Chapter IX · LIFE IN MAULMAIN. 1827-1831.

Before proceeding directly to consider Mr. Judson’s life in Maulmain, it may be well to describe a peculiar phase of his mental and spiritual experience, which has been termed Guyonism. He seemed at one time to be inclined to embrace the mystical tenets of Thomas à Kempis, Fénélon, and Madame Guyon, and it was feared that he was leaning toward those monkish austerities which belong peculiarly to the spirit of the Roman Church. Certainly there are passages here and there in his writings which point in this direction. And yet, often in these extracts it can be discerned with what cautious and stealthy steps he trod the perilous pathway leading toward monastic asceticism. On the occasion of sending a gift of money to his sister in America, he writes:

“But I give it on the express condition that you appropriate part of it to purchase for yourself the life of Lady Guyon ... and I hope you will read it diligently, and endeavor to emulate that most excellent saint so far as she was right.”

Again, he wrote to a fellow-missionary:

“As to the other matter, the land of Beulah lies beyond the valley of the shadow of death. Many Christians spend all their days in a continual bustle, doing good. They are too busy to find either the valley or Beulah. VirtuesVirtues they have, but are full of the life and attractions of nature, and 304unacquainted with the paths of mortification and death. Let us die as soon as possible, and by whatever process God shall appoint. And when we are dead to the world, and nature, and self, we shall begin to live to God.”

Again, to the missionaries at Maulmain he wrote:

“Particularly I would exhort brother Bennett to remember, among other things, the example of the Abbé de Paris, who, after having tried various modes of self-denial, in order to subdue his spirit, and gain the victory over the world, at length selected a crazy man to be the inmate of his miserable hovel. Now, though I am doubtful about self-inflicted austerities, I am quite sure that evangelical self-denial eminently consists in bearing patiently and gratefully all the inconveniences and pain which God in His providence, brings upon us, without making the least attempt to remove them, unless destructive of life or health, or, in one word, capacity for usefulness.”

The same pietistic vein may be found in the following resolutions, bearing date May 14, 1829:

“1. Observe the seven seasons of secret prayer every day.

“2. ‘Set a watch before my mouth, and keep the door of my lips.’

“3. See the hand of God in all events, and thereby become reconciled to His dispensations.

“4. Embrace every opportunity of exercising kind feelings, and doing good to others, especially to the household of faith.

“5. Consult the internal monitor on every occasion, and instantly comply with his dictates.

“6. Believe in the doctrine of perfect sanctification attainable in this life.”

It is also true that during this period of his life Mr. Judson withdrew himself from general society. When not directly engaged in missionary work, he spent many of his waking hours alone in a bamboo hermitage, built in the jungle far from humankind among the haunts of tigers. Here in 305his endeavor to crucify his passionate love of life he had a grave dug, and “would sit by the verge of it and look into it, imagining how each feature and limb would appear, days, months, and years after he had lain there.”

But concerning all these traces of a morbid inclination toward the monastic quietism of the Romish Church, there can be no more just and discriminating judgment than that expressed after his death by the tender and faithful companion of his latest years:

“About Guyonism I only wish the papers were more numerous. There was no error of heart—scarcely one of judgment in it, but a peculiar mental organization, driven by suffering on suffering, by such bereavement as can never be appreciated in a land like this, and intensity of devotion, to a morbid development. A mind of less strength or a heart of less truthfulness and sincerity would have been wrecked, as many a noble one has been.... Strong enthusiasm of character often drove him into peculiar positions, but his sound judgment and elevated piety always carried him through triumphantly, turning often the natural temperament to good account.”

These excesses of self-mortification were the outcome of a transient and superficial mood rather than of his real and underlying character. The slow torture of the twenty-one months at Ava and Oung-pen-la had left behind a residuum of temporary enfeeblement. His strong mental vision was for a time beclouded by the mists which arose from his shattered physical constitution. The loss of wife and child at Amherst trod close upon the sufferings at Ava, and these gloomy views and practices were born during the long ensuing domestic solitude. The deep shadow of this loneliness lies athwart many of his letters.

To Mrs. Hasseltine.

“The Solitary’s Lament.

“‘Together let us sweetly live,

Together let us die,

306And hand in hand those crowns receive

That wait us in the sky.’

“Thus Ann and I, for many a year,

Together raised our prayer;

One-half reached Heaven’s propitious ear

One-half was lost in air.

“She found a distant, lonely grave,

Her foreign friends among;

No kindred spirit came to save,

None o’er her death-bed hung.

“Her dying thoughts we fain would know;

But who the tale can tell,

Save only that she met the foe,

And where they met she fell.

“And when I came, and saw her not

In all the place around,

They pointed out a grassy spot,

Where she lay under ground.

“And soon another loved one fled,

And sought her mother’s side;

In vain I stayed her drooping head;

She panted, gasped, and died.

“Thus one in beauty’s bright array,

And one all poor and pale,

Have left alike the realms of day,

And wandered down the vale—

“The vale of death, so dark and drear,

Where all things are forgot;

Where lie they whom I loved so dear;

I call—they answer not.

“O, bitter cup which God has given!

Where can relief be found?

Anon I lift my eyes to heaven.

Anon in tears they’re drowned.

“Yet He who conquered death and hell

Our Friend at last will stand;

307And all whom He befriends shall dwell

In Canaan’s happy land—

“Shall joyful meet, no more to part,

No more be forced to sigh.

That death will chill the warmest heart.

And rend the closest tie.

“Such promise throws a rainbow bright

Death’s darkest storm above,

And bids us catch the heaven-born light,

And praise the God of love.

“My dear Mother Hasseltine: I wrote the above lines some time ago, and intended to add a longer postscript; but find myself pressed for time at the present moment.

“It is a long time since I had a line from any of your family. I hope you will not quite forget me, but believe me ever,

Yours most affectionately,

“A. Judson.

“August 17, 1829.”

To the Bennetts in Rangoon.

“... I never had a tighter fit of low spirits than for about a week after you had gone. I sometimes went, after dinner, to take a solitary walk in the veranda, and sing, with my harmonious voice, ‘Heartless and hopeless, life and love all gone.’ However, I am rallying again, as the doctors say. But I have not yet got the steam up in the Old Testament machine. ‘Toil and trouble,’ etc. Heaven must be sweet after all these things. I have no more to say.... I hope you will pray for me, for you have not such inveterate habits to struggle with as I have contracted through a long course of religious sinning. O, my past years in Rangoon are spectres to haunt my soul; and they seem to laugh at me as they shake the chains they have riveted on me. I can now do little more than beg my younger brethren and sisters not to live as I have done, until the Ethiopian becomes so black that his skin can not be changed. And yet I have sometimes sweet peace in Jesus, which the world can neither give nor 308take away. O, the freeness, the richness of divine grace, through the blood of the cross!

“Your affectionate, unworthy brother,

“A. Judson.”

To the sisters of his wife he wrote as follows:

“Maulmain, October 24, 1828.

“My dear Sisters M. and A.: You see from the date that it is the second anniversary of the triumph of death over all my hopes of earthly bliss. I have this day moved into a small cottage, which I have built in the woods, away from the haunts of men. It proves a stormy evening, and the desolation around me accords with the desolate state of my own mind, where grief for the dear departed combines with sorrow for present sin, and my tears flow at the same time over the forsaken grave of my love and over the loathsome sepulchre of my own heart.”

“October 24, 1829.

“And now the third anniversary returns, and finds me in the same cottage, except it has been removed nearer the mission-house, to make way for a Government building. I live alone. When I wish to be quite so, Mrs. W. sends me my food; at other times I am within the sound of a bell that calls me to meals.

“‘Blest who, far from all mankind,

This world’s shadows left behind,

Hears from heaven a gentle strain,

Whispering love, and loves again.’

But O, that strain I have hitherto listened in vain to hear, or rather have not listened aright, and therefore can not hear.

“Have either of you learned the art of real communion with God, and can you teach me the first principles? God is to me the Great Unknown. I believe in Him, but I find Him not.”

And to his own mother and sister:

“I still live alone, and board with some one of the families that compose the mission. After the Wades left, I boarded 309with the Bennetts. After the Bennetts left for Rangoon, I boarded with the Cutters. After the Cutters left for Ava, I boarded with the Hancocks, where I now am. I have no family or living creature about me that I can call my own, except one dog, Fidelia, which belonged to little Maria, and which I value more on that account. Since the death of her little mistress, she has ever been with me; but she is now growing old, and will die before long; and I am sure I shall shed more than one tear when poor Fidee goes.”

The sadness of this period was also intensified by the slowness of American Christians in sending on reinforcements. He often felt that he had been left out on the skirmish line almost alone. He writes to the Corresponding Secretary:

“I am startled and terrified to find that, by several unexpected moves, I am left, as it were, alone; there being not another foreigner in all the country that can preach the Gospel to the perishing millions, north and south, or feed the infant churches, except, indeed, Mrs. Bennett, who has begun to take the management of the female meetings. My prayers to God and my entreaties to my brethren at home seem to have equal efficacy. Since the last missionaries left home, I perceive no further signs of life. All seem to have gone to slumbering and sleeping.”

