She, therefore, after conducting the preliminary services, delivered a general address, dwelling particularly on the necessity of repentance, and presenting Christ as a compassionate Redeemer. This extempore address was attended with such beneficial results, that her friends insisted upon her exercising her very evident talent in this direction, and, though averse to any thing like forwardness, she did not feel that she was justified in refusing to comply with the wishes of those on whose judgment she relied. Wherever she went, success attended her efforts, and she traveled extensively throughout the kingdom, speaking sometimes to very large audiences.
Dr. Stevens, the celebrated American Methodist historian, thus sums up the work of a single year. “In that time,” says he, “she traveled nine hundred and sixty miles to hold two hundred and twenty public meetings, and about six hundred select meetings, besides writing one hundred and sixteen letters, many of them long ones, and holding many conversations in private with individuals who wished to consult her on religious subjects.” In this latter department of the Christian ministry she particularly excelled.
Like her friend, Mrs. Fletcher, she lived to a very old age; and at seventy-five, or nearly that, calmly composed herself for death, by a vigorous effort of the will closing her own eyes and mouth. Her demise occurred October 24, 1804.
ANN HASSELTINE.
The first wife of the Rev. Adoniram Judson was a brilliant exemplification of the truth of the position we have advanced–namely, that a woman may be endowed with intellectual powers of a high order; that she may assiduously cultivate those powers and employ them in advancing objects that commend themselves to her judgment outside of her own family circle; that she may become an active and efficient participator in affairs of a public nature, requiring of her wisdom, eloquence, and courage; and all this without her deteriorating in the slightest degree in any of the valuable qualities or attractive graces that characterize a truly womanly woman.
Mrs. Judson’s history, as connected with the Burmese Mission, which her husband and herself were instruments in the hand of God in establishing, is too well known to require extended notice here. A few points, however, may be glanced at. Throughout the difficulties which beset them during the first year after their arrival at Calcutta, when there seemed to be no open door through which they might enter upon their destined work, and all their hopes of usefulness seemed doomed to disappointment, Mrs. Judson was as little disposed to succumb to these adverse circumstances as her husband.
The British East India Company did not favor Christian missions, and were at that time (1812) particularly unfriendly to American missionaries. They had spent but a few days in the congenial society of the venerable Dr. Carey’s hospitable home, when they were ordered, by the Government, to leave the country and return to America. Hoping to be allowed to prosecute their work in some country not under the Company’s jurisdiction, they solicited and obtained permission to go to the Isle of France. But before Mr. and Mrs. Judson were able to secure a passage there, they received a new order from the Government commanding them to embark on a vessel bound for England.
Just then they heard of a vessel about to sail for the Isle of France, and applied for a passport to go on her, but were refused. The captain, however, though knowing of the refusal, allowed them to embark. The vessel was overtaken by a Government dispatch, forbidding the pilot to conduct it further seaward, because there were persons on board who had been ordered to England. They were obliged to land; but finally the captain was induced to disregard orders so far as to allow Mrs. Judson to return to the vessel, and to convey her and their baggage to a point opposite a tavern, a number of miles down the river, Mr. Judson being left to make his way as best he could.
Let us imagine that refined and tenderly reared lady, landing from the pilot’s boat, which he had kindly sent to take her ashore, alone, a stranger in a foreign land, uncertain of the character of the place in which she was obliged to seek shelter, and not knowing what might occur to prevent her husband rejoining her. Instead of weakly yielding to despondency, she promptly engaged a boat to go out after the vessel, to bring their effects ashore. Then, though impenetrable darkness so shrouded their future that she could not see how the next step was to be taken, she looked for light upon their pathway, and deliverance from their perplexities, to Him whom they served, and calmly trusted the issue to Him. Before night, Mr. Judson arrived at the place where his wife waited, in safety, as did also their baggage.
For three days they could see no way out of their difficulty. Then they received, from an unknown friend, the necessary pass. Hastening down the river at a point seventy miles distant, they found the vessel they had left, were received on board, and allowed to continue their voyage.
When they dropped anchor at the Isle of France, the dangers of the voyage, and the trials that had preceded it over, they were looking forward to a season of enjoyment in the society of their associate missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Newell, who had accompanied them on the voyage from America, and had preceded them from Calcutta to the Isle of France. But disappointment deeper, sadder than any that had gone before, awaited them. Mrs. Judson says: “Have at last arrived in port; but O, what news–what distressing news! Harriet (Mrs. Newell) is dead. Harriet, my dear friend, my earliest associate in the mission, is no more. O death, could not this wide world afford thee victims enough, but thou must enter the family of a solitary few, whose comfort and happiness depended so much on the society of each other? Could not this infant mission be shielded from thy shafts?” “But be still, my heart, and know that God has done it. Just and true are thy ways, O thou King of saints!”
