ACCORDING to our intention, expressed in a recent article on the Indo-Chinese opium traffic, we now proceed to give a sketch of the life and work of Pastor Hsi (Shee), a remarkable native of China, who became, by the grace of God, an eminent instrument for good to his fellow-countrymen. We derive our information from two volumes issued by Mrs. Howard Taylor, a member of the China Island Mission, the first of which is entitled: “One of China’s Scholars;” and the second: “One of China’s Christians”—but both of which are now to be had in one volume. The narrative is based to some extent on a brief account which Pastor Hsi wrote of his life; but it goes far beyond this, and embodies a large amount of additional interesting information about the work of this devoted man as well as concerning China, its people, and its religious beliefs.
Pastor Hsi was born in 1835 in a village of the great province of Shan-si, in North China, and in this province, containing in itself millions of people, he spent his life, both before and after he came to the knowledge of Christ. Hsi sprung from a family of reputation and means belonging to the class of scholars which forms a distinct sect in China, and became himself, in due course, a scholar of eminence, deeply versed in the writings of Confucius, China’s ancient sage and philosopher, who lived five hundred years before the Christian era began. Confucianism is more a system of morality than a religion. It does, indeed, recognise the existence of something like a great First Cause of all—”The Infinite”—but it mainly takes up the attitude of “we don’t know” towards the unseen world and the hereafter. Its moral system, therefore, as may be concluded, does not embrace so much duties to God as duties between man and man—a reproduction in some degree of the second table of the moral law as written in the natural conscience. In this way it holds forth a high standard of morality, but has no remedy for the depravity of man or his inability to keep the law. The only thing in the form of religion that it produces among the Chinese is a worship of their ancestors. This kind of worship is common to all classes among them. The craving, however, of the human mind for something more than this has found a place in China for two other systems—Taoism and Buddhism, which make up, in their own superstitious way, for the want of the supernatural in Confucianism. Taoism professes to have influence in the unseen world and power over evil spirits, while Buddhism, among other things, presents a way of escape from the sufferings of hell, and a way of entrance into Paradise.
The subject of this sketch seems to have been of an inquiring turn of mind from childhood, and even in riper years, when he had become versed in Confucianism, he was still on the path of mental inquiry. The doctrines of Confucianism could not meet the wants of his soul, though he hardly knew he had such a thing. Conscience told him also that he came far short of the standard of morality that even that system set before him. After he became a Christian he used to say: “In earlier years men honoured me as a scholarly disciple of Confucius, but I knew, with inner shame, how little the title was deserved. Now, in the truth of God, I have found the one power that alone can change the heart.” At this early period, however, he turned to the study of Taoism for satisfaction. This system held out the promise of immortality. But, strange to say, when engaged in this study, Hsi’s health began to give way, and instead of finding immortality, he found weakness and ill-health. This change was due, in part, no doubt, to his mental unrest, and to the excitement of the legal profession, which he then followed. But still in Taoism there was no deliverance from his troubles. “Startled and disappointed, he had to acknowledge that it was all a terrible delusion. Confucianism had left him unsatisfied; Buddhism had brought him no help; but Taoism had given him worse than nothing.” Thus at thirty years of age Hsi was in a sickly, decayed condition, with but a dark future looming before him. At this point in his history he was induced to have recourse to a supposed remedy that proved tenfold worse than the disease. His friends, as a last resort, urged him to try what relief opium would give him in his sufferings. The advice was: “Just take a little until you are better. It will then be quite easy to give it up.” Hsi yielded to their counsel, with the baneful result that his illness only increased, and that he became a confirmed opium smoker. He was brought to the very brink of the grave. All his friends thought that his end was near. He felt himself as if his very soul was departing from his body, when, wonderful to state, he suddenly heard a voice saying with authority, “Go back! go back!” Though he rarely referred to this occurrence in after life, yet he always regarded it as an interposition of God in mercy to his soul. Hsi, however, still continued the pernicious opium habit, which, it appears, was at this time rapidly increasing among the people of his native province.
This spreading evil was the forerunner of dark days to Shan-si—days fraught with untold sufferings to millions, and yet days that did not wholly pass without tokens of blessing to a few in that great province. About the year 1875 a great drought set in, which continued for several years. Crop after crop failed, and at last famine, with all its dreadful horrors, stalked through the land. Old and young died in thousands, until more than seventy-five per cent. of the population perished. The drought “lasted three and in some places four years.” The authorities did their best to meet the crisis, but it was entirely inadequate. The sufferings of the Chinese people evoked the deepest sympathy in England, and help was given. Early in the summer of 1878, when the famine was still at its height, two English missionaries, Messrs. Hill and Turner, came to the city of P’ing-yang, near which lay the Western Chang village, the abode of our Confucian scholar, Hsi. They did everything in their power to help the starving people by the distribution of food and money, and eventually started here the first mission-house and station in southern Shan-si, which has since been a centre of spiritual blessing to many.