In acknowledging a gift of fifty dollars from the Rev. Mr. Grow, of Thompson, Connecticut, he wrote:

“The fact is, that we are very weak, and have to complain that hitherto we have not been well supported from home. It is most distressing to find, when we are almost worn out, and are sinking, one after another, into the grave, that many of our brethren in Christ at home are just as hard and immovable as rocks; just as cold and repulsive as the mountains of ice in the polar seas. But whatever they do, we can not sit still and see the dear Burmans, flesh and blood like ourselves, and like ourselves possessed of immortal souls, that will shine forever in heaven, or burn forever in hell—we can not see them go down to perdition without doing our very 310utmost to save them. And thanks be to God, our labors are not in vain. We have three lovely churches, and about two hundred baptized converts, and some are in glory. A spirit of religious inquiry is extensively spreading throughout the country, and the signs of the times indicate that the great renovation of Burmah is drawing near. O, if we had about twenty more versed in the language, and means to spread schools, and tracts, and Bibles, to any extent, how happy I should be! But those rocks and those icy mountains have crushed us down for many years.”

And at the close of an imploring appeal for new men, he says:

“May God forgive all those who desert us in our extremity. May He save them all. But surely, if any sin will lie with crushing weight on the trembling, shrinking soul, when grim death draws near; if any sin will clothe the face of the final Judge with an angry frown, withering up the last hope of the condemned, in irremediable, everlasting despair, it is the sin of turning a deaf ear to the plaintive cry of ten millions of immortal beings, who, by their darkness and misery, cry, day and night, ‘Come to our rescue, ye bright sons and daughters of America, COME AND SAVE US, FOR WE ARE SINKING INTO HELL.’”

A letter written after his death, by his surviving widow, shows how intense was his longing for the sympathy and co-operation of his brethren at home. “I can not regret that Dr. Judson has gone. I believe it would have broken his heart to see Burmah open, and such a lack of missionary spirit. God spared him the trial, and though it has left me so very desolate, I feel a sort of gladness too, when I think of it. I suppose he sees it there, but he can understand it better.”

After all, it was his intense piety that carried him into these extremes of self-denial. His was a great religious nature, wrestling for Christ-likeness. A small and weak nature always keeps within limit. Soil that is too thin for grain, never produces weeds. From the time that Mr. Judson 311gave his heart to God at Andover, he was possessed with a consuming zeal to be made holy. On this point, Mrs. E. C. Judson says: “I was first attracted by the freshness, the originality, if I may so call it, of his goodness.”... “His religion mingled in his letters generally, and in his conversation—a little silver thread that it is impossible to disentangle.”

He was a man of prayer. His habit was to walk while engaged in private prayer. One who knew him most intimately says that “His best and freest time for meditation and prayer was while walking rapidly in the open air. He, however, attended to the duty in his room, and so well was this peculiarity understood that when the children heard a somewhat heavy, quick, but well-measured tread, up and down the room, they would say, ‘Papa is praying.’”

“His was the life,” one writes, “of what the English would call ‘a good fellow,’ elevated and purified and beautified by religion.” Though he was a most brilliant and genial companion, yet, in his mind, every social relation was a tie by which men might be drawn heavenward. When Sir Archibald Campbell, the hero of the first Burman war, was on the eve of setting sail for his native land, crowned with the laurels of victory, he received from the lips of the humble and faithful ambassador of the cross, whom he had befriended, the following tender and solemn words of Christian admonition:

“Maulmain, January 8, 1829.

“My dear Sir: A few days ago I heard of your intention to leave this place on your return home.

“When I reflect on your many kindnesses to me and my beloved wife, now, I trust, in heaven, from the time I first saw you at Yebbay to the present moment, and on the many pleasant interviews with which I have been honored, it is natural that I should feel a desire to express my gratitude for your goodness, and my regret at your departure. But, besides that desire, I have, for a few days, had an impression on my mind which I can not avoid, and dare not counteract. 312I would fain say a few words to you on a subject which you have probably never had a friend faithful enough to present plainly to your mind. I feel that I write under the influence of a higher power; and I beg that if my words offend you, you will still have the charity to believe that I am influenced by none other than the most disinterested, affectionate, and respectful sentiments. And though you should at first be displeased, I can not but hope that you will sometimes suffer the question to intrude on your most retired moments, whether the words I speak are not the words of eternal truth.

“But why should I proceed with hesitation and fear? Why give way to an unbelieving heart? He who inclines me to write will incline your heart to receive my words. If even a heathen monarch appointed one of his courtiers to accost him every morning with the warning salutation, ‘Philip, thou must die,’ surely Sir Archibald Campbell, of a Christian country and Christian habits, will be willing, for a moment, to turn away his ear from the voice of flattery, and listen to the monitory voice of sober truth.

“And yet true religion is a very different thing from all that you have probably been acquainted with. True religion is seldom to be found among mitred prelates and high dignitaries. It consists not in attachment to any particular church, nor in the observance of any particular forms of worship. Nor does it consist in a mere abstinence from flagrant crimes, a mere conformity to the rules of honesty and honor. True religion consists in a reunion of the soul to that great, omnipresent, infinite Being, from whom we have all become alienated in consequence of the fall. In our natural state, we spend our days in seeking the wealth and honors of this life, which we yet know to be but short and transitory, and we become too forgetful of that awful eternity to which we are rapidly hastening. So great is the blinding influence of sin, so successful are the fatal machinations of the god of this world, that when we can not stay the near approach of death and eternity, we still endeavor to quiet our conscience and pacify our fears by vague and indefinite ideas of the 313mercy of God, and by the hope that it will be well with us hereafter, though the still voice within whispers that all is wrong; and thus we are apt to suffer year after year to pass away, while we drink the intoxicating draught of pleasure, or climb the height of human ambition. O, Sir Archibald, the glittering colors of this world will soon fade away; the bubbles of life will soon burst and disappear; the cold grave will soon close upon our, worldly enjoyments, and honors, and aspirings; and where then will our souls be?

“God’s own eternal Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, came down from heaven to rescue us from the delusion of this world, the power of sin, and the doom of the impenitent. But ‘unless we have the spirit of Christ, we are none of His.’ His own divine lips have declared, ‘Except a man be born again, he can not see the kingdom of God.’ And the ambassador of Christianity must not hesitate to declare this solemn truth, plainly and fearlessly, to the king and the beggar, the rich and the poor, if he would clear his own conscience, and manifest true love to their souls.

“Allow me, then, to say to thee, Sir Archibald: Turn away thine eye from the fleeting shadows, and thine ear from the empty sounds of earth. Open the eye of thy mind to the uncreated beauties of that divine Being who is ever with thee, and ever waiting to be gracious. Listen to the call of His Holy Spirit. Give thine heart to the Friend and Lover of man, who hung and died on the cross to redeem us from eternal woe, and thou shalt find such peace and sweetness as thou hast never yet conceived of. Thou wilt be astonished that thou couldst have lived so many years ignorant of such transcendent beauty, insensible to those excellences which fill heaven with rapture, and in some instances make a heaven of earth. But if thou wilt not give thy heart to God, thou wilt never find true happiness here, thou wilt never see His face in peace.

“I do not suppose that, amid your present hurry, you will find leisure to pay any attention to the topic I now present. But perhaps when oceans have intervened between us, when resting in the bosom of your own native land, the truths of 314this letter may, through the divine blessing, find their way to your heart.

“Farewell, Sir Archibald, and while all around you flatter and praise, while the plaudits of your king and country sound in your ears, believe that there is one person, humble and unknown, who prays in his retirement for your immortal soul; whose chief desire is to see you on the great day invested, not with the insignia of earthly monarchs, but with the glorious crown of eternal life, and who desires ever to subscribe himself,

“With heartfelt affection and respect,

“Your sincere friend and faithful servant,

“A. Judson.”

In the “Threefold Cord,”Cord,”^[34]—a letter written by Mr. Judson to a young convert,—and in the following “Pencilled Fragments” and “Rules of Life,” it may be seen with what strong and eager wing-beats of aspiration his soul struggled to mount into the serene atmosphere of a pure and holy life.

Pencilled Fragments, without date.

Topics to Encourage Prayer.

“Wrestling Jacob.

“Friend at midnight.

“The unjust judge.

“Satan fights neither with small nor great, save only with the spirit of prayer.

“An effort made in aridity, in wandering of thought, under a strong tendency to some other occupation, is more pleasing to God, and helps the soul forward in grace more than a long prayer without temptation.

“Whatever others do, let my life be a life of prayer.

“Get the King’s daughter, and you get all; the grace of devotion is the daughter of God.”

Points of Self-denial.

“1. The passion for neatness, uniformity, and order in arrangement of things—in dress, in writing, in grounds.

“2. A disposition to suffer annoyance from little improprieties in the behavior and conversation of others.

“3. A desire to appear to advantage, to get honor and avoid shame. ‘Come shame, come sorrow,’ etc.

“4. A desire for personal ease and comfort, and a reluctance to suffer inconvenience.

“5. Unwillingness to bear contradiction.”

Rules of Life.

“Rules adopted on Sunday, April 4, 1819, the era of commencing public ministrations among the Burmans; revised and re-adopted on Saturday, December 9, 1820, and on Wednesday, April 25, 1821:

“1. Be diligent in secret prayer, every morning and evening.

“2. Never spend a moment in mere idleness.

“3. Restrain natural appetites within the bounds of temperance and purity. ‘Keep thyself pure.’

“4. Suppress every emotion of anger and ill will.

“5. Undertake nothing from motives of ambition or love of fame.

“6. Never do that which, at the moment, appears to be displeasing to God.