To her sorrow for her friend and her anxiety at the uncertainties of their situation, was added, while on the island, a severe attack of illness. But when a field supposed to be accessible to missionaries was determined upon, though only partially recovered, she cheerfully prepared to brave new dangers and the repetition of former trials. They sailed for Madras; and, on their arrival there, found but one ship in the harbor ready for sea, and that not bound for their desired port, but for Burma. They had intended going to Burma when they first arrived in India, but had been dissuaded from so doing by the representations of their friends that the country was altogether inaccessible to missionaries. They dared not remain long in Madras, lest the officials of the East India Company should send them back to America. Thus, every other way being closed up against them, they were obliged to turn their faces toward that country in which they became so eminently useful.
The voyage was one of discomfort and peril. When they arrived at Rangoon, then the capital of Burma, Mrs. Judson was so weak that she had to be carried in an arm-chair from the landing. Thankful to have at last found a resting-place, they as quickly as possible established themselves in the house they were to occupy.
As soon as Mrs. Judson’s health was sufficiently restored, they gave their attention to the study of the Burmese language. It is worthy of remark, that although Mrs. Judson charged herself with the entire management of family affairs, in order that Mr. Judson might not be interrupted in prosecuting the study of the language, yet she made more rapid progress in acquiring it than he did. Subsequently, she studied the Siamese language also, and translated a Catechism and one of the Gospels into that tongue. As soon as she was able to make herself understood, she diligently endeavored to impart the knowledge of the truth, as it is in Jesus, to those who would listen to her instructions. Though they were attentive and inquisitive, it was long before fruit appeared; but undiscouraged, she, with prayer and faith, continued to sow beside all waters.
Mrs. Judson was surprised at the native intelligence and reflecting minds possessed by some of the Burmese women. The case of a woman named May-Meulah is given as an instance of this:
“Previous to the arrival of the missionaries in her country, her active mind was led to inquire the origin of all things. Who created all that her eyes beheld? she inquired of all she met, and visited priests and teachers in vain; and such was her anxiety, that her friends feared for her reason. She resolved to learn to read, that she might consult the sacred books. Her husband, willing to gratify her curiosity, taught her to read, himself. In their sacred literature she found nothing satisfactory. For ten years she prosecuted her inquiries, when God in his providence brought to her notice a tract written by Mr. Judson in the Burmese language, which so far solved her difficulties, that she was led to seek out its author. From him she learned the truths of the Gospel, and, by the Holy Spirit, those truths were made the means of her conversion.”
Mrs. Judson’s politic mind seeing the probable importance to the mission of making friends in high places, she procured an introduction to the wife of the viceroy, and, while visiting her, met the viceroy also. After giving an interesting account of the visit, she adds: “My object in visiting her was, that if we should get into any difficulty with the Burmans, I could have access to her, when perhaps it would not be possible for Mr. Judson to have an audience with the viceroy.”
Thus studying, teaching, and planning; laboring with her hands, and enduring pain, sickness, and sorrow; unsolaced by Christian society, except her husband’s,–three anxious years passed.
In their course, her first-born had come to warm her heart with a new love, and, for a few brief months, to delight them with the unfolding of his baby graces. Then death entered, and bore away their darling, and left hearts and home more lonely than before.
The arrival of additional missionaries from America–Mr. and Mrs. Hough–in the Autumn of 1816, for a time greatly cheered and encouraged them. But fresh trials were in store for them. Mr. Judson had embarked for the province of Arracan; and when they were daily looking for his return, a vessel arrived from the port to which he had sailed, bringing the disheartening tidings that neither he nor the vessel in which he had sailed had been heard of there. While, tortured by suspense on Mr. Judson’s account, new terrors alarmed the mission family. Mr. Hough was ordered to the court-house, and detained there for days under a threat that “if he did not tell all the truth in relation to the foreigners, they would write with his heart’s blood.” Not understanding the language of his accusers, he was unable to plead his own cause, and he had no male friend to do it for him. Had Mrs. Judson, in this extremity, allowed herself to be absorbed in her own sorrow, or yielded to timidity, Mr. Hough would probably have suffered a long and rigorous confinement, if indeed he had escaped with his life. But undaunted by the odium, or even danger, that might accrue to herself, she, in violation of court etiquette, presented herself at the palace with a petition in Mr. Hough’s behalf. The viceroy, without manifesting any displeasure at the breach of etiquette, ordered Mr. Hough to be set at liberty.
