Chapter IX · LIFE IN MAULMAIN. 1827-1831. (continued 2)

“July 3. Pastor Ing returned from a visit to Men-yoo-ah. He says that the same suspicion is spreading all over the country. Even the women mentioned in my last were afraid to have any communication with him. By forcing his way, he managed to sleep two nights at the house of the Toung-dwen teacher, and had some conversation with him and his people on the subject of religion. But the teacher, though not a regular Buddhist, feels his consequence, as the head of a sect, and is perhaps as far from candid consideration as the most bigoted priest. Pastor Ing says that the country is full of villages, and there is some disposition to listen to religion, but that in the present state of the public mind, if I should make the tour of those parts, as I had some intention of doing, there is not a house where the owner would dare to ask me to sit down at the entrance of the door.

“Feel extremely dejected this evening. Never so heartily willing to enter into my rest, yet willing to offer, and I do, with some peculiar feelings, offer, my poor life to the Lord Jesus Christ, to do and to suffer whatever He shall appoint, during my few remaining days. My followers feel some courage yet; for they have, I hope, a little faith, and they know, also, that whatever storm comes, it will beat upon their teacher first.

“July 4. Lord’s day. Another Burman day of worship, and a great day, being the first day of Lent, a season which continues three months. After usual worship, took a stroll through the place. All smiles and looks of welcome are passed away; people view me with an evil eye, and suffer their dogs to bark at me unchecked. Near Shway San-dau, the zayats were crowded with devout-faced worshippers. I found a vacant place under a shed built over a large brick idol, and, sitting down on the ground, I held converse with small parties, who came around in succession. Some company, also, morning and evening, at home. I can not but hope that two persons have this day obtained some discovery 352of the way of salvation through a crucified Saviour. But it is really affecting to see a poor native when he first feels the pinch of truth. On one side he sees hell; on the other side, ridicule, reproach, confiscation of goods, imprisonment, and death.

“July 7. Moung A, one of the persons last mentioned, comes every day. He seems to be quite taken with the Christian religion, but says he can not think of embracing it until the learned and the great lead the way.

“July 8. Many visitors through the day, in consequence of a festival held in the vicinity. Moung A begins to speak decidedly for Christ.

“July 9. Having agreed that two or three of our number shall go out every day, in different directions, and preach the Gospel, whether the people will hear or forbear, my lot fell in a public zayat, about a mile from home, near Shway San-dau, where I had an uninterrupted succession of hearers from morning till night. Pastor Ing and Moung Dway were successfully engaged in another quarter, and Moung En had some company at home. I presume that a hundred and fifty people have this day heard the Gospel intelligibly, who never heard it before.

“July 10. The same as yesterday, except that, being ill, I left the zayat about noon. Moung A was with me in the afternoon. His case is becoming extremely interesting. He is a bright young man, with a small family, formerly belonged to Cæsar’s household, and bore a considerable title, which was forfeited through false accusation. He began last night to pray to the eternal God.

“July 11. Lord’s day. Several came in during worship, and behaved decently, though they would not put themselves into a devotional posture, or join in the responses. One man, in particular, professed to be excessively delighted with the new and wonderful things which he heard. Moung A present at evening worship, but he remains in a very critical state. No wine to be procured in this place, on which account we are unable to unite with the other churches, this day, in partaking of the Lord’s supper.

353“July 12. A Burman day of worship. In the morning, received private information that the deputy governor, as I conjectured, did actually report me to Ava. If any order be given immediately, whether favorable or unfavorable, it may be expected in the course of a fortnight. Felt rather dejected, but endeavored to put my trust in God, and resolve to work while the day lasts. The zayats being all full of worshippers, I took my seat on a brick under the shed over the great idol, and, from morning till night, crowd succeeded crowd. Some became outrageously angry, and some listened with delight. Some said, ‘He is a good man’; but others said, ‘Nay, he deceiveth the people.’ About noon, heard Moung Dway’s voice on the other side of the idol. Pastor Ing was busy in another quarter. At home, Moung En received a visit from Myat-pyoo, one of the two persons mentioned on the 4th. He is sixty-nine years old, a little deaf, very timid and retiring. My expectations of him are not disappointed. He says that he thinks this is the true religion, and the only one that provides a way of escape from hell, of which he is exceedingly afraid, in consequence of his many, many sins.

“July 13. Took up my position at my favorite zayat. It stands at the crossing of two great roads, the one leading from the river-side to Shway San-dau, and the other from the town to the place of burying, or rather burning, the dead. Several funeral processions pass every day, and many of the followers, in going or returning, stop at my zayat to rest. To-day there was a funeral of distinction, and all the officers of Government, with their respective suites, attended. In consequence of this, the crowd around me was greater than ever before. But they were not hearers of the right stamp. Most of them, being adherents of Government, were rude, insolent, and wicked in the extreme. A few considerate persons remained till night, particularly one man, on whose account I also remained, though dreadfully exhausted. He has been with me two days, and I have a little hope that he begins to feel the force of truth.

“July 14. Another day of hard conflict. The enemy begins 354to be alarmed, and his forces come on fresh and fierce, while we, few in number, have to sustain the combat without any human reinforcement. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. At night, felt an entire prostration of strength, so much so that I was unable to go through with the evening service as usual.”

To the same.