“7. Seek opportunities of making some sacrifice for the good of others, especially of believers, provided the sacrifice is not inconsistent with some duty.

“8. Endeavor to rejoice in every loss and suffering incurred for Christ’s sake and the Gospel’s, remembering that though, like death, they are not to be wilfully incurred, yet, like death, they are great gain.

“Re-adopted the above rules, particularly the 4th, on Sunday, August 31, 1823.

“Re-adopted the above rules, particularly the 1st, on Sunday, October 29, 1826, and adopted the following minor rules:

“1. Rise with the sun.

316“2. Read a certain portion of Burman every day, Sundays excepted.

“3. Have the Scriptures and some devotional book in constant reading.

“4. Read no book in English that has not a devotional tendency.

“5. Suppress every unclean thought and look.

“Revised and re-adopted all the above rules, particularly the second of the first class, on Sunday, March 11, 1827.

“God grant me grace to keep the above rules, and ever live to His glory, for Jesus Christ’s sake.

A. Judson.”

“August 9, 1842.

“1. Be more careful to observe the seasons of secret prayer.

“2. Never indulge resentful feelings toward any person.

“3. Embrace every opportunity of exercising kind feelings, and doing good to others, especially to the household of faith.

“4. Sweet in temper, face, and word, To please an ever-present Lord.

“Renewed December 31, 1842.

“December 31, 1842. Resolved to make the desire to please Christ the grand motive of all my actions.”

It may be well to glance at some of the forms of excessive self-mortification which this great religious nature assumed under the stress of sickness, sorrow, and solitude. He was reared in the sound common-sense views of New England. He knew the value of money and the necessity of providing for the future by thrifty habits and close economy. Now all this he felt it his duty to give up. His advice to young men who were coming out as missionaries was, “Never lay up money for yourselves or your families. Trust in God from day to day, and verily you shall be fed.” He was allowed by the Governor-General of India five thousand two hundred rupees,^[35] in consideration 317of his services at the treaty of Yandabo and as a member of the embassy to Ava. Besides this, the presents he received while at Ava amounted to two thousand rupees.^[36] All this money he paid into the treasury of the mission. Nor did he regard this as a donation. His view was that whatever a missionary might earn by such necessary and incidental outside work belonged, in the nature of the case, to the Board by which he was employed. But not only did he cheerfully give up these perquisites, but at a single stroke he transferred to the mission all of his private property, the slow accumulation of many years of thrift. He thus wrote to the Corresponding Secretary:

“Maulmain, May 31, 1828.

“Rev. and dear Sir: When I left America, I brought with me a considerable sum of money, the avails of my own earnings and the gifts of my relatives and personal friends. This money has been accumulating at interest for many years under the management of a kind friend to the mission, and occasionally receiving accessions from other quarters, particularly at the close of the late war, until it amounts to twelve thousand rupees. I now beg leave to present it to the Board, or rather to Him ‘who loved us and washed us from our sins in His own blood.’ I am taking measures to have the money paid to the agent of the Board, and the payment will, I trust, be effected by the end of this year.

“I would suggest, lest a temporary suspension of the necessity of remitting money should occasion some relaxation of the usual efforts made to meet the current expenses of the mission, whether it may not be advisable to invest a sum equivalent to that which I now pay the agent, viz., six thousand dollars, as part of a permanent fund. But this I leave entirely to the discretion of the Board.

“Yours, faithfully,

“A Missionary.

“P. S.—It is not from an affected desire of concealment 318that the writer has subscribed himself ‘A Missionary.’ He is sensible that the tenor of the letter will, to those who are acquainted with the state of the mission, sufficiently betray him. But this is not the case with the public in general; and so far as it may be thought desirable not to throw away the influence of example, it is quite sufficient to tell the public that the money is given by a missionary, without specifying the individual.”

And not only so, but he and Mr. Wade proposed to relinquish a twentieth, and conditionally, even a tenth of their respective salaries, and afterward he desired to have his own salary lessened by one-quarter.

Letters to the Corresponding Secretary.

“Maulmain, September 1, 1828.

“Rev. and dear Sir: Since it is to be ascribed to the want of money, rather than to that of men, that the Baptists in the United States of America make such feeble efforts to send the Gospel through the world, inasmuch as the want of money prevents the managers of missions from presenting those invitations and encouragements which would be gladly embraced by many young men who are waiting the call of Providence, we feel the importance of recurring practically to the golden rule, that every individual do his duty in furnishing those means which are absolutely necessary to carry on the great war with the prince of darkness and his legions in this fallen world. Feeling, also, that missionaries and ministers are under peculiar obligations, beyond any other classes of Christians, to take the lead in contributing of their substance, and encouraged by our Saviour’s commendation of the poor widow in the Gospel, we have entered on a course of living which will, we hope, enable us to offer our two mites; and we propose, therefore, to relinquish annually one-twentieth of the allowance which we receive from the Board of Missions.

“We respectfully suggest that a similar proposal be made to the Baptist ministers in the United States; and we engage that, as soon as it shall appear that one hundred ministers, 319including ourselves, have resolved to transmit annually to the treasurer of the American Baptist Board of Foreign Missions one-twentieth of all their regular income, whether derived from their salaries or estates, we will relinquish a second twentieth of our allowance, that is, one-tenth of the whole.

“And lest it be said that we now receive high allowances, and can, therefore, afford to make some retrenchment, we state, not by way of ostentation, but merely to meet the remark, that, considering our allowances cover all our personal expenses except building or house rent, conveyance on mission business, and charges for medical attendance, we receive less than any English missionaries of any denomination, in any part of the East, and as little as any American missionaries in those parts, notwithstanding the expense of living on this coast is probably greater than at a majority of other stations.

We remain, yours faithfully,

“A. Judson,

“J. Wade.”

“Maulmain, June 19, 1829.

“My dear Sir: I propose, from this date, to lessen my usual allowance by one-quarter, finding, from experience, that my present mode of living will admit the retrenchment; this arrangement not to interfere with the proposals made under date of September last, concerning the one-twentieth and one-tenth.

Yours faithfully,

“A. Judson.”

But love of money was not the only worldly appetite which he nailed to the cross. He cut to the quick that passion for fame which was an inborn trait, and which had been inordinately stimulated by his parents during his earliest childhood. His overweening ambition received its first mortal wound, as he often remarked, when he became a Baptist. He declined the honorary degree of Doctor of Divinity conferred upon him by the corporation of Brown University in 1823, and in May, 1828, wrote as follows to the editor of the Missionary Magazine:

320

“Dear Sir: I beg to be allowed the privilege of requesting my correspondents and friends, through the medium of your magazine, no longer to apply to my name the title which was conferred on me in the year 1823 by the corporation of Brown University, and which, with all deference and respect for that honorable body, I hereby resign.

“Nearly three years elapsed before I was informed of the honor done me, and two years more have been suffered to pass, partly from the groundless idea that it was too late to decline the honor, and partly through fear of doing what might seem to reflect on those who have taken a different course, or be liable to the charge of affected singularity, or superstitious preciseness. But I am now convinced that the commands of Christ and the general spirit of the Gospel are paramount to all prudential considerations, and I only regret that I have so long delayed to make this communication.

“Yours, etc., A. Judson.”

The difficulty of writing his biography is enhanced by the fact that he destroyed, as far as possible, all his correspondence, including a letter of thanks for his services from the Governor-General of India, and other papers of a similar kind. He seemed determined that his friends should have no material with which to construct eulogiums. He wanted to do his work and then forget all about it, and have every one else also forget it. He was like a bee that flies into the hive with her load of pollen, and depositing it there, flies away again, without looking behind, leaving it for the other bees to pack it away in the cell. How little to the taste of his sister must it have been to receive from her brother, of whom she was so justly proud, such a commission as this:

“Maulmain, May 28, 1829.

“My dear Sister: Yours of October 16th last arrived yesterday. In regard to the quitclaim, it is impossible for me to ascertain, at this distance, what particular forms are required by the laws of the United States. But if you, or brother, or any person will send me such an instrument as 321the case requires, I will complete and return it. I am rather glad, however, that the first did not answer, because I have now a request to make which I doubt whether you would comply with, if I did not make your compliance a condition of my returning you the said instrument. My request is, that you will entirely destroy all my old letters which are in your and mother’s hands, unless it be three or four of the later ones, which you may wish to keep as mementoes. There are several reasons for this measure, which it would take too much time to detail. Suffice it to say, that I am so very desirous of effecting a complete destruction of all my old writings, that you must allow me to say positively (as the only means of bringing you to terms) that I can not send you the instrument you desire until I have an assurance, under your hand, that there is nothing remaining, except as mentioned above.”

Again, Mr. Judson had a very strong relish for literature and linguistic research. One can not fail to observe the poetic gems, original and quoted, scattered through his correspondence. The Burman literature, with its Buddhistic books and its fascinating poetry, was a vast mine unexplored. He was tempted to trace the winding paths which were ever opening before his scholarly mind, and to search this great and ancient treasure-vault. Might he not translate into English some beautiful fragments of this literature, and so enkindle in some of the highly-organized minds of the Western world a greater interest in foreign missions? But no. He turned resolutely away from the alluring prospect. He was determined not to know anything among the Burmans save Jesus Christ and Him crucified. As a missionary he was unwilling to disperse his mental forces over the wide surface of literary and philosophical pursuit, but insisted on moving along the narrow and divinely-appointed groove of unfolding the word of God and meting it out to suit the wants of perishing man.

