CHAPTER VIII
Mr. McKenzie—The First Church Built by Natives—Mr. McKenzie’s Sickness—His Death—Warning to New Missionaries—The Tonghaks—Mr. Underwood’s Trip to Sorai in Summer—Native Churches—Our Use of Helpers—Christians in Seoul Build their Own Church—Epidemic of Cholera—Unhygienic Practices—Unsanitary Condition of City.
In the meanwhile, in the fall of 1894, Mr. McKenzie, who had arrived from Canada in the winter of 1893, and, as we have said, had gone to Dr. Hall’s relief, after his return decided to go to the interior, the better to learn the language and people, and to live there as much as possible in every way like a native. Mr. Underwood advised him to go to the village of Sorai, or Song Chun, then under his care, where he had baptized almost the first converts ever received in the Korean church. Here he found a few Christians who received him as a brother. He made his home with one of them, and at once began to preach Christ by example. Long before the people understood his broken Korean they read his beautiful life, and little by little a change came over the whole community. We all thought of him often in his loneliness in that far-off hamlet, where, though he was a great light to the people, there was no real companionship for him. At Christmas we sent him a box of home-made bread, plumb-cake, canned fruits and vegetables, tea and milk and sugar, for we knew he had no foreign food and that he was living solely on Korean diet, but we did not know that it consisted of rice chiefly, with a chicken once a week, and occasionally a few eggs.
When our box reached him, he handed the contents all over to the Koreans. He wrote that he dared not taste them, knowing that if he did it would be impossible to go back to native food. Meanwhile one and another of the villagers and people in the vicinity were giving up their old heathen idols and turning to Christ.
Some years before the Christians of that village had asked Mr. Underwood to give them a church, but, like the young man who came to Jesus, they went away sorrowful, when told they must build it themselves. Now, however, they again took up the idea in a different spirit. Near the village was a rising piece of ground on which stood a little grove, in midst of which had been for many years the shrine where the village deities were worshiped. This had long been neglected and destroyed, and here it was decided to build the new church. Every one gave as the Lord had prospered him, gladly, enthusiastically, and a heathen master builder undertook to direct the erection of the building on half pay, because it was for the great “chief God of heaven,” as he understood. Very likely he knew little enough of the one only God for whose service it was raised, but not very long after he learned both to know and love him.
The little meeting house was not a very imposing or lofty structure. It could boast nothing of the magnificence of our American churches, no doubt it would blush to be called a church at all in such a stately company, so I will call it a chapel, and even then it was an humble and unpretentious one, but it was the best building in the place. The poor people put into it their best wood, stones and tiles, the loving labor of their own hands, with fervent prayer. When it was finished no debt hung over it, and God, who does not see as man sees, blessed and honored it by filling it to overflowing with simple-minded, sincere, earnest people, who came with hearts ready to receive with meekness his word.
PARTY STARTING OUT IN MORNING FROM THATCHED INN. [PAGE 199]
CHURCH AT SORAI. [PAGE 124]
In the early summer of 1895, Mr. McKenzie wrote, asking Mr. Underwood to go and dedicate the church and receive a number of applicants for baptism. This he promised to do, but just before he was to start, one sad day in July, when a number of us had met to hold a day of fasting and prayer, a messenger came with the news of the deadly illness of our dear brother, Mr. McKenzie. The pitiful letter, written with his own trembling fingers, showing in every sentence the evidence of terrible suffering and of a mind already unhinged, was followed immediately by the shocking news of his death. The blow fell like a thunderbolt. Such zeal, consecration and usefulness cut short so soon!
It was strange, and yet there was a lesson in it for the noblest class of missionaries. And here let me say just a few words of warning to some who may have the foreign field in view, and to some who are perhaps already on the field. There are men and women, who, being John the Baptist sort of people, enter the work with such zeal and enthusiasm and allow themselves to become so overwhelmed with the awful responsibility for these dying millions (which indeed every true missionary feels only too heavily), that they forget the just demands of the body of this death. They forget that a solitary life gradually unseats the intellect, and that a body which has reached maturity, fed on plenty of nutritious food, cannot suddenly be shifted to a meagre, unaccustomed and distasteful diet of foreign concoction, and retain its power to resist disease, and to accomplish the heavy work they mercilessly exact from it, like Egyptian taskmasters demanding brick without straw. They forget that the spirit cannot remain united to the body unless the claims of the latter (in which are included those of the brain) are satisfied, and so they drop, one by one, our noblest and most needed laborers. But even so, they do not die entirely in vain, they leave an example of Christlikeness and devotion which preaches eloquently, and is an inspiration to all their brethren.