“Prome, August 23, 1830.

“Dear Brethren and Sisters: Tired of minuting down the events of each day, I have written nothing since my last date, July 16. My time has been spent in the same way as stated in the first part of that month. At one period the whole town seemed to be roused to listen to the news of an eternal God, the mission of His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, and the way of salvation through His atonement. A considerable proportion of the hearers became favorably disposed. At length the enemy assumed a threatening aspect; the poor people became frightened; many sent back the tracts they had received; and there was a general falling off at the zayats. I was summoned to undergo a long examination at the court-house, not, however, on the subject of religion, but concerning all my past life since I have been in Burmah. The result was forwarded to Ava. The magistrates still preserve a perfect neutrality, in consequence of the absence of the governor. At Ava I have been regarded as a suspicious character ever since I deserted them at the close of the war, and went over to the British. I know not what impressions the governor of this place will there receive, or how he will feel toward me when he is informed of the noise I have made in Prome during his absence.

“On hearing of the declining health of brother Boardman, and brother Wade’s intention of leaving Rangoon for Maulmain, I had some thoughts of returning immediately to Rangoon. But, on further consideration and prayer, I feel that I must work while the day lasts at Prome. I have some company at the zayats every day, and crowds on days of worship. Most of the hearers are opposers; but I observe in distant corners those who listen with eagerness. There are 355five persons who have, I trust, obtained a little grace; but in the present dark time, they give no satisfactory evidence.

“August 30. Since my last letters from Rangoon, I think continually of brother Boardman, and the great loss we are threatened with. May the Lord direct and support him and our dear sister.”

. . . . . . . . . .

Letter to the Missionaries at Rangoon and Maulmain, and the Corresponding

Secretary in Boston, U. S.

“Below Prome, September 18, 1830.

“Afloat on my own little boat, manned by none other than my three disciples, I take leave of Prome and her towering god Shway Lan-dau, at whose base I have been laboring, with not the kindest intentions, for the last three months and a half. Too firmly founded art thou, old pile, to be overthrown just at present; but the children of those who now plaster thee with gold will yet pull thee down, nor leave one brick upon another.

“The Government writer, Moung Kywet-nee, who recommenced visiting us a few days ago, has been hanging about us for two hours, lamenting our departure; and he is now sitting alone at the water’s edge, looking after our boat as it floats down the stream. ‘Mark me as your disciple; I pray to God every day; do you also pray for me; as soon as I can get free from my present engagements, I intend to come down to Rangoon,’ are some of his last expressions.

“The sun is just setting. We could not get our boat ready earlier in the day; and, as it is Saturday evening, we intend to proceed as far as Men-dai, in order to spend the Lord’s day there. There is no period of my missionary life that I review with more satisfaction, or, rather, with less dissatisfaction, than my sojourn in Prome. This city was founded several hundred years before the Christian era. Through how many ages have the successive generations of its dark inhabitants lived and died, without the slightest knowledge of the Great Eternal, and the only way of salvation which He has provided! At length, in the year 1830, it was ordered that a missionary of the cross should sit down in the heart 356of the city, and from day to day, for above three months, should pour forth divine truth in language which, if not eloquent and acceptable, was at least intelligible to all ranks. What a wonderful phenomenon must this have been to celestial beings, who gaze upon the works and dispensations of God in this lower world! It was necessary to the accomplishment of the divine purpose, that, after so many centuries of darkness, there should be such an exhibition of light as has been made, and no more. Thousands have heard of God who never, nor their ancestors, heard before. Frequently, in passing through the streets, and in taking my seat in the zayats, I have felt such a solemnity and awe on my spirits as almost prevented me from opening my lips to communicate the momentous message with which I was charged. How the preacher has preached, and how the hearers have heard, the day of judgment will show. Oh, how many will find their everlasting chains more tight and intolerable on account of the very warnings and entreaties they have received from my lips! But what more can be done than has been done? Though warned and entreated, they have wilfully, obstinately, and blasphemously refused to listen. But, blessed be God, there are some whose faces I expect to see at the right hand of the great Judge. The young man just mentioned, the carpenter, Moung Shway-hlah, a poor man, by name Moung Oo, in addition to some others mentioned in former letters, give us reason to hope that they have received the truth in good and honest hearts. Many also there are who have become so far enlightened that I am sure they never can bow the knee to Shway Lan-dau, without a distressing conviction that they are in the wrong way. Farewell to thee, Prome! Willingly would I have spent my last breath in thee and for thee. But thy sons ask me not to stay; and I must preach the Gospel to other cities also, for therefore am I sent. Read the five hundred tracts that I have left with thee. Pray to the God and Saviour that I have told thee of. And if hereafter thou call me, though in the lowest whisper, and it reach me in the very extremities of the empire, I will joyfully listen, and come back to thee.”

357

“Men-dai, September 19.

“Spent the day in the zayat which I formerly occupied. The crowds were very noisy, but some listened with attention. Distributed nearly a hundred tracts. Mai Goo came from her village with two other women, one of whom appears to have grace. But Mah Wen-yo and Mah Ping were not seasonably apprised of our arrival. Just at night, dropped down to a small village below Men-dai, that we might have a little evening worship by ourselves.”

“Near Rangoon, September 24.