But perhaps the severest sacrifice of all was the denial of 322his social instincts. It was not because he was unendowed with social sensibility that he so cut himself off from the State or conventional dinner and from a fashionable intercourse with Sir Archibald Campbell, and other cultivated Englishmen, as to incur the stigma of being called “odd.” He did not withdraw to his hermitage in the jungle because he was a fierce and sullen fanatic. On the contrary, one who knew him most intimately says that “Perhaps his most remarkable characteristic to a superficial observer was the extent and thoroughly genial nature of his sociableness.” Indeed, there was a spice of truth in the remark sneeringly made by a fashionable woman that “Judson abstained from society not from principle, but from cowardice—he was like the drunkard who was afraid to taste lest he should not know when to stop.” “His ready humor,” Mrs. Judson writes, “his aptness at illustration, his free flow of generous, gentlemanly feeling made his conversation peculiarly brilliant and attractive, and such interchanges of thought and feeling were his delight.” “He was not,” she adds, “a born angel, shut without the pale of humanity by his religion.” His was not the stern, unæsthetic nature of the great reformer and theologian who, though he lived his life on the Lake of Geneva, nowhere betrays, in his voluminous writings, that he was at all conscious of the beautiful panorama spread out before him. He was, as has been said of another, “a creature who entered into every one’s feelings, and could take the pressure of their thought instead of urging his own with iron resistance.” He was, in truth,

“... Not too bright or good

For human nature’s daily food;

For transient sorrows, simple wiles,

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.”

The author, among his own scanty childhood recollections of his father, well remembers the tenderness with which he nursed his sick boy; and a missionary associate says, “He 323had a peculiarly fascinating way of endearing himself to everybody whose hearts were open to his kindness.” Mrs. E. C. Judson writes:

“He was always planning pleasant little surprises for his family and neighbors, and kept up through his married life those little lover-like attentions which I believe husbands are apt to forget. There was, and always must have been, a kind of romance about him (you will understand that I use the word italicized for want of a better) which prevented every-day life with him from ever being commonplace. If he went out before I was awake in the morning, very likely some pretty message would be pinned to my mosquito-curtain. If he was obliged to stay at a business-meeting, or any such place, longer than he thought I expected (and often when he did not stay over the time), some little pencilled line that he could trace without attracting attention, would be dispatched to me. And often when he sat at his study-table, something droll or tender or encouraging or suggestive of thought, pencilled on a broken scrap of paper, sometimes the margin of a newspaper, was every little while finding its way to my room.... He was always earnest, enthusiastic, sympathizing, even in the smallest trifles, tender, delicate, and considerate—never moody, as he has sometimes been described, but equally communicative, whether sad or cheerful.... He was always, even in his playfulness, intellectual; and the more familiar, the more elevated.”

The little thoughtful attentions which he was continually paying to his fellow-missionaries, betrayed with what heartiness he entered into all their joys and sorrows. His friends, the Bennetts, had sent their children to America. One day Mr. Judson surprised them with a present of the portraits of their absent little ones, for which he had himself sent to this country. His genial appreciation of the kindness of others beams from this little card that found its way into the missionary magazine:

“A. Judson desires to present, through the American Baptist 324Magazine, his thanks to the many kind friends of himself and the mission, who have sent him, by the hands of brother and sister Wade, and their associates, various donations of wearing apparel, books, stationery, etc. Some of the articles are of great value, and all of them are very acceptable, being such as he requires for daily use. The faces of the donors he knows not; but many of their names he has marked, and the notes and letters accompanying the presents have repeatedly called forth the tear of gratitude and love. The acquaintance thus commenced, though not personal, he expects will be perfected in that world where there is no sea to separate friends, no barrier to impede the interchange of mutual love. And he rejoices in the belief that every distant expression and recognition of fraternal affection here below will form an additional tie, binding heart to heart, in the world above; that every cup of cold water given to a disciple will become a perennial stream, flowing on from age to age, and swelling the heavenly tide of life and gladness.”

He had a remarkable gift for comforting people, and was indeed a son of consolation. A lady to whom he paid a visit of condolence upon the death of her mother wrote to her friend, “He must have been peculiarly sympathetic himself, or he could not have entered into every one’s sorrows so easily.” To this trait in his character the wife who survived him bears eloquent testimony:

“Before Sir Archibald Campbell left the provinces, he took his stand and never attended a fashionable dinner afterward. He gradually, too, broke off from intimate association with the missionaries, partly, perhaps, from a lack of congeniality of thought, partly from his sense of the worth of time. If any one was in trouble, however, he was sure to be there, and his power to soothe I have never seen equalled. Every tone of his voice seemed calculated to touch the innermost chord of a troubled heart.”

How exquisitely soothing are the words with which he strivesstrives to comfort a heart-broken mother, weeping in her 325room after her husband has gone on board ship with her little girls, about to sail for America.

“Sovereign love appoints the measure

And the number of our pains,

And is pleased when we take pleasure

In the trials He ordains.”

“Infinite love, my dear sister, in the person of the Lord Jesus, is even now looking down upon you, and will smile if you offer Him your bleeding, breaking heart. All created excellence and all ardor of affection proceed from Him. He loves you far more than you love your children; and He loves them also, when presented in the arms of faith, far more than you can conceive. Give them up, therefore, to His tender care. He will, I trust, restore them to you under greater advantages, and united to Himself; and you, who now sow in tears, shall reap in joy. And on the bright plains of heaven they shall dwell in your arms forever, and you shall hear their celestial songs, sweetened and heightened by your present sacrifices and tears.

“Yours, A. Judson.”

Again he writes to the same bereaved lady:

“What a miserable world is this! No sooner does the heart’s pulse begin to take a little hold, than snap it goes. How many times more shall I have to sing that melancholy ditty—

“‘Had we never loved so kindly,

Had we never loved so blindly,

Never met, or never parted,

We had ne’er been broken-hearted!’

Even those poor culprits, Elsina and Mary, do so frequently squeeze out the tear, that it is painful to think of them. I don’t wonder that you say your heart is ready to break. I almost wonder how you can breathe. And I don’t think that Mrs. Wade’s sweet, but cruel letters have helped the matter at all. But be patient, poor soul! Heaven will be sweeter for all this, though you may be unwilling to believe it. And we 326have every reason to pray and to hope that the dear absent ones will be with you to all eternity.”

From what has been written on the subject of Guyonism, it can easily be seen how near at one period of his life, under the stress of grief and physical enfeeblement, Mr. Judson approached the perilous verge of fanaticism. He, however, soon recovered his mental and spiritual equilibrium, and in the busy whirl of missionary activity, and later in the formation of new social and domestic relations, threw off whatever excesses may temporarily have characterized his views and practices of self-denial. We subjoin a fragment, probably a scrap torn from the close of a letter:

“Leaving one party to prove that the standard of Christian morality is lowered since the days of the apostles, and another party to assert and expect the restoration of miraculous powers, let us adopt a middle course, the golden medium—Holy as the apostles, without their power—and then ‘the glory of this latter house shall be greater than that of the former.’”

Having thus turned aside to study the peculiar phase of spiritual experience through which Mr. Judson passed, that we might catch as through a window a glimpse of the very interior of his character, we now resume the narrative of his incessant toils. We left him by the freshly-made graves of his wife and child at Amherst. Amherst and Maulmain, situated about twenty-five miles apart upon the coast of a newly-settled province, were competing for the honor of being the metropolis of British Burmah.^[37] They were both planted in the jungle, dependent for their growth upon the tide of population which kept streaming away from the oppressions of Burman despotism toward the enlightened and liberal English rule that prevailed throughout the Tenasserim provinces. The scale, as has already been stated, was turned in favor of Maulmain, by the fact that Sir Archibald 327Campbell had chosen it as the headquarters of his army. It consequently grew into a large city with marvellous rapidity, while Amherst dwindled into insignificance.

The missionaries at first thought it best to have two stations, one at Amherst and the other at Maulmain—the Wades to hold the ground in the former place, and the Boardmans in the latter, while Mr. Judson should move backward and forward between the two points. But they soon decided not to attempt to keep their hold on Amherst, but to concentrate all their forces in Maulmain. This town was situated at the mouth of the Salwen, on its western bank. It consisted principally of one street which extended along the river-front about two miles. Behind the city was a long range of hills, dotted here and there with the graceful pagoda. In front swept the broad swift Salwen, “in which an English sloop-of-war was lying at anchor, and curiously-shaped Indian boats were passing to and fro with each changing tide.” Directly across the river lay the province of Martaban, still under Burman rule, the secure haunt of robbers and pirates; while far off to the seaward one could catch a glimpse of the high hills of Ballou Island.

The Boardmans were the first to remove to Maulmain, and were soon followed by the Wades, while Mr. Judson came last. We find in Mr. Boardman’s journal, under date of August 12, 1827, the following minute:

“The Burman merchant to whom I gave the books called on me yesterday, for further information on some point which he did not fully understand. While he was here, the head man of the village also came; and these two together, with our Burman teacher, who seems to be inquiring, entered into some particular discussion of the Christian history and doctrine. In the midst of this discussion, how great was my joy on beholding Mr. Judson approaching the house. It is now probable that we shall all be settled together at this place.”