And yet if they could only have gone on living and preaching, as they might, had they been able to mix with their enthusiasm and consecration, wisdom and temperance! During my short experience I have seen several illustrations of what Mr. McKenzie’s death brought home so startlingly to us all. We learned afterwards that he had been sick for some weeks, his mind had been somewhat affected early in the history of the disease, the progress of which had not been very rapid, but as he had no companion who could observe the danger signals, and no doctor to help, his invaluable life was lost.
The more intelligent natives urged him to send for a doctor, but he hesitated to call others from their work to undertake a long difficult trip in the unhealthy summer season, lest it should prove to be only a passing temporary ailment. And so he went on doctoring himself (just as any missionary alone in the interior is tempted to do), delaying to call for help, from his very unselfishness and conscientious fear of giving trouble.
“Take care of your head. Don’t work too long in the sun,” he said to an old woman by the roadside, “or you may lose your mind as I have.”
He related to his friend, the Korean leader, accounts of long nights of anguished struggle with Satan, and then again of hours of ecstatic joy with his Saviour. The intolerable agony in his head grew steadily worse, until the end. The Koreans felt the terrible blow deeply, but they have never ceased to love and revere Mr. McKenzie’s memory. They cannot speak of him now after a lapse of several years without tears. Their loving hands prepared him for the grave and covered his bier with flowers. They held a funeral service as best they knew, after our custom, with prayers and hymns, and laid his loved remains in a quiet place, not far from the little church which he had been the instrument in God’s hands of building. His influence is still felt in the village and for miles around. He lived Christ and laid the foundations of that church on a rock. He had a reputation for great courage and prowess, and it is said that his presence alone saved Sorai from invasions of Tonghaks.
This society played a conspicuous part in the opening of the China-Japan war, its name means literally Eastern doctrine, and its aim was in brief, “the East for Easterners,” or “Korea for Koreans.” They declared their desire and intention to down all Westerners, Western ideas, reforms and changes, and to restore and re-establish old laws and customs. The sudden organization and wonderful popularity of this society was doubtless caused by the outrageous conduct of many corrupt officials, who ground down the people mercilessly with unjust taxation and brought about a general feeling of unrest and bitter discontent.
They were in many respects like the Boxers of China, and believed they had immunity from death and could not be hurt by bullets. They soon spread all over the land, a terror to officials, and the Korean government was powerless to stop them. They gave up the worship of all minor deities and honored only the Lord of the heavens. They forced people everywhere to join their ranks and subscribe for their support, levying taxes on small and great. Starting like many other movements, in a good and patriotic determination to do away with abuses and institute reforms, it grew into a great evil and terror in the whole land. Bad and unprincipled men, of whom there are plenty in all climes, who are restless and ready to throw themselves into anything which promises a change, knowing that no change can be for the worse for them, joined in large numbers, and many companies of Tonghaks differed only in name from bands of robbers. As has been said, the government could make no headway against them, and whether or not the aid of China was officially sought, I am not prepared to say, but the fact that China did send troops to Korea, nominally to control this uprising, was used by the Japanese, who claimed that a mutual agreement existed between Japan and China that neither should introduce troops into Korea without the consent of the other, as a casus belli, and they forthwith sent an army to Korea, seized the palace, and sunk a transport bringing Chinamen to Chemulpo.
So much for a brief explanation of the Tonghaks. Large companies of these men threatened on three different occasions to raid Sorai while Mr. McKenzie was there. To show that he leaned on no earthly defense, but only on the arm of the almighty God, he took his gun all to pieces when he heard of their approach. They were told of this, and were deeply impressed; and were so thoroughly convinced that if he was leaning on some mysterious power with such strong confidence, it would be useless and worse to attack him, that they gave up their plan. The third time they decided to attack the place they were said to be ten thousand strong, but after coming part way, they turned back, and never again threatened Sorai, which was the only village in that section which was never raided.
One day Mr. McKenzie heard that a tiger was prowling around in the vicinity, and started out with his shotgun to hunt the beast, but fortunately did not have a chance to try conclusions with that weapon, which, however useful in killing partridges, would not be likely to do more than tease a tiger. As soon as we received news of his death, Mr. Underwood and Dr. Wells started that very day for Sorai, to arrange his effects, make sure the death had been as reported, and comfort and encourage the native Christians. Before they returned, Mr. Underwood dedicated the little church, which was packed almost to suffocation, with crowds standing around the doors and windows. He baptized on that day quite a little company, as well as admitted a large number of catechumens and held a memorial service for Mr. McKenzie.