“We have distributed four hundred tracts between this and Men-dai, having touched at many of the principal places, and spent an hour or two, or a night, as we could make it convenient. We should have stopped oftener and stayed longer had not our stock of tracts become exhausted. My people, also, began to be impatient at the restless nights we were obliged to spend, on account of the insufferable annoyance of mosquitoes on the banks of the river in the lower country at this season of the year.

“September 25. Came in sight of my old acquaintance, Shway Da-gong; landed once more in Rangoon; found letters from Maulmain, saying that brother Boardman is considerably better, for which I desire to thank God; repaired to the house lately occupied by brother Wade. Since his departure, I find that some efforts have been made to check the progress of religious inquiry. At one time men were stationed at a little distance, on each side of the house, to threaten those who visited the place, and take away the tracts they had received. Reports were circulated that Government was about to make a public example of heretics; the crowds that used to come for tracts all disappeared, and Pastor Thah-a, who continued to occupy the house, became intimidated, and retreated to his own obscure dwelling. Things are, therefore, at a very low ebb; but we trust in God that the tide will flow again in its own appointed time.”

“October 8. Have just received intelligence that about the 1st of September the king issued an order that I should be removed from Prome, ‘being exceedingly annoyed that I was 358there, in the interior of the country, distributing papers, and abusing the Burmese religion.’ The woon-gyees, being unwilling to proceed to extremities, made application to Major Burney, the British resident at Ava, who assured them that he had no control over me; that I was in no way connected with the British Government, but employed exclusively in the duties of my profession; and he begged them not to proceed to adopt a measure which would be condemned as intolerant by good men of all countries. They said, however, that his majesty’s order was peremptory, and that it was necessary for me to confine my labors within the limits of Rangoon. Major Burney then consented to write me on the subject.”

Although Mr. Judson was foiled in this effort to carry the Gospel into the interior of Burmah, yet he did not withdraw immediately to Maulmain, but remained for almost a year laboring at Rangoon, situated just within the gate of the empire. He retreated only step by step from before Burman intolerance, disputing every inch of the ground.

Just at this time the whole land seemed peculiarly pervaded by a spirit of religious thirst. Everybody was curious to know about this new religion. The people seemed to catch eagerly at every scrap of information relating to Christianity. The ears of the heathen, to use their own vivid expression, had become thinner. Mr. Judson’s house was thronged with inquirers. While he was not permitted in person to preach in the interior of the country, yet in Rangoon he freely distributed tracts, and translations of the Scriptures, which sped on their way far up the Irrawaddy toward Ava. He thought it wise to take advantage of this flood-tide of eager curiosity. A nation has its moods as well as an individual. Wasteful indolence might indeed substitute the lavish and indiscriminate use of printer’s ink for the personal preaching of the Gospel by the living voice. But, carefully watching the pulse of Burman life, he believed that at last the time had come when the printed page might 359be made a mighty engine for good, and could not be too freely used. Hence, to Mr. Bennett, the printer, and to the other missionaries at Maulmain, he sent those agonizing appeals for more tracts, the echoes of which were wafted even to our own land.

To the Missionaries at Maulmain, particularly Mr. Bennett.

“Rangoon, November 13, 1830.

“Dear Brethren: I wrote you lately by Ko Ing, since which I have received yours by Moung En. We continue to distribute about forty tracts a day, and should gladly double the number if we could depend on a supply from Maulmain. By tracts I mean not the single sheets or handbills,^[42] containing merely a scrap of Scripture, which, being wholly inadequate to give any full idea of the Christian religion, it is impossible to mock any poor soul with, when he holds out his hand for such spiritual food as his case requires. They do well enough among the converts, and if you find they are useful in your parts, I shall be happy to send you back those I have on hand, for there is no demand for that article here in the present state of the mission.... But by tracts I mean the View, the Catechism, the Balance, and the Investigator. I earnestly beg the brethren to wake up to the importance of sending a regular supply of all these articles. How long we shall be allowed a footing in Rangoon is very uncertain. While a missionary is here, a constant stream ought to be poured into the place. Rangoon is the key of the country. From this place tracts go into every quarter. I could write sheets on the subject, but I trust that it is unnecessary. Six weeks have elapsed since I wrote for the Balance, and for a few only, as I did not wish to distress any one, and though it was then out of print, it is not yet put to press. And why? Because the Epitome has been in the way. I am glad the Epitome is printed; but after all, we shall not give away one a week of that article. The state of things does not immediately require it. But of the Balance 360I shall give away one hundred a week. There are daily calls for it. During the last six weeks I should have given away one thousand of the Balance, and they would now be circulating all over the country. I found twenty in the house on my arrival, and have been dealing them out like drops of heart’s blood. There are few left. I did expect some by Moung En; but alas! out popped two bundles of scrippets.^[43] The book of Scripture Extracts, however, I am thankful for. I do not write this with any disposition to find fault. I am sure you have done all for the best; and I feel for brother Bennett in his labors at the press. I only blame myself that I have not been more explicit, and written more urgently on the subject.”

To Mr. Bennett.

“Rangoon, February 7, 1831.