The mission-house had been erected by the Boardmans at the expense of the mission, upon ground given by Sir Archibald Campbell. It was situated about a mile south of 328the English barracks, on a gentle westerly and southerly declivity, so that it commanded a view of the river and the sea. It contained three rooms fifteen feet square, and a veranda on all sides, but enclosed on three sides for a study, store-room, dressing-room, etc. The General had offered the missionaries a site within the cantonments, but they chose rather to be where they could come into closer and more direct contact with the natives. This, however, exposed them landward to tigers, and riverward to robbers from Martaban. Their perilous situation is thus described in a letter from Mrs. Boardman to an intimate friend in Salem:

“My very dear Friend: I have hitherto refrained from letting you know the extreme loneliness of our condition, and the constant danger to which we have been exposed.... Maulmain, the place of our residence, is separated from the Burman province of Martaban only by the river. The opposite side is the refuge of robbers, who come over in parties twenty or thirty in number, armed with muskets, spears, knives, etc.etc. Thus equipped, they break into houses in the most daring manner, seize everything valuable, and retreat immediately with their booty to the other side of the river, where they are entirely beyond the reach of British authority. They have in one or two instances surprised and destroyed whole villages that were left unguarded; and in one place they even attacked a guard of Sepoys.... Thus surrounded by dangers, we live alone, in a house of such frail materials that it could be cut open in any part with a pair of scissors, in the midst of a desolate wood, and at some little distance from even a Burman neighbor.... The military cantonments are about a mile distant, and we are the only Europeans living outside.... We came to this place, wishing, I trust, to spend and be spent among this people, and trusting in an Almighty arm for protection. Be assured, my dear friend, we felt happy in our decision. We saw this wretched, deluded people perishing in their ignorance of the Gospel; we thought of the love of the Saviour to precious souls; we cast a glance toward Gethsemane and Calvary, and that was sufficient. Shall we consult our own ease and comfort, we said, or shall we be willing to take joyfully the spoiling of our goods? This was the question, and, I trust, the grace of God enabled us to choose the latter.”

And they were soon called upon to endure the spoiling of 329their goods. The description is given in the words of Mrs. E. C. Judson:

“On the evening of the fourth day, as it deepened into night, the books of study were thrown aside, and the book of God taken in their stead; then the prayer was raised to heaven, and the little family went to rest. Feeble were the rays of the one pale lamp, close by the pillow of the young mother, scarce throwing its light upon the infant resting in her bosom, and penetrating into the remote darkness, but by feeble flickerings. So sleep soon brooded over the shut eyelids, and silence folded its solemn wings about the little habitation.

“The infant stirred, and the mother opened her eyes. Why was she in darkness? and what objects were those scattered so strangely about her apartment, just distinguishable from the gray shadows? The lamp was soon relighted, and startling was the scene which it revealed. There lay, in odd confusion, trunks, boxes, and chests of drawers, all rifled of their contents; and strewed carelessly about the floor, were such articles as the marauders had not considered worth their taking. While regarding in consternation, not appreciable by those who have access to the shops of an American city, this spoiling of their goods, Mrs. Boardman chanced to raise her eye to the curtain, beneath which her husband had slept, and she thought of the lost goods no more. Two long gashes, one at the head and the other at the foot, had been cut in the muslin; and there had the desperate villains stood, glaring on the unconscious sleeper with their fierce, murderous eyes, while the booty was secured by their companions. The bared, swarthy arm was ready for the blow, and the sharp knife or pointed spear glittered in their hands. Had the sleeper opened his eyes, had he only stirred, had but a heavy, long-drawn breath startled the cowardice of guilt—ah, had it! But it did not. The rounded limbs of the little infant lay motionless as their marble counterfeit; for if the rosy lips had moved but to the slightest murmur, or the tiny hand crept closer to the loved bosom in her baby dreams, the chord in the mother’s breast must have answered, and the 330death-stroke followed. But the mother held her treasure to her heart and slept on. Murderers stood by the bedside, regarding with callous hearts the beautiful tableau; and the husband and father slept. But there was one Eye open—the Eye that never slumbers; a protecting wing was over them, and a soft, invisible hand pressed down their sleeping lids.

“Nearly every article of value that could be taken away had disappeared from the house; and though strict search was made throughout the neighborhood, no trace of them was ever discovered. After this incident, Sir Archibald Campbell furnished the house with a guard of Sepoys during the night; and as the rapid increase of the population soon gave it a central position in the town, the danger of such attacks was very much lessened.”

It was at this exposed spot that the Judsons, the Boardmans, and the Wades mustered their forces, and stood prepared to take advantage of the inflowing tide of Burmese population. They took with them from Amherst their whole little flock of native converts and inquirers, namely, Moung Shwa-ba, Moung Ing, Moung Myat-poo, Mah Doke, with her husband, Moung Dwah, and Moung Thah-byoo, who afterward became the apostle to the Karens. Seventeen of the female scholars also accompanied them, besides the two little boys left motherless by the lamented Mah Men-la.

The missionaries and their converts at once began zayat work. There were soon in Maulmain four widely-separated centres of Gospel influence, namely: the mission-house where Mr. Boardman labored; Mr. Judson’s zayat, about two miles and a half north of the mission premises, in a very populous part of the town (“a little shed projecting into one of the dirtiest, noisiest streets of the place”); Mr. Wade’s zayat, out in the country, about half a mile south of the mission-house; and, besides, a reading zayat, where Moung Shwa-ba and Moung Ing alternately read the Scriptures to all the passers-by. At each of these stations public worship was held, followed by close personal conversation 331with any who desired to become acquainted with the new religion. Nor did the word thus preached return void. They soon had the happiness of baptizing Moung Dwah, one of the inquirers who had accompanied them from Amherst, and others speedily followed his example.

Some of the most stubborn cases yielded, little by little, to Mr. Judson’s solemn and gentle persuasion. He describes a certain Moung Bo as follows:

“I noticed once in the annals of the Rangoon mission a man of the first distinction in point of talents, erudition, general information, and extensive influence. His progress has been so slow that I have not mentioned him before; but he has attended me ever since the zayat was opened, his house being on the opposite side of the street. He was an intimate friend of Moung Shwa-gnong, and has apparently been going through a process similar to what my dear brother, now, I trust, in heaven, experienced. He has relinquished Buddhism, and got through with Deism and Unitarianism, and now appears to be near the truth. Many a time, when contemplating his hard, unbending features, and listening to his tones of dogmatism and pride, I have said in my heart, ‘Canst thou ever kneel, a humble suppliant, at the foot of the cross?’ But he has lately manifested some disposition to yield, and assures me that he does pray in secret.”

Although the English rule prevented the application of the Burman iron mall, yet the young converts did not escape persecution.

“Ko Myat-kyau is,” Mr. Judson writes, “a brother of the first native chief in the place, nearly fifty years of age, of most respectable rank in society, more so than any other that has been baptized, possessed of a clear mind, considerable native eloquence, and an uncommon degree of mental and bodily activity. His literary attainments are scanty; but he has command of handsome language, particularly that which is current in the higher classes of society. He has been an inquirer after truth many years, and has diligently 332investigated the systems of Buddh, of Brahma, and of Mahomet. At length he embraced the religion of Jesus Christ with all his heart and soul, manifesting more zeal and ardor than commonly characterize his cool, considerate countrymen. He has suffered as much persecution as can be openly inflicted under British government. All his relations and friends joined in a most appalling cry against him; his wife commenced a suit for divorce; and his brother publicly declared that, if he had the power of life and death, he would instantly wipe out with his blood the disgrace brought upon the family. Our friend bore it all with the meekness of a lamb, and conducted himself with such forbearance and Christian love that the tide has begun to turn in his favor. His wife has relinquished her suit, and begins to listen to the word; his brother has become silent; and some few of the relatives begin to speak in our favor.”

Women, too, did not shrink from suffering persecution on behalf of their newly-found Lord. Describing a baptism, Mr. Judson says:

“We made up a small female party, consisting of Mah See, Mah Gatee, and Mah Kyan, all decided and hearty in the cause, amid a torrent of threatening and abuse. The first is the wife of Moung San-lone, second; but her elder brother, and her priest, and other acquaintance are all alive on the occasion. The husbands of the other two are both opposers, and have threatened their wives with everything bad if they enter the new religion. They expect to suffer as soon as their husbands hear of the deeds of this day. We feel most for Mah Kyan, who has a child at her breast, an only child; and her husband has declared that he will not only turn her off, but take the child away from her, and provide it another nurse. After they were baptized, they said that their minds were very happy; come life, come death; they were disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ for life and forever.”

Again, he tells the story of a lady eighty years of age, mother-in-law of a petty chief who was one of the bitterest opposers:

333

“She commenced her inquiries,” he writes, “several months ago with a great deal of timidity. And though she has acquired a little courage, and is a person of considerable presence, she almost trembles under a sense of the great responsibility of changing her religion. Such being her character, the promptness with which she answered our questions, before the church, affected us even to tears. ‘How old are you, mother?’ ‘Eighty years.’ ‘Can you, at such an age, renounce the religion that you have followed all your life long?’ ‘I see that it is false, and I renounce it all.’ ‘Why do you wish to be baptized into the religion of Jesus Christ?’ ‘I have very, very many sins; and I love the Lord, who saves from sin.’ ‘Perhaps your son-in-law, on hearing that you have been baptized, will abuse you, and turn you out of doors.’ ‘I have another son-in-law, to whom I will flee.’ ‘But he also is an opposer; suppose that you should meet with the same treatment there?’ ‘You will, I think, let me come and live near you.’ We made no reply, willing that she should prove her sincerity by bearing the brunt alone. Her name is Mai Hlah. Behold this venerable woman, severing, at her time of life, all the ties which bind her to a large circle of connections and friends, hazarding the loss of a comfortable, respectable situation, the loss of character, the loss of a shelter for her gray head, throwing herself on the charity of certain foreigners, and all for the sake of ‘the Lord who saves from sin.’ O, blessed efficacy of the love of Christ!”