Six months of painful suspense passed, and yet no tidings of Mr. Judson. That dreadful scourge, the cholera, was raging, and they were alarmed by rumors of war. Mr. Hough resolved to remove his family to Bengal, and urged Mrs. Judson to accompany them. She says: “I have ever felt resolved not to make any movement till I hear from Mr. Judson. Within a few days, however, some circumstances have occurred which have induced me to make preparations for a voyage. There is but one remaining ship in the river; and if an embargo is laid on English ships, it will be impossible for Mr. Judson–if he is yet alive–to return to this place.” Therefore she yielded to the solicitations of Mr. and Mrs. Hough, and embarked with them. But, reviewing all the conditions of the case as the vessel slowly made its way down the river, it became clear to her mind that whatever were the dangers of her position at Rangoon, yet there was her post of duty. Once convinced of what was duty, this heroic woman was not to be deterred from it by dangers, however formidable. Her resolution was taken; and, having prevailed upon the captain to send a boat up the river with her, she returned alone to the mission-house. The wisdom of her decision was proved in a short time by the safe return of Mr. Judson. Later, when failing health necessitated a change of climate, Mrs. Judson showed herself as well adapted to moving gracefully in cultivated and refined society as she was to contending with adversity and danger in a heathen land.
Her eloquent appeals, both in England and America, in behalf of the perishing millions of the East, and her history of the Burmese Mission, prepared during her visit to the United States, stirred up missionary zeal in the heart of Protestant Christendom, and gave an impetus to the cause of missions that has gone on accelerating to the present time.
In the mean time, other missionaries had arrived in Burma, among whom was Dr. Price, the fame of whose skill in medicine reached the ears of the king; and Dr. Price was ordered to Ava, then the capital. Dr. Price obeyed the summons; and Mr. Judson, anxious to make another effort to procure toleration for the Christians, accompanied him. The king received them kindly, determined to retain Dr. Price at Ava, and urgently insisted upon Mr. Judson’s remaining also. Rejoiced to find the king so favorably disposed toward the Christians, Mr. Judson resolved to accept the invitation, but represented that he must return to Rangoon for his wife.
A few days after Mrs. Judson arrived from America, they therefore left Rangoon, and commenced a mission at Ava; which soon became to them the theater of such martyr-like sufferings and exalted heroism as to do justice to which would require a volume. Erelong, the war so long feared between the British and the Burmese actually broke out. The Englishmen at Ava were all seized and imprisoned, and with them Mr. Judson and Dr. Price. In vain the missionaries protested that they were not Englishmen. Identical with the latter in language, religion, manners, dress, etc., and receiving their funds through an English house, the Burmese could not, or would not, understand that they belonged to another nation.
Mrs. Judson was not allowed to leave her own house till the third day; a guard having been placed around it, and no one allowed to enter or leave it but at the penalty of life. She obtained egress at last, by causing the governor to be informed that she wished to visit him with a present. The guard were then ordered to allow her to pass. Her plea for their release was without effect; but she was directed to an officer with whom she might arrange with regard to making them more comfortable. By paying a considerable sum of money to this man, she obtained a promise that their sufferings should be mitigated.
The Governor gave her an order for her admittance to the prison, but she was not allowed to enter. She saw Mr. Judson at the door, whither he crawled to speak with her. But even this sad communing was cut short by a rude order to Mrs. Judson to “depart, or they would pull her out.” She was, however, allowed to supply the prisoners with food, and mats to lie upon.
This was the beginning of a long series of such visits to the prison–of efforts for the comfort of the prisoners, and appeals in their behalf to jailers, petty officers, magistrates, governors, or members of the royal family.
She was subjected to all manner of extortion and annoyance, being repeatedly brought before the authorities on the most absurd charges. The fear that her husband would be put to death so haunted her, that she was willing to meet the most exorbitant demands, hoping thereby to conciliate his persecutors.
After she had succeeded in effecting some slight improvement in their condition, all was reversed by a disastrous battle; the success of the British being visited upon the prisoners, by the withdrawal of all the little comforts Mrs. Judson had at so much cost and trouble obtained for them. When they were dragged from one city to another, she followed, renewing the same wearing round of toiling, pleading, paying, to procure some alleviation of their misery.
The estimation in which she was held by those acquainted with the facts, may be seen by the following, written by one of Mr. Judson’s fellow-prisoners:
“Mrs. Judson was the author of those eloquent and forcible appeals to the Government which prepared them by degrees for submission to terms of peace, never expected by any who knew the haughtiness and inflexible pride of the Burmese Court.
“And while on this subject, the overflowings of grateful feelings, on behalf of myself and fellow-prisoners, compel me to add a tribute of public thanks to that amiable and humane female, who, though living at a distance of two miles from our prison, without any means of conveyance, and very feeble in health, forgot her own comfort and infirmity, and almost every day visited us, sought out and administered to our wants, and contributed in every way to alleviate our misery.