“Dear Brother Bennett: I wrote lately by Moung San-lone, saying that the great festival falls on the 25th instant, and begging that, until that time, no tracts might be circulated in your quarter, but that everything that could be got ready should be sent hither. If you listen to that petition, well; if not, to repeat it, with all the urgency of a dying man, would be of no use. We were giving away at the rate of three to four hundred per day, until I became alarmed, and reduced the allowance to two hundred. We are just, therefore, keeping our heads above water. But we have no hopes of being ready for the festival unless you pour in fifteen or twenty thousand more between this time and that. We have had none since the arrival of Moung En. He and A brought good supplies; but, alas! no Views, and but few Balances and Investigators. O when will the time come that I shall have as much as I want, and of the right kind! I have labored to very great disadvantage ever since I came down from Prome, for want of the right kind of supply. If, instead of printing such a variety, the brethren had aimed only at furnishing a sufficient supply of the necessaries of life, how much better it would have been! I should not then have been left for months without the Balance, or any 361equivalent, nor be left, as I now am, month after month, without the View—the staple commodity. How distressing it is when the poor people come crying for the elements of the Christian religion, to be obliged to give them one of the small numbers of the Scripture Extracts, which singly can give them no idea! By the way, I beg you will send no more of No. 8: it is just good for nothing in the present state of things. I do not write thus by way of finding fault with my brethren; I am quite sure that you have meant all for the best. I have made too many mistakes, and criminal ones too, all my life long, to allow me to find fault with others. I only hope that things will now be kept in such a train as to prevent my being reduced again to the straits I have been in for several months. When you have made “arrangements to insure a supply of the four standard articles, so that we can always have as many of such kind, and of all the kinds, as the state of the market requires, I would recommend to the brethren to issue a small edition of three thousand of the First Epistle of John. I once thought of Luke; but if you take hold of that we shall be left to starve again for want of the necessaries of life. You say that there are fourteen hundred of the Scripture Extracts remaining; and these, stitched together, or in two parts, will answer to give in cases where something more than the four standards is required. As to the Septenary, I would suggest that it is to be kept for special cases, and not distributed promiscuously, for you will not want to print another edition immediately. It was not intended for general circulation, but to be kept on hand for the converts and hopeful inquirers. As to your plan of printing the Catechism and View together, it is most excellent. You can not furnish too many of that article. As to the Balance, it is now all the rage, particularly with the cut. I suppose you can not clap the cut on the covers of those that have it not. It doubles the value. I presume that from fifty to one hundred per day inquire particularly for the Balance, and we are obliged to turn them off with something very inadequate to their exigency. Is not this most awful? Only contrast the countenance of one who has No. 8 362forced upon him instead of the Balance, and goes away feeling very ‘gritty’ with the countenance of another who seizes upon the desired article, gloats upon the interesting Bennett cut, and goes away almost screaming and jumping for joy.

“I see, on reperusing your letter, that you speak of a second edition of the Septenary. I have no objection, provided it does not deprive us again of the necessaries of life. I hope, however, you will not abandon the study of the language. The proverb of the ‘cat and her skin’ I do not like. I have a much better one from the first authority. ‘My son,’ said the head jailer of the death-prison at Ava to an under-jailer, who was complaining that they could get no more out of a poor fellow whom they had been tormenting for several days, his wife and house being completely stripped—‘my son’ said the venerable old man, ‘be sure you have never wrung a rag so dry but that another twist will bring another drop.’”....

To a Minister in Thompson, Conn.

“Rangoon, March 4, 1831.

“The great annual festival is just past, during which multitudes come from the remotest parts of the country to worship at the great Shway Da-gong pagoda in this place, where it is believed that several real hairs of Gaudama are enshrined. During the festival I have given away nearly ten thousand tracts, giving to none but those who ask. I presume there have been six thousand applications at the house. Some come two or three months’ journey, from the borders of Siam and China—‘Sir, we hear that there is an eternal hell. We are afraid of it. Do give us a writing that will tell us how to escape it.’ Others come from the frontiers of Kathay, a hundred miles north of Ava—‘Sir, we have seen a writing that tells about an eternal God. Are you the man that gives away such writings? If so, pray give us one, for we want to know the truth before we die.’ Others come from the interior of the country, where the name of Jesus Christ is a little known—‘Are you Jesus Christ’s man? Give us a writing that tells about Jesus Christ.’ Brother Bennett 363works day and night at the press; but he is unable to supply us, for the call is great at Maulmain and Tavoy as well as here, and his types are very poor, and he has no efficient help.”

But while thus striving to satisfy the thirst of the Burmans for religious knowledge, he did not intermit his long and laborious task of translating the Scriptures. He shut himself up in the garret of the mission-house, leaving his Burman associates to deal with the inquirers below, only referring to him the more important cases. In his seclusion, he made such long strides in his work that, at the close of his stay at Rangoon, he wrote in his journal, “1831, July 19, finished the translation of Genesis, twenty chapters of Exodus, Psalms, Solomon’s Song, Isaiah, and Daniel.” An English lady who visited Rangoon in 1830, and who ventured to penetrate his seclusion, thus describes the interior of his study:

A Visit to Mr. Judson in 1830.^[44]

“Being unexpectedly in Rangoon in the autumn of 1830, and hearing that the justly-celebrated American missionary, good Mr. Judson, was still there, with indefatigable zeal prosecuting his ‘labor of love’ in the conversion of the Burmese, I was extremely anxious to see him; and, having informed ourselves that a visit from English travellers would not be deemed a disagreeable intrusion, the captain, his wife, and myself immediately proceeded to Mr. Judson’s house.