But not only was the zayat work crowned with success; the school work was not less effective. The school of girls which had been transplanted from Amherst increased in size and efficiency under the superintendence of Mrs. Wade and Mrs. Boardman, who not only taught the children, but imparted religious instruction to the Burman women. The tireless Boardman also opened a school for boys. Mr. Judson speaks joyously of an incipient revival in the girls’ school, “similar to those glorious revivals which distinguish our own beloved land.” He baptized Mah-ree (Hasseltine) 334about twelve years ago, one of the two Burman girls^[38] whom his departed Ann had watched over during his own long imprisonment at Ava.

“Two other girls, younger than those that have been baptized, appear to have obtained light and hope in Christ. ‘Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings Thou hast perfected praise.’ One of them, Mee Youk, about eight years old, gives as clear, satisfactory evidence of real conversion as any of the older girls. The other, Mee Kway, like our departed Mee Shway-ee, was rescued at Amherst from miserable slavery. She has hitherto given us very little pleasure, but is now led to see that she has been an uncommonly wicked child, and to feel a humble, penitent disposition.”

But even these babes in Christ were not exempt from suffering persecution. Mee Tan-goung had just been baptized. Her eldest sister, after having experienced real and pungent convictions of divine truth, had at length been induced by her mother’s alternate promises and threatenings deliberately to reject the Saviour.

“Mee Tan-goung’s mother came early,” writes Mr. Judson, “before any of us were up, and having made her elder daughter, Mee Lau, open the door of the school zayat, she fell upon her younger daughter, abusing and beating her, until, fearing that she should alarm the house, she went off. Soon after, however, she came again, and finding her daughter outside, she beat her on the head with an umbrella, and threatened to sell her for a slave. She then went into town, and after raising a tumult in the market-place, and declaring that her daughter had entered into a religion which prevented her lying and cheating, so that she was quite lost to all purposes of trade, she carried the alarming tale to the mothers of the other two girls who were baptized yesterday. One of them, the mother of Mee Nen-mah, who has been most violent heretofore, came in a rage to Mrs. Wade (brother 335Wade and myself being absent at our zayats), and after using as bad language as she dared, she ran down to the schoolroom, seized her daughter by the hair, and dragged her outdoors toward a pile of wood, where she would soon have armed herself with a weapon, had not Mrs. Wade interfered, and rescued the victim; upon which the mother went off, muttering vengeance. The girls bore all this abuse in silent submission, and really manifested something of the spirit of martyrs. All three are taken into the house for the present, lest their infuriated relatives should make an assault upon them by night.”

Poor little Mee Aa, who had been baptized, was living in great fear. She daily expected her mother from Amherst, and knew that she would take her away instantly, and would use all the means in her power to make her renounce the Christian religion. But Mee Aa was to be pleasantly disappointed. Instead of being remanded by her mother to the shadows of heathenism, she was permitted to lead that mother into the light of the Gospel.

“Soon after that date, Mee Aa came trembling, one morning, to Mrs. Wade, with the alarming news that her mother had just arrived at the landing-place, with the intention, doubtless, of taking her away by force; and what should she do? She was told to go and meet her mother, and to pray as she went. But the poor girl need not have been alarmed. She had been incessantly praying for her mother ever since she had learned to pray for herself; and God had heard her prayers, and softened her mother’s heart. So when she heard that her daughter was actually baptized, she only made up a queer face, like a person choking, and said, ‘It was so, was it not? I hear that some quite die under the operation.’ This speech we all considered encouraging. And, accordingly, she soon settled down among us, drank in the truth from her daughter’s lips, and then followed her example.”

But the most pathetic story of all is that of Mee Shway-ee, 336a little child, whom the missionaries rescued from the barbarities of heathenism. They brought her with them from Amherst. When they first heard of her she was a slave-girl, five years old. Her master was a Moor. He afterward turned out to be her own brother, who had formed the diabolical project of killing her by inches. Mr. Judson got possession of the little girl by threatening her master with all the penalties of the English law. Her wretched condition is thus described in Mrs. Wade’s journal:

“Her little body was wasted to a skeleton, and covered from head to foot with the marks of a large rattan, and blows from some sharp-edged thing which left a deep scar. Her master in a rage one day caught her by the arm, and gave it such a twist as to break the bone, from which her sufferings were dreadful. Besides, she had a large and very dreadful burn upon her body, recently inflicted.... She had been tortured so long that her naturally smiling countenance was the very picture of grief and despair..... Almost the first words which the poor little sufferer said to me were, ‘Please to give your slave a little rice, for I am very hungry.’ She was asked if she had not had her breakfast; to which she replied: ‘Yes, but I got very little, so that I am hungry all the day long.’”

The poor little Mee Shway-ee had suffered too much ever to recover. She survived her release from her master only a few months. She died in the glad triumphs of the Christian faith. “I am dying,” she said, “but I am not afraid to die, for Christ will call me up to heaven. He has taken away all my sins, and I wish to die now, that I may go and see Him.”

Her cruel master received his just deserts. He was thrown into prison, where, after waiting trial for several months, he was condemned to a further confinement of four years in irons, and hard labor on the public works. This dreary prospect broke his spirit, and he managed to put an end to his wretched life by taking arsenic.

Mee Shway-ee.^[39]

“In the tropic land of Burmah,

Where the sun grows never old;

337And the regal-browed Palmyra

Crowns her head with clouds of gold;

On a strange, wild promontory,

Close beside the rushing sea,

Listening ever to the billows,

Dwelt poor little Mee Shway-ee.

“But along the sandy sea-shore.

Or amid the foliage green,

Stringing rows of crimson berries,

Was the maiden never seen;

Never twined she her black tresses

With the golden mazalee;

For a wild and woe-marked slave-child

Was poor little Mee Shway-ee.

“And when in the hush of twilight

Rose a startling eldritch cry,

Answered by the gray-winged osprey,

Plunging seaward from the sky;

Then the village wives and maidens,

As they glanced from roof to sea,

Whispered of a human osprey,

And poor writhing Mee Shway-ee.

“But a messenger of Jesus—

Him who, centuries ago,

Bared His bosom to the arrow

Winged by human guilt and woe,

And then said, ‘Go preach my Gospel!

Lo! I’m evermore with thee’—

One who served this blessed Jesus,

Found poor trembling Mee Shway-ee.

“Found her wan, and scarred, and bleeding,

Mad with agony and sin;

So love’s arms were opened widely,

And the sufferer folded in;

Tender fingers soothed and nursed her,

And ’twas wonderful to see

How the winning glance of pity

Tamed the elf-child, Mee Shway-ee.

338“For, beneath those drooping eyelids

Shone a human spirit now,

And the light of thought came playing

Softly over lip and brow;

But her little footstep faltered,—

Beamed her eye more lovingly,—

And ’twas known that death stood claiming

Gentle, trusting Mee Shway-ee.

“But to her he came an angel,

Throned in clouds of rosy light;

Came to bear her to that Saviour

Who had broke her weary night;

And with smiles she sought his bosom;

So, beside the rushing sea,

’Neath the weeping casuarina,

Laid they little Mee Shway-ee.”

But amid the cares and toils of beginning a missionary enterprise in Maulmain, Mr. Judson did not remit his literary labors. The odd moments of time left from zayat work and school work were filled with the work of translation. Even before leaving Amherst he had embarked upon the prodigious task of translating the Old Testament into Burmese. He had begun with the Psalms. After the death of his wife and child his sorrowful heart instinctively turned for consolation to “the prayers of David the son of Jesse.” He had hardly been in Maulmain two years when he makes this record in his journal:

“November 29, 1829. Since my last, we have finished revising the New Testament and the Epitome of the Old—a work in which we have been closely engaged for above a year. We have also prepared for the press several smaller works, viz.:

“1. The Catechism of Religion. This has already passed through two editions in Burmese. It has also been translated and printed into Siamese, and translated into Taling or Peguan.

“2. The View of the Christian Religion, thoroughly revised 339for a fourth edition in Burmese. It has also been translated into Taling and Siamese.

“3. The Liturgy of the Burman Church.

“4. The Baptismal Service.

“5. The Marriage Service.

“6. The Funeral Service; the last three consisting chiefly of extracts from Scripture.

“7. The Teacher’s Guide; or, a Digest of those parts of the New Testament which relate to the Duty of Teachers of Religion, designed particularly for Native Pastors.

“8. A Catechism of Astronomy.

“9. A Catechism of Geography.

“10. A Table of Chronological History; or a Register of principal Events from the Creation to the present Time.

“11. The Memoir of Mee Shway-ee.

“12. The Golden Balance; or, the Christian and Buddhist Systems Contrasted. This has been translated into Taling.

“The Gospel of St. Matthew was also translated into Siamese by Mrs. Judson, and is now being translated into Taling by Ko Man-poke, our assistant in that department.”

