweeter than his own!
F. W. H. MEYERS
NOTHING in the records of his first two years in China is more surprising
than the way in which Hudson Taylor devoted himself to pioneer
evangelism. One might have thought that with the study of the language,
amid war conditions and well-nigh overwhelmed as he was with other
trials, he would scarcely have attempted frequent initiations in what was
then “the interior.” But to those years belong no fewer than ten
evangelistic journeys, all of which were more or less remarkable for their
courage and endurance.
North, south, and west of Shanghai stretched a populous region made
accessible by endless waterways. Junks were plentiful and afforded shelter
of a sort at night, as well as transportation by day, so that travelers were
not dependent on Chinese inns. Simple cooking arrangements supplied
food for the boatman’s family and “guests,” which might be supplemented
by stores of one’s own. The beds were just wooden boards and the tiny
windows were often on a level with the floor, but one could lie down or sit
on one’s bedding when it was not possible to stand upright.
Inconveniences were many, but people were made accessible in city after
city, town after town, and villages never out of sight as one passed slowly
along.
It was this that drew Hudson Taylor, as it had his Master long ago. The
same “must” was in his heart: “I must work the works of him that sent
me”; “I must preach the kingdom of God to other cities also”; “Other
sheep I have,... them also I must bring.” It was not enough to go to the
highways and byways of Shanghai. Others were already doing that to
some extent. His heart was burdened with a sense of responsibility for
those beyond — those who never had heard the way of salvation, who
never could hear unless the truth were brought to them by Christ filled
messengers. So nothing held him back, neither winter cold nor summer
heat, nor even the peril of war conditions, which might endanger the lives
of Europeans at any time or cut him off from return to Shanghai.
No sooner was one journey completed than he would start preparations
for another. After a period devoted chiefly to study, he was familiar
enough with the language to make himself understood in Mandarin as well
as the local dialect, and the initiations that followed were so intensive that
these ten journeys were accomplished within fifteen months. Before Dr.
Parker arrived, many excursions had been made to places within ten or
fifteen miles of Shanghai, and during the first three months they were
together, they distributed eighteen hundred New Testaments and Scripture
portions and over two thousand explanatory books and tracts. These were
given with the utmost care, only to those who could read, and as the
majority were illiterate it meant covering a great deal of ground and
explaining the message of the books to constantly changing crowds. Then,
beginning in winter, four journeys were taken from January to March, in
spite of zero weather, followed by others in April, May, June, August and
September. Out among the crowds all day and in boats that had to be
closed at night because of river thieves, there was little relief from the
distressing heat. But nothing deterred the young evangelist.
The danger of these journeys was considerable, and when he was without
companion the loneliness was keenly felt. Far from other foreigners,
moving among not too friendly crowds, he quietly prosecuted his mission,
finding his medical equipment of the greatest value in opening the way to
people’s hearts. His own heart, meanwhile, was entering more deeply into
what it means to live and die “without Christ,” and his outlook was
enlarging. From temple crowned hilltops and the height of ancient pagodas
he would look down upon cities, towns and villages where the homes of
millions of people were in sight — men, women and children who had
never heard the one, the only Name “whereby we must be saved.” Great
thoughts, deep thoughts were moving in his heart, “thoughts lasting to the
end.” 5
In the midst of it all, the civil war reached its desperate climax, and
Shanghai fell before the Government forces. Hudson Taylor was traveling
at the time with older missionaries toward the Soochow Lake. They had
not been absent many days 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 Settlement? Setting out at once to return, their fears were confirmed
by fleeing rebels who sought protection. This of course the missionaries
could not afford, and the men were caught and beheaded before their eyes.
Hastening on with increasing apprehension, they came upon terrible
evidences of the catastrophe that had taken place. But the Settlement was
as they had left it. Satiated with slaughter, the Imperialists were too
exultant over their conquest to pay much attention to foreigners.
Shanghai is now in peace (Hudson Taylor wrote), but it is like the peace of
death. Two thousand people at the very least have perished, and the
tortures some of the victims have under gone cannot have been exceeded
by the worst barbarities of the Inquisition. The city is little more than a
mass of ruins, and many of the wretched objects who survive are piteous
to behold.