“It was a Burman habitation, to which we had to ascend by a ladder; and we entered a large, low room through a space like a trap-door. The beams of the roof were uncovered, and the window-frames were open, after the fashion of Burman houses. The furniture consisted of a table in the centre of the room, a few stools, and a desk, with writings and books neatly arranged on one side. We were soon seated, and were most anxious to hear all that the good man had to say, who, in a resigned tone, spoke of his departed wife in a manner which plainly showed that he had set his affections ‘where alone true joy can be found.’ He dwelt with much pleasure on the translation of the Bible into the Burman language. He had completed the New Testament, and 364was then as far as the Psalms in the Old Testament, which having finished, he said he trusted it would be the will of his heavenly Father to call him to his everlasting home.

“Of the conversions going on amongst the Burmese he spoke with certainty, not doubting that when the flame of Christianity did burst forth, it would surprise even him by its extent and brilliancy. As we were thus conversing, the bats, which frequent the houses at Rangoon, began to take their evening round, and whirled closer and closer till they came in almost disagreeable contact with our heads; and the flap of the heavy wings so near us interrupting the conversation, we at length reluctantly took our leave and departed. And this, thought I, as I descended the dark ladder, is the solitary abode of Judson, whom after-ages shall designate, most justly, the great and the good. It is the abode of one of whom the world is not worthy; of one who has been imprisoned, chained, and starved, and yet who dares still to prosecute his work in the midst of the people who have thus treated him. America may indeed be proud of having given birth to so excellent and admirable a man, who, amidst the trials, sufferings, and bereavements with which it has pleased Heaven to afflict him, still stands with his lamp brightly burning waiting his Lord’s coming.

“If there be any man of whom we may without presumption feel assured that we will hear the joyful words, ‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant,’ it is certainly the pious Judson, the great and persevering founder of Christianity in a land of dark idolatry and superstition.”

It was about this time that the Mission Board in this country sent him an earnest and affectionate invitation to revisit his native land. He was about forty-two years old, and had been absent from America eighteen years. His health was shattered. His family he had laid in the grave. He said several years later that he had never seen a ship sail out of the port of Maulmain bound for England or America without an almost irrepressible inclination to get on board and visit again the home of his boyhood. And yet in reply to this urgent invitation from his brethren, he wrote:

To the Corresponding Secretary.

“Rangoon, December 20, 1830.

“Rev. and dear Sir: I am happy to inform the Board that my health, which was rather impaired some time ago, is 365now quite good; so that I should not feel justified in accepting their invitation to return home.

“At the same time, the kind feeling which dictated the invitation, and the affection, though undeserved, which breathes in every line, have made an indelible impression on my heart. I must confess that, in meditating on the subject, I have felt an almost unconquerable desire to become personally acquainted with my beloved patrons and correspondents, the members of the Board, as well as to rove once more over the hills and valleys of my own native land, to recognize the still surviving companions of my youth, and to witness the widespread and daily-increasing glories of Immanuel’s kingdom in that land of liberty, blessed of Heaven with temporal and spiritual blessings above all others.

“However, I anticipate a happier meeting, brighter plains, friends the same, but more lovely and beloved; and I expect soon to witness, yea, enjoy, that glory in comparison of which all on earth is but a shadow. With that anticipation I content myself, assured that we shall not then regret any instance of self-denial or suffering endured for the Lord of life and glory.”

And yet he was so forgetful of self, cared, with almost womanly tenderness, for the health and comfort of his associates in missionary toil.

To the Missionaries in Maulmain.

“Rangoon, March 3, 1831.

“Dear Brethren and Sisters: I am grieved that sister Wade, after running down to Amherst, and deriving a little benefit during a few days’ stay, thinks she must return, and probably has by this time returned, because sister Bennett is quite worn out, ‘having everything to do.’ Now, it appears to me that the better way to have remedied that evil would have been for sister Bennett to run away from all her cares and take the air at Amherst too.

“Mrs. Jones, I hear, is also ill, and Mrs. Kincaid has not, I 366believe, much health to spare. Now, as you have two months of very trying weather to sustain, I earnestly beg that you will all take into serious consideration the propriety of repairing Landale’s house forthwith, or some other, and placing one or two of the ladies, by turns, to keep the post, until the rainy season sets in. Mrs. Wade, I humbly conceive, ought to be immediately apprehended and sent back as a deserter. And certainly no one ought to hesitate a moment at leaving mission or domestic cares for the preservation of health. When our best beloved are once laid in the cold grave, no cries, or tears, or remorse will bring them back. Many faithful servants and handmaids of the Lord might have been spared many years, had they only relaxed before they made their last effort.

“If you have a house at Amherst during the hot season, some of the brethren, too, may be benefited by an excursion thither. Brother Bennett will certainly need a week’s relaxation there or somewhere else.... However, I only submit these hasty thoughts for your consideration. You are on the spot, and know better than I what is necessary and proper. May God preserve your precious lives many years; for, though the prospect of death may not be grievous, but joyous, ‘the harvest is plenteous, and the laborers are few.’”

While in Rangoon he received the heavy tidings that the beloved Boardman had died in the jungles back of Tavoy.