While thus absorbed in the work of preaching and teaching and translating at Maulmain, he was not forgetful of the smouldering camp-fires he had left behind him at Rangoon and Amherst. At Rangoon especially, where he had first unfurled the banner of the Christ, and whence he had been rudely driven by the intolerant spirit of the king of Ava, a native church was speedily reorganized under a Burman pastor, Ko Thah-a. It seems that this man was one of the original Rangoon converts.

“At the close of the war,” according to Mr. Judson’s narrative, “he spent a few months at a large village in the neighborhood of Shwa-doung, and there, devoting himself to the preaching of the word, he produced a very considerable excitement. Several professed to believe in the Christian religion; and three of the most promising received baptism at his hands. Some others requested the same favor; but 340he became alarmed at his own temerity, and declined their repeated applications. The villagers, in time, returned to the vicinity of Rangoon, whence they had fled at the commencement of the war. He also returned to Rangoon, his former residence, and continued to disseminate the truth, but in a more cautious and covert manner.”

Ko Thah-a visited Mr. Judson at Maulmain in order to be instructed as to what he should do with those whom he had persuaded to accept of Christ, and who wished to be baptized. It was thought best to ordain him as pastor of the church in Rangoon.

What a stubborn vitality there is in that seminal divine idea, a local church! Mr. and Mrs. Judson formed such a church, when, in 1813, they made their home at the mouth of the Irrawaddy, and all by themselves shared in that Holy Supper which was instituted to commemorate the Saviour’s dying love. The church of two slowly grew into a church of twenty. Then came the war, and the long imprisonment of the pastor at Ava. The church was hewed to the ground. Only four members could be found, and these were transplanted to Amherst. More than two years later Ko Thah-a, who had been lost sight of in the interior of the country, makes his appearance in Maulmain. He has all along been secretly preaching the good news, and now he wants to go back to Rangoon and baptize the converts whom he has won. Out of the stump of the tree cut down there springs a shoot which has bloomed and flourished even to the present time. The Rangoon mission of 1881 now embraces eighty-nine churches and thirty-seven hundred members. “There shall be a handful of corn in the earth upon the top of the mountains; the fruit thereof shall shake like Lebanon.”

Ko Thah-a, the first Christian pastor among the Burmans, proved to be an able minister. Of him Mr. Judson wrote:

“His age (fifty-seven), his steadiness and weight of character, 341his attainments in Burman literature, which, though not, perhaps, necessary, seem desirable in one who is taking up arms against the religion of his country, and his humble devotedness to the sacred work, all conspire to make us acquiesce with readiness and gratitude in the divine appointment.”

Again and again he sent to Maulmain the cheering news of conversions and baptisms; and when, a year and a half after his ordination, Mr. Judson visited him at Rangoon and invited him to go on a missionary tour up the country, he declined, “on account of having so many irons in the fire”—that is, hopeful inquirers—that he must stay to bring forward and baptize. And Mr. Judson adds, “He is as solicitous and busy as a hen pressing about her chickens. It is quite refreshing to hear him talk on the subject, and see what a nice, careful old shepherd he makes. The Lord bless his soul and the souls of his flock!”

Neither did Mr. Judson forget the deserted mission-field at Amherst, where lay the precious dust of his wife and child. Like the Apostle Paul, he felt the deepest solicitude for the spiritual welfare of the converts whom he had left along the track behind him. Moung Ing was ordained and sent to be pastor of the disciples at Amherst.

“The church,” Mr. Judson writes, “consisted of three—Mah Loon-byay, who was baptized while we lived there, and has never left the place; Mah Kai, and her daughter, Mee A, who have lately moved thither. To these are now added pastor Moung Ing and his wife, Mah Lan. May the five become five hundred. May the seed formerly sown in weakness and tears yet spring up and bear fruit. May the last efforts of the one we have lost, whose setting rays sunk in death beneath the hope-tree, prove not to have been in vain; and may the prayers which ascended from her dying bed be yet heard and answered in blessings upon Amherst.”

Moung Ing, however, though diligent and faithful, and 342extremely desirous of doing good, seems to have proved rather a failure as a minister. The prospects at Amherst darkened; and Mr. Judson sadly wrote:

“Moung Ing has had no success at all, though he has not been wanting in diligence and faithfulness. At length we advised him to remove to Tavoy. He, however, preferred Rangoon, and is now co-operating with Ko Thah-a. His wife remained behind. Her conduct has been very exceptionable since her baptism, and soon after her husband’s departure she became openly vicious. She is now suspended from communion—the first case of church discipline that has occurred among the native members.”

One feels his heart drawn out toward the poor fisherman, Moung Ing, one of the very earliest Burman converts, Mrs. Judson’s only dependence at Ava and Oung-pen-la—the first bearer of the Gospel to the Tavoyans, and yet a man whose mission in this world, in spite of zeal, fidelity, and untiring industry, seemed to be ever to fail. In a subsequent letter of Mr. Judson’s, there occurs a pathetic account of his death. His humility and disinterestedness shone forth with a steady ray even in his latest hours.

“During the last year of his life, Ko Ing was supported from the donations of Mr. Colgate, of New York. But at the close of October, 1833, he wrote that, on account of his unworthiness and want of success, he declined receiving any further allowance; that his wife—of whose conversion he had been the means—was able, by keeping a small shop, to support the family; but that he intended, however, to devote himself the same as before to the work to which he had been called. Accordingly, the same letter reports his labors and states his plans for future operations. Such communications he continued to make till his death. In order, however, to square our accounts, we requested him to receive the usual allowance for the remaining two months of that year. He did so, and in acknowledging the receipt of the money, said that he regarded it as a special gift from heaven. We then 343determined that, though he declined any stated allowance, we would occasionally make him presents; and brother Mason has sent him money two or three times, amounting, I believe, to about one-third of his usual allowance. The following is an extract from the letter of a pious sergeant in the detachment stationed at Mergui, dated December 7, 1834:

“‘I was with Ko Ing several times during his illness, and commonly took an interpreter with me; but on account of his extreme weakness and deafness, I could say but little to him. Being anxious, however, to know his experience, I asked him a few questions, as follows: Q. Do you wish to die or not? Ans. I wish to die, if it is the will of God. Q. Why do you wish to die? Ans. I shall go to heaven and be happy. Q. How do you know that you shall go to heaven? Ans. I have read in the word of God that those who serve Him will go there, and my own breast tells me of it (placing his hand on his breast and looking up). Q. How have you served God? Ans. By forsaking my wicked ways, and praying to Him for forgiveness. Q. Do you think all this will take you to heaven? Ans. Jesus Christ came down from above, and died for sinners; and those that are sorry for and forsake their sins shall be saved, because Christ died for them. Q. You don’t think, then, that your works and your own goodness will take you to heaven? Ans. No. All my works are but filthy rags. He was so much exhausted that I asked him no more questions. I think I told you in a former letter that he had his coffin made some days before his death; that our lads carried him to the grave; and I read the funeral service over him.’”

But the time had now come when this little company of missionaries at Maulmain had to be broken up. Judson, Boardman, and Wade—an illustrious triumvirate—could not long expect to work together in the same place. This would be too great a concentration of forces at one point. The Gospel light must be more widely dispersed through the thick gloom of Paganism. The Boardmans were the first to go, though the parting with their missionary associates 344was attended with the keenest suffering. Besides, they had originated the mission at Maulmain, and it was at a peculiar sacrifice that they pressed into the regions beyond. They chose Tavoy as their field of work. It seemed out of the question to assail Burmah proper; and on the long coast of the ceded provinces, Amherst having dwindled into insignificance, Tavoy was the only important point within a hundred and fifty miles. If they went to Arracan, British territory situated on the other side of Burmah proper,^[40] they would be too far away to meet with the other missionaries for such occasional consultation and concert of prayer as seemed advisable to the Board at home. Accordingly, on the 29th of March, 1828, when the missionaries had experienced for only seven months the joy of laboring together in Maulmain, Mr. and Mrs. Boardman with their little family set sail for Tavoy. They were accompanied by a young Siamese convert, Moung Shway-pwen, by a Karen, Ko Thah-byoo—subsequently the renowned apostle to the Karens—and by four of the native school-boys. With this little group of disciples, Mr. Boardman began that brief and heroic campaign among the Karens which has made his name so illustrious in the annals of missions.

On the 15th of December, 1829, Mr. Judson received news of the death at Washington of his brother Elnathan, with whom he had prayed so many years before by the roadside on his way from Plymouth to Boston.^[41] The letter that brought him these sad tidings assured him also that the wayside prayer had been answered. He wrote the following letter of comfort to his distant sister:

“Maulmain, December 21, 1829.