Still, the worst was over, and Hudson Taylor and his colleagues gave
themselves to caring for the people, body and soul, while awaiting the
reply of their Committee to suggestions for more settled work. Usefulness
was what they longed for, and their plans had been well thought out and
much prayed over. But the answer upon which their future seemed to
depend was long in coming.
The heat of summer, meanwhile, was overpowering in their crowded
quarters, and a brief visit to Ningpo opened a tempting prospect. For the
missionaries in that city, feeling the need of a hospital to supplement their
otherwise efficient organization, extended a cordial invitation to Dr. Parker
to undertake this work, to which they pledged their united support. At
this juncture, while still waiting the reply of their Committee, they
received notice that the house they were sharing with another family
would be needed shortly for members of the mission to which it belonged.
Their fellow occupant was moving to premises of his own, but they had
not been in a position to build, nor could they find rooms for rent
anywhere in the Settlement or Chinese city. Only one course seemed open
to Hudson Taylor, especially when the long expected answer came and
was unfavorable. The Committee was not prepared to spend money on
building in the Ports. They wanted their workers to go to the interior,
though where they were to live until that was feasible did not appear.
Under these circumstances, Dr. and Mrs. Parker decided upon Ningpo,
and their colleague was left in uncertainty. His friends gone, his home gone
and no accommodation to be found even in the native city, how could he
remain in Shanghai to carry on his work?
For a time he was much perplexed, but gradually out of these very
difficulties emerged a new line of thought. He had been searching without
success for any kind of place he could rent as a home base. The rapid
influx of a new population made the housing problem in Shanghai more
acute than ever. If he could not get a home on shore, why not take to boats
as many Chinese do and live on the water? This would fit in well with the
project he already had in mind of adopting Chinese dress, the better to
prosecute his work. Yes, it all began to open up. He would take his few
belongings to Ningpo, when he went to escort the Parkers, and would
return to identify himself wholly with the people to whom his life was
given.
But the step was not as simple as it seemed. Wearing Chinese dress in
those days involved shaving the front part of the head and letting the hair
grow long for the regulation queue. No missionary or other foreigner
conformed to such a custom. For an occasional journey, a Chinese gown
might be used over one’s ordinary clothing, but to give up European dress
and adopt the native costume altogether was quite another matter. Hudson
Taylor had not been in China for a year and a half without realizing the
social ostracism such action would involve. So for a time there was a
struggle, though he was increasingly convinced of the wisdom of the step
from a higher point of view.
It was access to the people he desired. A recent journey of twenty-five
days alone, when he had penetrated two hundred miles up the Yangtze,
had assured him that it was possible to do more than was generally
supposed in itinerant evangelism. Of the fifty-eight towns and cities
visited, fifty one had never before been touched by messengers of the
Gospel. But the weariness and strain of the journey had been largely due
to the fact that he was wearing European clothing, the most outlandish
costume to those who had never seen it before! Attention was continually
distracted from his message by his appearance, which to his hearers was as
undignified as it was comical. And after all, surely it mattered more to be
suitably attired from the Chinese point of view — when it was the
Chinese he wanted to win — rather than sacrifice their approval for that of
the small foreign community in the Ports. So the decision was come to at
last, after much prayer and searching the Word of God for guidance, and
when the Parkers were ready to leave for Ningpo, Hudson Taylor’s
Chinese outfit was ready too, only waiting the crucial moment when he
would commit himself to the barber’s transforming hands. It was an
August evening when he went down to the river to engage the junk that
was to take the Parkers on the first stage of their journey. On the way a
Chinese stranger accosted him, asking to his surprise whether he was not
seeking a house for rent. Would a small one do, and in the Chinese city?
Because near the South Gate there was such a house, only it was not quite
finished building. The owner had run short of money and did not know
how to complete the work. If the house suited, no deposit would be asked,
and it could probably be had for an advance of six months’ rent.