He thus wrote to the Corresponding Secretary:

“One of the brightest luminaries of Burmah is extinguished; dear brother Boardman has gone to his eternal rest. I have heard no particulars, except that he died on returning from his last expedition to the Karen villages, within one day’s march of Tavoy. He fell gloriously at the head of his troops, in the arms of victory; thirty-eight wild Karens having been brought into the camp of King Jesus since the beginning of the year, besides the thirty-two that were brought in during the two preceding years. Disabled by mortal wounds, he was obliged, through the whole of his last expedition, to be carried on a litter; but his presence was 367a host, and the Holy Spirit accompanied his dying whispers with almighty influence. Such a death, next to that of martyrdom, must be glorious in the eyes of Heaven. Well may we rest assured that a triumphal crown awaits him on the great day, and ‘Well done, good and faithful Boardman, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.” I have great confidence in sister Boardman, that she will not desert her husband’s post, but carry on the work which he has gloriously begun.”

Sorrow had come upon the Boardman household in quick and uninterrupted succession. Mrs. Boardman wrote:

“In our domestic relation, the hand of the Lord has been very heavy upon us. About a year and a half ago we lost our eldest child, a lovely daughter, two years and eight months old; four months since, we buried our youngest, a sweet little boy of eight months and a half.”

The death of the eldest child is thus pathetically described by Mrs. Boardman’s biographer:

“‘Sarah is as plump and rosy-cheeked as we could wish. Oh! how delighted you would be to see her, and hear her prattle!’ Thus wrote the mother in her happiness; and, in a little more than two weeks after, she saw her darling, speechless and motionless, in her little shroud. ‘I knew all the time,’ says the bereaved parent, ‘that she was very ill; but it did not once occur to me that she might die, till she was seized with the apoplexy, about three hours before she closed her eyes upon us forever. Oh! the agony of that moment!’ And in that agonized moment, as the shadow of eternity fell upon the spirit of the little sufferer, and a vista, which her eye could not discern, but from which her failing nature instinctively recoiled, opened before her, she looked with anxious alarm into her mother’s face, and exclaimed: ‘I frightened! mamma! I frightened!’ What a strange thing is death. The tender nursling, who, in moments of even imagined ill, had clung to the mother’s bosom, and been sheltered in her arms, now hovered over a dark, unfathomed gulf, and turned pleadingly to the same shield—but it had failed. The mother’s arm was powerless; her foot could not follow; and the trembling babe passed on alone, to find her fears allayed on an angel’s bosom.”

Little Sarah’s death was soon followed by the revolt of Tavoy, and during this brief uprising of the Burmans against their masters, Mr. Boardman had been subjected to an exposure and hardship such as his consumptive habit was ill 368able to endure. From that time he visibly declined. To use Mrs. E. C. Judson’s words: “His cheeks were a little more hollow, and the color on them more flickering; his eyes were brighter, and seemingly more deeply set beneath the brow, and immediately below them was a faint, indistinct arc of mingled ash and purple like the shadow of a faded leaf; his lips were sometimes of a clayey pallor, and sometimes they glowed with crimson; and his fingers were long, and the hands of a partially transparent thinness.”

The newly-appointed missionary to the Karens, Mr. Mason, arrived in Tavoy June 3, 1831. “On the jetty,” he wrote, “reclining helplessly in the chair which had served the purpose of a carriage, a pale, worn-out man, with the characters of death in his countenance, waited to welcome his successor.” Mr. Boardman was preparing to take a tour into the jungle in order to baptize some recent Karen converts. His emaciated form was to be carried on a litter several days’ journey into the wilderness. Remonstrance was unavailing; for he had set his heart upon accomplishing his purpose. Besides, it was thought that the change of air might do him good. Even after setting out, he was advised to return; but his reply was: “The cause of God is of more importance than my health, and if I return now, our whole object will be defeated. I want to see the work of the Lord go on.” The closing scene of his life is thus described by Mrs. Boardman:

“On Wednesday evening thirty-four persons were baptized. Mr. Boardman was carried to the water-side, though so weak that he could hardly breathe without the continual use of the fan and the smelling-bottle. The joyful sight was almost too much for his feeble frame. When we reached the chapel, he said he would like to sit up and take tea with us. We placed his cot near the table, and having bolstered him up, we took tea together. He asked the blessing, and did it with his right hand upraised, and in a tone that struck me to the heart. It was the same tremulous, yet urgent, and I had almost said, unearthly voice, with which my aged grandfather used to pray. We now began to notice that brightening of the mental faculties which I had heard spoken of in persons near their end.