“I have just received yours of May 25 last, giving an account of Elnathan’s death, and also Dr. Sewall’s detail of his dying exercises. Perhaps you have not seen Dr. Sewall’s letter. It closes thus: ‘A few hours before his death, and when he was so low as to be unable to converse or to move, 345he suddenly raised himself up, and clasping his hands, with an expression of joy in his countenance, cried, “Peace, peace!” and then he sunk down, without the power of utterance. About ten minutes before he expired, it was said to him, “If you feel the peace of God in your soul, open your eyes.” He opened his eyes, and soon after expired, and, as we believe, in the triumphs of faith.’ When I read this account, I went into my little room, and could only shed tears of joy, my heart full of gratitude and my tongue of praise. I have felt most anxious about him for a long time; to hear at last that there is some good reason to conclude that he has gone to heaven is enough. So we are dying, one after another. We shall all be there, I trust, before long. I send you and mother a little tract, which I beg you will study prayerfully. Let me urge you frequently to re-examine the foundation of your hope. O, it is a solemn thing to die—an awful thing to go into eternity, and discover that we have been deceiving ourselves! Let us depend upon it that nothing but real faith in Christ, proved to be genuine by a holy life, can support us at last. That faith which consists merely in a correct belief of the doctrines of grace, and prompts to no self-denial,—that faith which allows us to spend all our days in serving self, content with merely refraining from outward sins, and attending to the ordinary duties of religion,—is no faith at all. O, let me beg of you to look well into this matter! And let me beg my dear mother, in her old age, and in view of the near approach of death and eternity, to examine again and again whether her faith is of the right kind. Is it that faith which gives her more enjoyment in Jesus, from day to day, than she finds in anything else?

“May God bless you both, is the fervent prayer of your affectionate brother.”

On the arrival at Maulmain of two new missionaries, the printer, Mr. Cephas Bennett, and his wife, it seemed best that the policy of dispersion should be still more rigorously pursued. Mr. Judson never approved of the huddling of 346missionaries together at any one station. A few years later he wrote:

“Formerly, having spent many years alone, I felt desirous of missionary society, and was disposed to encourage a few to stay together, not doubting but that we should all find enough to do. But I have now learned that one missionary standing by himself, feeling his individual responsibility, and forced to put forth all his efforts, is worth half a dozen cooped up in one place, while there are unoccupied stations in all directions, and whole districts, of thousands and hundreds of thousands, perishing in the darkness of heathenism. You will perhaps wonder that I am frequently writing in this strain. But when I think of seven families,—eight when the ——s are here, which will probably be every rainy season,—my spirit groans within me. I feel that I can not spend my time to better purpose than in endeavoring to effect some change in our present arrangements. I can truly say that all the real missionary work done by all the sisters at this station, from day to day, might and would be done by any two of them, if left to themselves; and this not because they are disposed to indolence or self-indulgence, but simply because there are so many together. Place any one of them in a station by herself, with her husband, and she would become a new creature.”

He also believed in multiplying the centres of light. It might be well for a new missionary upon his first arrival to be kept in training at some long-established post in association with experienced laborers, but then his ultimate aim should be to plunge alone into the thicket of heathenism.

Besides, the time had now come to make a new attempt to enter Burmah proper. Accordingly on February 21, 1830, Mr. and Mrs. Wade removed to Rangoon, Mr. Judson’s old field, where the newly-ordained Moung Thah-a and Moung Ing were laboring. The pain of parting was alleviated by the hope which Mr. Judson cherished of joining them again at Rangoon, with the purpose of once more 347penetrating the valley of the Irrawaddy in the direction of Ava. In a confidential letter, written to the Corresponding Secretary two years and a half before, he had thus described the four beloved coadjutors from whom it was now his duty to be separated:

“Brother Wade is a steady, correct, judicious, persevering, heavenly-minded man. He is much better than he seems on first appearance or a slight acquaintance. I have learned that his advice is safe, and I confide in his judgment more than my own. He is getting a thorough knowledge of the language, and both he and Mrs. Wade speak it very well. In regard to Mrs. Wade I can truly say, that among all my living acquaintances I do not know a single woman who is superior to her in sterling excellence of missionary character. Brother and sister Boardman I am not much acquainted with, and am unable to delineate their distinguishing characteristics. He appears to have a mind well disciplined and readily stirred. She is a truly lovely and estimable woman. Of all the four, I know not which I esteem most. The Wades I love most because I know them best.”

But Mr. Judson could not remain content at Maulmain. He was not satisfied with founding two or three missions on the outermost edge of British Burmah. He longed to penetrate Burmah proper again, and establish a line of mission stations in the Irrawaddy valley, that arterial channel through which the tide of Burmese population surged. Mr. Wade had gone before simply as an avant coureur. His going to Rangoon was only a part of a more general movement. Leaving Maulmain in charge of Mr. Boardman, who had been temporarily recalled from Tavoy, Mr. Judson parted with him and the new-comers, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, on April 26, 1830, and set sail for Rangoon, where he arrived six days later. Before leaving Maulmain, he writes in his journal:

“Our re-entering Burmah is an experiment which we are making with fear and trembling. Accounts from brother 348and sister Wade are rather encouraging. They both give it as their decided opinion that I ought to join them immediately; not merely with a view to Rangoon, but to the neighboring towns, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall render accessible.”

He spent only a few days with Mr. Wade in Rangoon. Then, in the company of five native disciples, he proceeded by boat to Prome, an ancient city situated on the Irrawaddy about one hundred and seventy miles from the mouth. He writes from Rangoon:

“Every day deepens the conviction in my mind that I am not in the place where God would have me be. It was to the interior, and not to Rangoon, that my mind was turned long before I left Maulmain; and while I feel that brother and sister Wade are in the right place, I feel that I am called elsewhere. Under these impressions, I am about proceeding up the river, accompanied by Moung Ing, Moung En, Moung Dway, Moung Dan, baptized April 4, and little Moung Like, mentioned April 18, not yet baptized. The boat on which we embark will take us to Prome, the great half-way place between this and Ava, and there I hope and pray that the Lord will show us what to do.”

This brave effort, however, to plant Christianity at Prome, in the very interior of the Burman empire, the half-way place between Rangoon and Ava, proved a complete failure. Mr. Judson preached the Gospel and distributed tracts all the way up the river, and for three months he and his disciples labored faithfully in Prome. He occupied daily an old tumble-down zayat at the foot of the great pagoda, Shway Landau, and thousands heard the Gospel from his lips. But suddenly the zayat was deserted. He met with cold and rude treatment in the streets. The dogs were allowed to bark at him unmolested. It was rumored that the king at Ava was displeased that the Burman religion should be assailed in the very heart of his empire, and that 349he had given orders that Mr. Judson should be required to depart from Burmah. It subsequently transpired that the king himself was, in reality, kindly disposed toward Mr. Judson. He had inquired some time before where Mr. Judson was, and when told that he was in Maulmain, he said: “Why does he not come here? He is a good man and would, if he were here, teach and discipline my ministers and make better men of them.” The ejection of Mr. Judson from Burmah was a trick on the part of these very prime ministers. They hated all foreign intrusion, and represented to Major Burney, the English ambassador at Ava, that the king was very much displeased with Mr. Judson’s attempt to introduce Christianity into the empire. Major Burney writes:

“Ava, September 1, 1830.

“The ministers requested my advice as to the measures which they ought to pursue with respect to Dr. Judson, who, they said, is come up to Prome, and is there distributing tracts among the inhabitants, and abusing the Burmese religion, much to the annoyance of the king. I told them that Dr. Judson is now exclusively devoted to missionary pursuits; that I possess no power or authority over him, but that I know him to be a very pious and good man, and one not likely to injure the Burmese king or Government in any manner. The ministers replied that the king is much vexed with Dr. Judson for the zeal with which he is distributing among the people writings in which the Burmese faith is held forth to contempt, and that his majesty is anxious to remove him from Prome. I said that the Burmese king and Government have always enjoyed a high reputation among civilized nations for the toleration which they have shown to all religious faiths; that there are thousands, in Europe and America, who would be much hurt and disappointed to hear of any change in the liberal policy hitherto observed by the king of Ava, and that I hope the ministers would not think of molesting or injuring Dr. Judson, as such a proceeding would offend and displease good men of all nations. They 350replied that it was for this reason, to avoid hurting Dr. Judson, that they had consulted me; and they propose that I should write and advise Dr. Judson of the king’s sentiments toward him. I reiterated my assurances that Dr. Judson is in no way connected with me or my Government, and that I can issue no orders to him; and I begged the ministers to leave him alone, which, however, they said they could not, as his majesty had expressed himself much displeased with his conduct. I consented at last to write to Dr. Judson, but I told the ministers to recollect that I had no right to interfere with him, who would, notwithstanding any letter he might receive from me, act in whatever manner his own judgment and conscience might dictate. The ministers begged of me only to recommend Dr. Judson to return to Rangoon, and confine his missionary labors within that city.”

And so Mr. Judson was forced sadly and reluctantly to abandon his project of carrying the Gospel into Central Burmah. The thrilling narrative of his experiences in Prome and of his return to Rangoon is best told in his own words:

To the Missionaries at Rangoon and Maulmain.

“Prome, June 26, 1830.

“Dear Brethren and Sisters: To-day I have taken possession of the old zayat allowed me by Government. Part of it we have inclosed in rooms, and the other part we have left open for the reception of company. Several people accosted us as they passed. ‘So you have moved, have you? We shall come and see you before long.’ There are at present no hopeful inquirers; but some visitors from Men-dai and Men-yoo-ah approximate toward that character.

“July 2. A great change has taken place in the minds of Government people toward me. Satan has industriously circulated a report that I am a spy in pay of the British. Last night the deputy governor sent to inquire my name and title. This morning I waited on him, and on the lady governess, but met with a very cold reception at both places. The deputy governor is probably reporting me to Ava, and what 351the consequences will be I know not. Several visitors, who began to listen with some favorable disposition, have suddenly fallen off. To-day I have had no company at all.