As if in a dream, Hudson Taylor followed his guide to the southern part of
the city, and there found a small, compact house, perfectly new and clean,
with two rooms upstairs, two on the ground floor, and a fifth across the
courtyard for the servants, just the thing he needed and in the locality he
would have chosen. What it meant to pay the money over that night and
secure the premises may be better imagined than described. Then he had
not been mistaken after all! His work in Shanghai was not finished. Prayer
was being answered and the guidance given for which he had longed and
waited.
That night he took the step which was to have so great an influence on the
Evangelization of inland China! When the barber had done his best, the
young missionary darkened his remaining hair to match the long black
braid which, at first, must do duty for his own. Then in the morning he
put on as best he might the loose, unaccustomed garments, and appeared
for the first time in the gown and satin shoes of the “Teacher,” or man of
the scholarly class.
Everything opened up after that in a new way. On the return journey to
Shanghai he was not even recognized as a foreigner, until he began to
preach or distribute books and see patients. Then women and children
came around much more freely, and the crowds were less noisy and
excited. While missing some of the prestige attaching to Europeans, he
found it more than made up for by the freedom his changed appearance
gave him in moving among the people. Their homes were open to him as
never before, and it was possible to get opportunities for quiet intercourse
with those who seemed interested. Filled with thankfulness for these and
other advantages, he wrote home about the dress he had adopted, “It is
evidently to be one’s chief help for the interior.”
And it was “the interior” more and more on which his heart was set. A
few weeks in his new home at the South Gate brought wonderful soul
refreshing.
Dr. Parker is in Ningpo (he wrote early in October) but I am not alone. I
have such a sensible presence of God with me as I never before
experienced, and such drawings to prayer and watchfulness as are very
blessed and necessary.
Then, though a little place of his own was welcome and the opportunities
around him were many, Hudson Taylor set out again for the “regions
beyond.” His Christian teacher was left to look after the interested
neighbors in Shanghai and other missionaries were doing fine, intensive
work in that great center. It might not seem so fruitful a method — to go
as far afield as possible, scattering the Word of God — but it was
following the Lord’s teaching and example, and unless this course were
adopted, how should those farther on ever hear at all?
Joy and sorrow strangely mingled in the days that followed, for he was
prospered on this journey, yet the outcome brought him into trouble. The
great island of Tsungming was his destination, with its population of more
than a million without a single Protestant missionary. In company with
Mr. Burdon, Hudson Taylor had visited Tsungming the year before, but
now a very different reception awaited him. At his first landing place the
people simply would not hear of his leaving. Dressed like themselves he
did not seem a foreigner. His medicine chest attracted them no less than his
preaching, and when they learned that he would need an upstairs room
because of the dampness of the locality, they said:
“Let him live in the temple, if no other upper story can be found.”
But a householder was forthcoming whose premises included some sort of
attic, and within three days of his arrival Hudson Taylor found himself in
possession of his first home in “inland China.” This was wonderful, and
so was the response to his message. Neighbors dropped in every day to
the meetings and the stream of visitors and patients seemed unceasing. Six
weeks of this happy work, while it wakened some opposition on the part
of the medical fraternity, resulted in a group of earnest inquirers. One of
these was a blacksmith named Chang, and another a business man in good
standing, “whose heart the Lord opened.” His own first convert,
Kwei-hwa, and another Christian helper were with him, so that when
Hudson Taylor had to return to Shanghai for supplies the little group was
still well cared for.
And then the disappointment came which was as painful as it was
unexpected. Unknown to him, there had been some wire pulling at
Tsungming. A high official had been induced by certain doctors and
druggists to relieve them of the presence of one whom they considered
their rival, though the young missionary accepted no payment for his
medical work. A summons to the British Consulate awaited him, and his
plea to be allowed to remain on the island, where all seemed peaceful and
friendly, was in vain. The Consul reminded him that the British treaty
only provided for residence in the Ports, and that if he attempted to settle
elsewhere he rendered himself liable to a fine of five hundred dollars. He
must give up his house, remove his belongings to Shanghai and be careful
not to transgress in future, and that in spite of the fact that French priests
were living on Tsungming, protected by a supplementary treaty which
stipulated, as Hudson Taylor well knew, that immunities granted to other
nations should also apply to the British. He might have appealed to a
higher authority, but meanwhile could only accept the Consul’s decision.