THE THREE STAGES OF MAN IN KOREA
1. MARRIED MAN 2. ENGAGED BOY. 3. YOUNG BOY
Mr. Underwood was kept longer than I expected on this trip, and there were no means of postal or telegraphic communication. We women, whose husbands go hundreds of miles into the interior, realize that we must take strong hold on God, and learn patience and faith. When the time for Mr. Underwood’s return had passed, and no news came, I remembered flooded rivers, bands of Tonghaks, the various forms of deadly disease that may attack the man who travels in the country in July or August, and the waiting and suspense grew harder every day.
Every morning I looked up the road, where it curves around the hill, to see if he were coming. Every evening when the hateful twilight hurried into darkness, I strained my aching vision along the awful emptiness of that road, and all night long I listened for the plash of oars on the river, or almost fancied I heard his voice as the boats rounded the point, for he might come in a boat. Sometimes I saw Japanese coming in the distance, and deceived by their dark clothes, thought it was he. Once a native chair came up the road near the house, and they told me he had come, but it was only a stranger, and the chair passed on. Yet my case was not harder than that of many women in the homelands who must all learn what anxious suspense and long vigils mean, but at length, fearing he was seriously sick, I concluded that I would go and find him.
To do this secrecy was necessary, for none of my foreign friends would allow me to go at that season, if they were informed of my intention. So I called up Mr. Underwood’s trusted literary assistant, and arranged with him to hire ponies. I planned to start from our house in Seoul (we were then at the river cottage), and as nearly every one was out of town, expected to be able to get away without any one’s knowledge. But on the very day, word came that he had already started, and was well on his way home, his ponies had returned, and he, coming by water, was almost due. No use to go now, and in a day or two he was safe among us again, and again in contrition I heard the gentle rebuke, “Oh ye of little faith, wherefore did ye doubt?”
The church in Sorai was the first built and paid for by the natives, was in fact the first Presbyterian church built in Korea. The Christian natives in Seoul had met in a little guest-house on our place, and in similar rooms in other sub-stations. So, Sorai in the van set the marching order, and all others, with almost no exceptions (in the Presbyterian missions), have followed in their lead.
Paid pastors none of them have, but all the stronger ones employ evangelists, whom they often pay in rice or fields or wood, to systematically carry the gospel to their heathen neighbors. It is our custom to select in each church the most earnest and intelligent of the Christians as a leader, who takes charge of the services, and oversight of the flock, and reports progress to the missionary in charge. The leaders are gathered once a year, at the time when farmers have most leisure, at some central place, and instructed in the doctrines of the Bible, church government and history, and careful exegetical Bible study. They are carefully trained in conducting religious services and in preparing illustrated Bible readings. In every way possible the missionary tries to fit these men for their duties. Mr. Underwood is accustomed to hold one of these classes in the city for those who live near enough, and one in the country for those who are at too great a distance to attend the city class, and I believe nearly all the others do the same.
Such is the interest felt in the gatherings and the thirst for more light, that many who are not invited, and who hold no office in the church, travel many miles, bringing their own rice, to attend these classes, which are often crowded to overflowing. The church leaders are rarely paid any salary, even by the natives. Each missionary engaged in evangelistic work is allowed one paid helper, at five dollars a month. This man employs his whole time in this way, and some missionaries who have a large field under their care are allowed two such assistants.
Mr. Underwood has always had a good many men, who freely gave the greater part of their time to the work, or who were paid by the native Christians, or were provided by him with some means of gaining their living which would admit of their giving much time to the work. Some would peddle quinine, at sufficient profit to make a good living. Each bottle is wrapped with a tract, and pains were taken to insure only the best article being placed in the hands of these dealers. Some of these men are placed in charge of little book shops, without any salary, some in charge of a chapel or dispensary, the privilege of occupying the house their only pay. There are always a number of young men around him glad and proud to be asked to serve on a special mission here or there, and the young men’s missionary societies band themselves together for systematic gospel work, so that they each week visit some village, distributing tracts and preaching. All these, with the leaders, who are always at his disposal for work in their own vicinity, form a valuable corps of helpers. This plan, or something like it, I believe, is carried out by all the evangelistic missionaries in the Presbyterian missions. Mr. Underwood, also, copying from the Methodists, established a circle of class meetings among the Christians under his care in and around Seoul.
