Chapter Ix. Life In Maulmain. 1827-1831.

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. Virtues they have, but are full of the life and attractions of nature, and unacquainted 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 his 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.

“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,

“August 17, 1829.”

“... 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 take away. O, the freeness, the richness of divine grace, through the blood of the cross!

To the sisters of his wife he wrote as follows:

“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.”

“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.

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 with 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 utmost 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 gave 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:

“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. I 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 mercy 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 this 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,

In the “Threefold Cord,”—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.

“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.”

“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 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.

“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.

“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, in consideration of 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. 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:

“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.

“P. S.—It is not from an affected desire of concealment that 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.

“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, including 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.

“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.

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:

“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.

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:

“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 the 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 his 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,

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 had 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 Magazine, 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 strives to comfort a heart-broken mother, weeping in her room after her husband has gone on board ship with her little girls, about to sail for America.

“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.

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—

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 have 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. 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 Campbell 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 the 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. 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 their 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 death-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 with 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 investigated 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:

“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) about twelve years ago, one of the two Burman girls 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 Wade 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, a 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.

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 for 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 he 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, his 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 extremely 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 determined 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 was 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, 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. 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:

“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, he 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 missionaries 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 penetrating 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 and 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 he 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:

“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 replied 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:

“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 the 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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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