It was a heartbroken letter that he wrote home that evening. Those young
inquirers — Chang, Sung and the others — what was to become of them?
Were they not his own children in the faith? How could he leave them
with no help and so little knowledge in the things of God? Yet the Lord
had permitted it. The work was His. He would not fail them nor forsake
them.
“My heart will be truly sorrowful when I can no longer join you in the
meetings,” said the blacksmith the last evening they were together.
“But you will worship in your own home, replied his friend. “Still shut
your shop on Sunday, for God is here whether I am or not. Get some one
to read for you, and gather your neighbors in to hear the Gospel.”
“I know but very little,” put in Sung “and when I read I by no means
understand all the characters. My heart is grieved because you have to
leave us; but I do thank God that He ever sent you to this place. My sins,
once so heavy, are all laid on Jesus, and He daily gives me joy and peace.”
Perplexed and disappointed, the young missionary could only wait upon
God as to his future course.
Pray for me, pray for me (he wrote to his parents at this time). I need
more grace, and live far below my privileges. Oh to feel more as... the Lord
Jesus did when He said, “I lay down my life for the sheep.” I do not want
to be as a hireling who flees when the wolf is near, nor would I lightly run
into danger when much may be accomplished in safety. I want to know
the Lord’s will and to have grace to do it, even if it results in expatriation.
“Now is my soul troubled, and what shall I say?... Father, glorify thy
name.” Pray for me, that I may be a follower of Christ not in word only,
but in deed and in truth.
All unknown to the troubled heart there was another, stronger, deeper than
his own and more experienced in the things of God, that was facing the
same problem. This man also was burdened for the perishing millions of
inland China. He too had been testing the possibilities of itinerant
evangelism and had found encouraging openings for such work. He had
failed, however, in his effort to reach Nanking and was shut up to living on
boats, slowly making his way back to the coast. William Burns, preacher
and evangelist whom God had so signally used throughout Scotland and
Canada in the mighty revival of 1839, was even then nearing Shanghai, and
there it was that he was brought into touch with Hudson Taylor in his
hour of need. It was not long before each recognized a kindred spirit, in
spite of their disparity in years. Like Paul and Timothy they drew
together, and those wintry days saw the commencement of a friendship
destined to mold not only Hudson Taylor’s missionary life but the
character of the far-reaching enterprise that was to develop under his
guidance.
Not one boat but two now traveled in company over the network of
waterways leading inland from Shanghai. Each missionary had a Chinese
missionary with him as well as other helpers, and daily worship on the
boats grew into quite a little service. Mr. Burns had developed a line of his
own in such work which his companion was glad to follow. Choosing an
important center, they might remain two or three weeks in one place.
Every morning they set out early with a definite plan, sometimes going
together and sometimes separating to visit different sections. Mr. Burns
believed in beginning quietly on the outskirts of any city in which
foreigners had rarely been seen, and working his way by degrees to the
more crowded quarters. So they would give some days to preaching in the
suburbs, gradually approaching the thronging streets and markets, until
they could pass anywhere without endangering the shopkeepers’ tempers
or their wares. Then they would visit temples, schools and tea shops,
returning regularly to the best places for preaching. Announcing at each
meeting when they would be there again, they had the satisfaction of
seeing the same faces frequently, and interested hearers could be invited to
the boats for further conversation.
As time went on, Mr. Burns did not fail to notice that Hudson Taylor,
though so much younger and less experienced, had the more attentive
hearers and was even asked into private houses while he himself was
requested to wait outside. The riffraff of the crowd always seemed to
gather round the preacher in foreign dress, while those who wished to hear
undisturbed followed his less noticeable friend. The result was a
conclusion of which Mr. Burns tells in the following letter:
January 26, 1856.