The class leaders meet with him once a week, each bringing his book, make a report of attendances, absences, sickness, removals, backslidings, deaths and conversions. The class leader, being, as far as we know, the best man in his class, and in a way responsible for it, becomes again a very useful helper.
During the spring of 1895 the Presbyterian church in Chong Dong, Seoul, decided to build themselves a place of worship. The people were all of them poor, even according to Korean ideas, paper-hangers, carpenters, small retail shopkeepers, farmers, policemen, soldiers, interpreters, writers, copyists, even chair coolies, gardeners and peddlers, the richest of them rarely earning more than five dollars in gold a month. So we missionaries decided to raise the most of the two thousand yen necessary among ourselves, encouraging the natives to give as much as they could.
Mr. Underwood, however, in trying to impress them with the duty of supporting the Lord’s work liberally, was met one day with the remark, that this was called a foreign religion, and so it was difficult to convince natives that foreigners should not pay its way. “And so it will continue to be regarded,” said my husband, “just as long as you allow foreign money to be used in carrying it forward. When you build and own your churches, send out your own evangelists, and support your own schools, then both you and others will feel and realize it is not a foreign affair, but your own.”
“Then,” said the deacon, “we will build the Chong Dong church ourselves.” Mr. Underwood was astonished. “How can you build such a church?” said he. The deacon replied, “Does the pastor ask such a question of what relates to God’s work? With God all things are possible.” Nothing, of course, remained to be said. The missionaries decided that it would be wiser for them to own the land, in case of possible political complications, but the building itself would cost the whole of one thousand yen. The people went to work with a will, the pastor and one or two other missionaries took off their coats and lent a hand at the work, boys hauled stones, Korean gentlemen, scholars, and teachers who had never lifted anything heavier than a pen, set themselves to work on the building, carpenters gave their skilled labor every alternate day, working for their own living only one out of every two, women saved a little rice from each bowl prepared for the family until enough was laid aside to be sold, and gave the money thus earned, and so in manifold ways the money came in and the work grew. At length, however, there were no more funds and the building came to a standstill. No one was willing to go into debt, even to borrow of the missionaries, and it was decided to wait until the way opened.
Just when everything seemed hopelessly blocked, the epidemic of Asiatic cholera broke out. Why Koreans do not have this every summer raging through the whole country is one of the unsolved problems. All sewage runs into filthy, narrow ditches, which are frequently stopped up with refuse, so as to overflow into the streets, green slimy pools of water lie undisturbed in courtyards and along the side of the road, wells are polluted with drainage from soiled apparel washed close by, quantities of decaying vegetable matter are thrown out and left to rot on the thoroughfares and under the windows of the houses. Every imaginable practice which comes under the definition of unhygienic or unsanitary is common. Even young children in arms eat raw and green cucumbers, unpeeled, acrid berries and heavy soggy hot bread. They bolt quantities of hot or cold rice, with a tough, indigestible cabbage, washed in ditch water, prepared with turnips and flavored with salt and red pepper. Green fruit of every kind is eaten with perfect recklessness of all the laws of nature, and with impunity (and I must say, an average immunity from disastrous consequence) which makes a Westerner stand aghast. Any of us would surely die promptly and deservedly if we presumed to venture one-tenth of the impertinences and liberties with Dame Nature which a Korean smilingly and unconcernedly takes for granted as his common right.
The only solution I have ever reached, and that I hold but weakly, is, that in accordance with the law of the survival of the fittest, none but exceptionally hardy specimens ever reach adolescence, or even early childhood, and that having survived the awful tests of infancy, they are able to endure most trials which befall later.
But even these, so to speak, galvanized-iron interiors are not always proof. It takes time, but every five or six years, by great care and industry, a bacillus develops itself, so hardened, so well armed, so deeply toxic, that even Koreans must succumb, and then there is an epidemic of cholera. Eight years before, in 1887, the plague swept through the land, and thousands fell. Christians, both missionaries and natives, united in prayers that God would stay the scourge. Physicians pronounced it contrary to the laws of nature that it should stop before frost came to kill the bacilli, but, in wonderful justification of faith, the ravages of the plague were abruptly checked in the midst of the terrible heat of the last days of August and the first of September.