The Rev. Mr. Mattoon was still at his post, awaiting our coming. Mrs. Mattoon and her daughters had been compelled to leave for home some time before our arrival. And not long thereafter Mr. Mattoon followed them on his furlough, long overdue. Besides the two men of our own mission, we found in Bangkok the Rev. Dan B. Bradley, M.D., who was conducting a self-supporting mission; Rev. S. J. Smith, and Rev. R. Telford of the Baptist mission.
Since neither Bangkok nor Lower Siam proved to be my permanent home, I shall content myself with a very summary account of the events of the next three years.
The first work of a new missionary is to acquire the language of the country. His constant wish is, Oh for a gift of tongues to speak to the people! As soon as a teacher could be found, I settled to work at my kaw, kā, ki, kī[[2]]. No ambitious freshman has such an incentive for study as has the new missionary. It is well if he does not confine himself to grammar and dictionary, as he did in the case of his Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. Pallegoix’s Dictionarium Linguae Thai, and his short Grammar in Latin, were all the foreign helps we had. The syntax of the language is easy; but the “tones,” the “aspirates,” and “inaspirates,” are perplexing beyond belief. You try to say “fowl.” No, that is “egg.” You mean to say “rice,” but you actually say “mountain.”
[2]. The first exercise of the Siamese Spelling-book.
A thousand times a day the new missionary longs to open his mouth, but his lips are sealed. It is a matter of continual regret that he cannot pour out his soul in the ardour of his first love, unchilled by the deadening influences to which it is sure to be subjected later. But the delay is not an unmitigated evil. He is in a new world, in which he is constantly reminded of the danger of giving offence by a breach of custom as unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. A bright little boy runs up and salutes you. You stroke his long black hair, only to be reminded by one of your seniors—“Oh! you must never do that! It is a mortal offence to lay your hand on a person’s head.” So, while you are learning the language, you are learning other things as well, and of no less importance.
In the mission school there was a class of bright boys named Nê, Dit, Chûn, Kwāi, Henry, and one girl, Tūan. To my great delight, Dr. House kindly turned them over to me. It made me think I was doing something, and I really was. I soon became deeply interested in these children. Nê grew to be an important business man and an elder in the church; Tūan’s family became one of the most influential in the church. Her two sons, the late Bun It and Elder Bun Yī of the First Church in Chiengmai, have been among the very best fruits of the mission; though my personal share in their training was, of course, very slight. In the September after our arrival there was organized the Presbytery of Siam, with the four men of the mission as its constituent members. During the first two years, moreover, I made a number of tours about the country—sometimes alone, oftener with Dr. House, and once with Mr. Wilson.
I had the pleasure of meeting His Majesty the King of Siam, not only at his birthday celebrations, to which foreigners were invited, but once, also, at a public audience on the occasion of the presentation of a letter from President James Buchanan of the United States. This was through the courtesy of Mr. J. H. Chandler, the acting United States Consul. Two royal state barges were sent down to the Consulate to receive the President’s letter and the consular party. Siamese etiquette requires that the letter be accorded the same honour as would be given the President in person. In the first barge was the letter, placed in a large golden urn, with a pyramidal cover of gold, and escorted by the four officers who attend upon His Majesty when he appears in public. In the second barge was the consular party.
After a magnificent ride of four miles up the river, we were met at the palace by gilded palanquins for the members of the party, while the letter, in a special palanquin and under the golden umbrella, led the way to the Palace, some quarter of a mile distant. At the Palace gate a prince of rank met us, and ushered us into the royal presence, where His Majesty sat on his throne of gold, richly overhung with gilded tapestry. Advancing toward the throne, and bowing low, we took our stand erect, while every high prince and nobleman about us was on bended knees, not daring to raise his eyes above the floor.
The Consul then read a short introductory speech, stepped forward, and placed the letter in the extended hands of the King. Having glanced over it, the King handed it to his secretary, who read it aloud, His Majesty translating the substance of it to the princes and nobles present. The King then arose, put his scarf about his waist, girded on his golden sword, came down, and shook hands with each of the party. Then, with a wave of his hand, he said, “We have given President Buchanan the first public reception in our new palace,” adding, “I honour President Buchanan very much.” He escorted the party around the room, showing us the portraits of George Washington, President Pierce, Queen Victoria, and Prince Albert. Then, turning to the proper officer, he directed him to conduct us to an adjoining room to partake of a luncheon prepared for us; and, with a bow, withdrew.
After “tiffin,” we were escorted to the landing as we had come, and returned in like state in the royal barge to the Consulate. Altogether it was a notable occasion.