It is now forty-one days since I left Shanghai on this last occasion. An
excellent young English missionary, Mr. Taylor of the Chinese
Evangelization Society, has been my companion...and we have experienced
much mercy, and on some occasions considerable help in our work.
I must once more tell the story I have had to tell more than once already,
how four weeks ago, on the 29th of December, I put on Chinese dress
which I am now wearing. Mr. Taylor had made this change a few months
before, and I found that he was in consequence so much less incommoded
in preaching, etc., by the crowd, that I concluded that it was my duty to
follow his example....
We have a large, very large field of labor in this region, though it might be
difficult in the meantime for one to establish himself in any particular
place. The people listen with attention, but we need the power from on
high to convince and convert. Is there any spirit of prayer on our behalf
among God’s people in Kilsyth? Or is there any effort to seek this spirit?
How great the need is, and how great the arguments and motives for
prayer in this case! The harvest here is indeed great, and the laborers are
few and imperfectly fitted, without much grace, for such a work. And yet,
grace can make a few feeble instruments the means of accomplishing great
things — things greater even than we can conceive.
Prayer was the atmosphere of William Burn’s life and the Word of God
was his daily food.
He was mighty in the Scriptures (his biographer records) and his greatest
power in preaching was the way in which he used the “sword of the
Spirit” upon men’s consciences and hearts.... Sometimes one might have
thought, in listening to his solemn appeals, that one was hearing a new
chapter in the Bible when first spoken by a living prophet.... His whole
life was literally a life of prayer, and his whole ministry a series of battles
fought at the mercy-seat.... In digging in the field of the Word, he threw up
now and then great nuggets which formed part of one’s spiritual wealth
ever after.
Cultured, genial and overflowing with mother wit, he was an ideal
companion. Sacred music was his delight. A wonderful fund of varied
anecdotes gave charm to his society, and he was generous in recalling his
experiences for the benefit of others. And this man, the friendship of this
man, with all he was and had been, was the gift and blessing of God at this
particular juncture to Hudson Taylor. Under its influence he grew and
expanded and came to an understanding of spiritual values that left its
impress on his whole after life. William Burns was better to him than a
college course with all its advantages, because he lived out before him, right
there in China, the reality of all he most needed to be and know.
For seven long happy months they worked together, first in the Shanghai
region, then in and around the great city of Swatow. The call to this
southern port had come most unexpectedly, and they had the privilege of
being the first missionaries in that difficult but now fruitful field. But for
their Chinese dress it would have been impossible to live right in the native
city as they did, and to make friends of so many of their turbulent
neighbors. At the end of four months they were able, through the blessing
of God upon the medical work, to rent the entire premises in which they
had been allowed but a single room, and their initial difficulties seemed at
an end.
Then it was that at Mr. Burn’s request his young companion consented to
return to Shanghai, to obtain his medical outfit left there for safety. As
though the shadow of a longer parting lay upon his heart, Hudson Taylor
was reluctant to take the step. To leave Mr. Burns alone to face the worst
heat of summer was no less distressing than to break up the
companionship which had meant so much in his life.
Those happy months were an unspeakable joy and comfort to me (he
recalled long after). Never had I such a spiritual father as Mr. Burns; never
had I known such holy, happy intercourse. His love for the Word was
delightful, and his holy reverential life and constant communings with God
made fellowship with him to satisfy the deep cravings of my heart.
But the instruments and medicines were needed, for Mr. Burns was keen
about developing hospital work. So Hudson Taylor sailed for Shanghai,
only to find that his medical supplies had all been accidentally destroyed
by fire. And before he could replace them, the distressing news reached
him that his beloved and honored friend had been arrested by the Chinese
authorities and sent, under escort, a journey of thirty-one days to Canton.
The shock was all the more painful as they were forbidden to return to
Swatow, and the path that had seemed so clear before them was lost in
strange uncertainty.
Yet but for this great and unexpected trial Hudson Taylor might never
have been led into the lifework that was awaiting him; might never have
known the love beyond all other human love which was to be his crowning
joy and blessing.