369“After tea was removed, all the disciples present, about fifty in number, gathered around him, and he addressed them for a few moments in language like the following: ‘I did hope to stay with you till after Lord’s day, and administer to you once more the Lord’s supper. But God is calling me away from you. I am about to die, and shall soon be inconceivably happy in heaven. When I am gone, remember what I have taught you; and O, be careful to persevere unto the end, that when you die we may meet one another in the presence of God, never more to part. Listen to the word of the new teacher and the teacheress as you have done to mine. The teacheress will be very much distressed. Strive to lighten her burdens, and comfort her by your good conduct. Do not neglect prayer. The eternal God to whom you pray is unchangeable. Earthly teachers sicken and die, but God remains forever the same. Love Jesus Christ with all your hearts, and you will be forever safe.’ This address I gathered from the Karens, as I was absent preparing his things for the night. Having rested a few minutes, he offered a short prayer, and then, with Mr. Mason’s assistance, distributed tracts and portions of Scripture to them all. Early the next morning we left for home, accompanied by nearly all the males and some of the females, the remainder returning to their homes in the wilderness. Mr. Boardman was free from pain during the day, and there was no unfavorable change, except that his mouth grew sore. But at four o’clock in the afternoon we were overtaken by a violent shower of rain, accompanied by lightning and thunder. There was no house in sight, and we were obliged to remain in the open air, exposed to the merciless storm. We covered him with mats and blankets, and held our umbrellas over him, all to no purpose. I was obliged to stand and see the storm beating upon him, till his mattress and pillows were drenched with rain. We hastened on, and soon came to a Tavoy house. The inhabitants at first refused us admittance, and we ran for shelter into the out-houses. The shed I happened to enter proved to be the ‘house of their gods,’ and thus I committed an almost unpardonable offence. After some persuasion they admitted us into the house, or rather veranda, for they would not allow us to sleep inside, though I begged the privilege for my sick husband with tears. In ordinary cases, perhaps, they would have been hospitable; but they knew that Mr. Boardman was the teacher of a foreign religion, and that the Karens in our company had embraced that religion.

“At evening worship, Mr. Boardman requested Mr. Mason to read the thirty-fourth Psalm. He seemed almost spent, and said, ‘This poor perishing dust will soon be laid in the grave; but God can employ other lumps of clay to perform His will as easily as He has this poor unworthy one.’ I told him I should like to sit up and watch by him, but he objected, 370and said in a tender, supplicating tone, ‘Can not we sleep together?’ The rain still continued, and his cot was wet, so that he was obliged to lie on the bamboo floor. Having found a place where our little boy could sleep without danger of falling through openings in the floor, I threw myself down, without undressing, beside my beloved husband. I spoke to him often during the night, and he said he felt well, excepting an uncomfortable feeling in his mouth and throat. This was somewhat relieved by frequent washings with cold water. Miserably wretched as his situation was, he did not complain; on the contrary, his heart seemed overflowing with gratitude. ‘O,’ said he, ‘how kind and good our Father in heaven is to me; how many are racked with pain, while I, though near the grave, am almost free from distress of body. I suffer nothing, nothing to what you, my dear Sarah, had to endure last year, when I thought I must lose you. And then I have you to move me so tenderly. I should have sunk into the grave ere this, but for your assiduous attention. And brother Mason is as kind to me as if he were my own brother. And then how many, in addition to pain of body, have anguish of soul, while my mind is sweetly stayed on God.’ On my saying, ‘I hope we shall be at home to-morrow night, where you can lie on your comfortable bed, and I can nurse you as I wish,’ he said, ‘I want nothing that the world can afford but my wife and friends; earthly conveniences and comforts are of little consequence to one so near heaven. I only want them for your sake.’ In the morning we thought him a little better, though I perceived, when I gave him his sago, that his breath was very short. He, however, took rather more nourishment than usual, and spoke about the manner of his conveyance home. We ascertained that by waiting until twelve o’clock we could go the greater part of the way by water.

“At about nine o’clock his hands and feet grew cold, and the affectionate Karens rubbed them all the forenoon, excepting a few moments when he requested to be left alone. At ten o’clock he was much distressed for breath, and I thought the long-dreaded moment had arrived. I asked him if he felt as if he was going home,—‘Not just yet,’ he replied. On giving him a little wine and water he revived. Shortly after, he said, ‘You were alarmed without cause just now, dear—I know the reason of the distress I felt, but am too weak to explain it to you.’ In a few moments he said to me, ‘Since you spoke to me about George, I have prayed for him almost incessantly—more than in all my life before.’

“It drew near twelve, the time for us to go to the boat. We were distressed at the thought of removing him, when evidently so near the last struggle, though we did not think it so near as it really was. But there was no alternative. The chilling frown of the iron-faced Tavoyan was 371to us as if he was continually saying, ‘Be gone.’ I wanted a little broth for my expiring husband, but on asking them for a fowl they said they had none, though at that instant, on glancing my eye through an opening in the floor, I saw three or four under the house. My heart was well-nigh breaking.

“We hastened to the boat, which was only a few steps from the house. The Karens carried Mr. Boardman first, and as the shore was muddy, I was obliged to wait till they could return for me. They took me immediately to him; but O, the agony of my soul when I saw the hand of death was on him! He was looking me full in the face, but his eyes were changed, not dimmed, but brightened, and the pupils so dilated that I feared he could not see me. I spoke to him—kissed him—but he made no return, though I fancied that he tried to move his lips. I pressed his hand, knowing that, if he could, he would return the pressure; but, alas! for the first time, he was insensible to my love, and forever. I had brought a glass of wine and water already mixed, and a smelling-bottle, but neither was of any avail to him now. Agreeably to a previous request, I called the faithful Karens, who loved him so much and whom he had loved unto death, to come and watch his last gentle breathings, for there was no struggle.