These missionaries were the first foreigners that had ever appeared in this particular part of the province, and they were regarded with suspicion and dislike by many, especially by the “sect of the learned,” among whom was our scholar Hsi himself in his village home. And yet one of these missionaries, Mr. David Hill, was to be the instrument in the hand of God of bringing this proud and gifted Confucianist into vital touch with that religion which he then hated, and which was to transform his whole life. It happened on this wise. Mr. Hill, who had abundant opportunities of observing that the literary class in Shan-si were the most bitter enemies of Christianity, became much impressed with the desirability and importance of breaking down, if possible, this opposition. The means which he was led to try was to offer prizes for first-class essays on Christian themes. In the autumn of this year thousands of scholars were expected to come up to a great triennial examination, held at the capital of the province, and Mr. Hill decided to avail himself of the opportunity to advance his scheme. In co-operation with others he distributed thousands of packets containing papers to the scholars as they retired from their examinations. It was the earnest prayer of the missionaries that God would bless this effort to some, who in turn would be used for the salvation of others. But among all the scholars who passed out that day, the man whom the Lord purposed to bless by this labour of love was not among them. He was at home, the slave of opium, and the ordinary studies of his class had largely ceased to interest him. The Lord, however, was able to find him out; His ways are wonderful. One of Hsi’s elder brothers was at the city, and brought back a packet of the strange papers with him, and after being pressed with many arguments, Hsi at last decided to go in for the competition. Four prizes were offered, and with a view to helping his neighbours, he wrote three essays in the name of others, and one in his own, reserving the best one for himself. One hundred and twenty essays were sent in, and when the decision was announced, it was found that three of Hsi’s essays had gained prizes.
By this interesting circumstance, Hsi was very reluctantly,—for he had as yet no desire to have anything to do with the foreign religion,—brought into immediate contact with the missionary. After he had received his money prize, Mr. Hill, who needed assistance, enlisted his services as a teacher of the Chinese language, and this necessitated his stay for a time at the mission-house. Still Mr. Hill acted very warily with his new friend, as he saw he had no ordinary man to deal with, and made no direct effort to bring him over to Christianity. But “upon the table in Hsi’s little room lay a copy of the New Testament,” and it was gradually as he read the life of Jesus onwards to Gethsemane and Calvary that the truth began to make a deep impression upon him. “The burden of his guilt, the torment of an accusing conscience, and bondage to the opium habit he loathed but could not conquer, grew more and more intolerable. At last, the consciousness of his unworthiness became so overwhelming that he could bear it no longer, and placing the book reverently before him, he fell upon his knees on the ground, and so with many tears, followed the sacred story . . . until he came to “the place called Gethsemane,” and the God-man alone in that hour of His supreme agony at midnight in the garden.” “Then suddenly,” as he himself records, “the Holy Spirit influenced his soul and with tears that flowed and would not cease,” he unreservedly received Christ as his Saviour and his God. In succession to this, there came to him the spiritual vision of Christ as risen, and so wonderfully did the Holy Ghost bring this glorious reality near, “that he was ever afterwards as one who had seen the Lord.” Jesus was now to him Saviour and King. Shortly after this great change, Hsi, with characteristic decision, desired to confess Christ before men, and to unite himself with the little band of believers who met for worship, but Mr. Hill counselled him to wait a little, lest he should take the step too suddenly. Hsi, however, was very urgent, and to the man who brought this message from Mr. Hill, he said, “Tell him that I now worship God, not because of any outside influence, but through the teaching of the Holy Spirit. I understand for myself, having read His Word. I know my sins are great and deserve the punishment of hell. I know too that Jesus has forgiven all my sins; that He will save me from them; and grant me to live with Him in heaven for ever.” After a personal conversation with him, and, “moved by his deep sincerity,” Mr. Hill consented to receive him into fellowship. But Hsi, though now rejoicing in the light, had a great conflict awaiting him. This was in relation to the opium vice. He evidently saw, at once that this must be given up, but he passed through the most acute anguish before he obtained deliverance. For seven days and nights he never slept, and scarcely tasted any food. Mr. Hill gave him all the medicines usually prescribed, but they were of no avail. Hsi felt that he was wrestling with the power of Satan, and gave himself to prayer, bringing the adversary “before the Lord’s face daily.” There he often cried out—”Devil, what can you do against me? My life is in the hand of God, and truly I am willing to break off opium and die, but not willing to continue in sin and live.” “In his most suffering moments he would frequently groan out aloud—”Though I die, I will never touch it again.” But it was not until one day he was attracted by some verses in the Bible about “the Comforter,” as the source of all might for the combat of evil, that on casting himself in utter helplessness upon the Lord, the Spirit came, and “a tide of life and power seemed to sweep into his soul.” “He did what man and medicine could not do,” is Hsi’s own testimony. “From that moment my body was perfectly at rest.” In his own subsequent dealings with opium patients, though he appreciated the value of medicine, and used it, his watchword was, “If you would break off opium, don’t rely on medical help, don’t lean on man, but trust only in God.”
From the time of this great deliverance Hsi made “rapid progress in the heavenly way.” One night it seemed as if heaven itself was opened over his little room, and the Holy Spirit descended in rich abundance upon him. With this experience “there came a clear and definite call to the work of God,” but “at the time he said nothing about it, feeling deeply conscious of his unpreparedness and ignorance of spiritual things.” At this point he left his duties and went home to his family for a brief space. They observed at once that a great change had come over him, and concluded that he was at last “bewitched” by the foreigners, a thing they had greatly dreaded from the beginning of his connection with the mission-house. They saw that he had given up the opium smoking—a thing almost incredible—and were astonished beyond measure, but not reconciled. Though he explained to his wife and the others the mighty power that had effected the change, they were still angry, and when he proposed to take down the idols their wrath hardly knew any bounds. But Hsi persevered in his resolution with all patience and gentleness, and burned all his idols before returning to the city. Two months after this date Mr. Hill left P’ing-yang for his mission in Central China. Sad was the separation between the missionary and the little band of converts. Hsi accompanied him for some distance outside the city, and with mutual tears they parted. Hsi was then about forty-four years of age, and though he only lived seventeen years longer, he was enabled to accomplish during that time a work of more than ordinary usefulness among his fellow-countrymen in Shan-si.
We hope to conclude our sketch in next issue.