“Never, my dear parents, did one of our poor fallen race have less to contend with in the last enemy. Little George was brought to see his dying father, but he was too young to know there was cause for grief. When Sarah died, her father said to George, ‘Poor little boy, you will not know to-morrow what you have lost to-day.’ A deep pang rent my bosom at the recollection of this, and a still deeper one succeeded when the thought struck me, that though my little boy may not know to-morrow what he has lost to-day, yet when years have rolled by, and he shall have felt the unkindness of a deceitful, selfish world, he will know.”

Death of Boardman.^[45]

“Pale with sickness, weak and worn,

Is the Christian hero borne

Over hill, and brook, and fen,

By his band of swart, wild men,

Dainty odors floating back

From their blossom-crushing track.

“Through the jungle, vast and dim,

Swells out Nature’s matin hymn:

372Bulbuls ’mid the berries red,

Showers of mellow music shed;

Thrushes ’neath their crimson hoods

Chant their loves along the woods;

“And the heron, as he springs

Up, with startled rush of wings,

Joins the gorgeous peacock’s scream;

While the gushing of the stream

Gives sweet cadence to the hymn,

Swelling through the jungle dim.

“So they bear him on his way,

Till the sunless sky is gray;

Then within some lone zayat

Gentle fingers spread the mat;

And a watcher, sad and wan,

Bends above him till the dawn.

“Up and on! The tangled brake

Hides the deadly water-snake;

And the tiger, from his lair

Half up-springing, snuffs the air,

Doubtful gazing where they pass,

Trailing through the long wet grass.

“Day has faded—rosy dawn

Blushed again o’er wood and lawn;

Day has deepened—level beams

Light the brook in changeful gleams,

Breaking in a golden flood

Round strange groupings in the wood.

“There, where mountains wild and high

Range their peaks along the sky,

Lo! they pause. A crimson glow

Burns upon that cheek of snow;

And within the eyes’ soft blue

Quiver tears like drops of dew.

“Upward, from the wooded dell,

High the joyous greetings swell,

Peal on peal; then circling round,

Turbaned heads salute the ground,

373While upon the dewy air

Floats a faint, soft voice in prayer.

“With the fever on his cheek,

Breathing forth his teachings meek,

Long the Gospel-bearer lies,

Till the stars have climbed the skies,

And the young moon’s slender rim

Hides behind the mountain grim.

“’Twas for this sweet boon he came,

Crushing back Death’s eager claim;

Yet a few more lambs to fold,

Ere he mingles with the mold—

Lambs with torn and crimsoned fleece,

Wildered in this wilderness.

“Once again the golden day

Drops her veil of silver gray;

And that dark-eyed mountain band

Print with bare, brown feet the sand,

Or the crystal wave turn back,

Rippling from their watery track.

“Meekly down the river’s bed

Sire and son alike are led,

Parting the baptismal flood,

As of old in Judah’s wood;

While throughout the sylvan glen

Rings the stern, deep-voiced Amen.

“With the love-light in his eyes,

Mute the dying teacher lies.

It is finished. Bear him back!

Haste along the jungle track!

See the lid uplifting now—

See the glory on his brow.

“It is finished. Wood and glen

Sigh their mournful, meek Amen.

’Mid that circle, sorrow spanned,

Clasping close an icy hand,

Lo! the midnight watcher wan,

Waiting yet another dawn.”

374When Mrs. Boardman with her son George, about two years and a half old, were thus suddenly left in all the perplexity and desolation of widowhood and fatherlessness, she received from Mr. Judson the following words of tenderest consolation and counsel:

To Mrs. Boardman.

“Rangoon, March 4, 1831.

“My dear Sister: You are now drinking the bitter cup whose dregs I am somewhat acquainted with. And though, for some time, you have been aware of its approach, I venture to say that it is far bitterer than you expected. It is common for persons in your situation to refuse all consolation, to cling to the dead, and to fear that they shall too soon forget the dear object of their affections. But don’t be concerned. I can assure you that months and months of heartrending anguish are before you, whether you will or not. I can only advise you to take the cup with both hands, and sit down quietly to the bitter repast which God has appointed for your sanctification. As to your beloved, you know that all his tears are wiped away, and that the diadem which encircles his brow outshines the sun. Little Sarah and the other have again found their father, not the frail, sinful mortal that they left on earth, but an immortal saint, a magnificent, majestic king. What more can you desire for them? While, therefore, your tears flow, let a due proportion be tears of joy. Yet take the bitter cup with both hands, and sit down to your repast. You will soon learn a secret, that there is sweetness at the bottom. You will find it the sweetest cup that you ever tasted in all your life. You will find heaven coming near to you, and familiarity with your husband’s voice will be a connecting link, drawing you almost within the sphere of celestial music.

“I think, from, what I know of your mind, that you will not desert the post, but remain to carry on the work which he gloriously began. The Karens of Tavoy regard you as their spiritual mother; and the dying prayers of your beloved are waiting to be answered in blessings on your instructions.

375“As to little Georgie, who has now no earthly father to care for him, you can not, of course, part with him at present. But if you should wish to send him home, I pledge myself to use what little influence I have in procuring for him all those advantages of education which your fondest wishes can desire. Or if you should be prematurely taken away, and should condescend, on your dying bed, to commit him to me, by the briefest line or verbal message, I hereby pledge my fidelity to receive and treat him as my own son, to send him home in the best time and way, to provide for his education, and to watch over him as long as I live. More than this I can not do, and less would be unworthy of the merits of his parents.”

376