“When we were all left by the Government destitute of food, she, with unwearied perseverance, by some means or other, obtained for us a constant supply.
” … When the unfeeling avarice of our keepers confined us inside, or made our feet fast in the stocks, she, like a ministering angel, never ceased her applications to the Government until she was authorized to communicate to us the grateful news of our enlargement, or of a respite from our galling oppressions.
“Besides all this, it was unquestionably owing in a chief degree to the repeated eloquence and forcible appeals of Mrs. Judson, that the untutored Burman was finally made willing to secure the welfare of his country by a sincere peace.”
The war being over, Mr. Judson determined to remove into one of the provinces ceded to the British; and the new town of Amherst was selected as their place of residence.
The natives converted to Christianity through the instrumentality of the missionaries, had been dispersed during the war; and many of them now gathered to Amherst, to enjoy again the instructions of their beloved teachers. Their prospects now seemed highly encouraging; and Mr. Judson departed on a journey by which he hoped to advance the interests of the mission, leaving Mrs. Judson engaged with her characteristic energy in carrying forward arrangements to facilitate their work.
But never more were that clear head, ready hand, and sympathetic heart to aid or encourage him in his labors, or succor him in the hour of calamity. Her work was done.
A fever seized her, and her constitution, undermined by the exhausting sufferings, mental and physical, through which she had passed during the war, was not able to withstand the violence of the disease. There, without husband or kindred to receive her frail infant from her paralyzing arms, or to speak words of love or comfort in her dying ears, she battled with the last enemy, and terminated her singularly eventful and useful life.
In 1848, more than twenty years after her death, a writer in the _Calcutta Review_ thus speaks of her:
“Of Mrs. Judson, little is known in the noisy world. Few, comparatively, are acquainted with her name–few with her actions; but if any woman, since the first arrival of the white strangers on the shores of India, has, on that great theater of war stretching between the mouth of the Irrawaddy and the borders of Hindoo Koosh, rightly earned for herself the title of a heroine, Mrs. Judson has, by her doings and sufferings, fairly earned the distinction–a distinction, be it said, which her true woman’s nature would have very little appreciated. Still, it is right that she should be honored by the world. Her sufferings were far more unendurable, her heroism far more noble, than any which in more recent times have been so much pitied and so much applauded…. She was the real heroine. The annals in the East present us with no parallel.”
SARAH HALL BOARDMAN JUDSON.
Who so worthily followed in the footsteps of the first Mrs. Judson, arrived in India with her first husband, the Rev. George D. Boardman, while Mr. Judson and his fellow-sufferers were still prisoners in Ava. They remained in Calcutta till the close of the war, and some time after, preparing themselves by the study of the Burmese language, etc., for their subsequent career of usefulness in Burma.
After they had joined the other missionaries at Amherst, Maulmain was determined upon as the scene of their future labors, and thither they repaired. The dangers that encompassed their new residence were such as in the presence of which even stout hearts might have been excused for quailing. The mission-house was a slight structure of bamboos, constituting scarcely any obstruction to assailants disposed to effect an entrance, and in such close proximity to the jungle that the slumbers of the missionaries were frequently disturbed by the howling of the wild beasts, whose lairs had so recently given place to human habitations. Maulmain was then a new city that had suddenly sprung into existence within the territory ceded to the British.
They had been settled in their new abode but a few weeks, when it was entered in the night by robbers, who overhauled all their effects, and carried away most of their valuables while they slept.
Mrs. Boardman, speaking of the event, says: “After the first amazement had a little subsided, I raised my eyes to the curtains surrounding our bed, and, to my indescribable emotion, saw two large holes cut, the one at the head and the other at the foot of the place where my dear husband had been sleeping. From that moment I quite forgot the stolen goods, and thought only of the treasure that was spared. In imagination I saw the assassins, with their horrid weapons, standing by our bedside, ready to do their worst had we been permitted to wake. O, how merciful was that watchful Providence which prolonged those powerful slumbers of that night, not allowing even the infant at my bosom to open its eyes at so critical a moment!”
After the robbery, a guard was sent from the English barracks to protect the missionaries in case of another visit from the marauders. One of the guard narrowly escaped death from a wild beast, which, rushing out of the jungle, leaped upon him while he was seated upon the veranda of the mission-house. Happily there was help at hand, and the animal was frightened away before the man had sustained serious injury.
Do we find Mrs. Boardman, while thus continually exposed to attacks of ravenous beasts and fierce banditti, deploring her situation, or expressing a desire to relinquish their work and return to the security and comfort of civilized life? On the contrary, she characterizes the months in which these events were transpiring as among the happiest of her life, because she felt that they were in the path of duty.
Afterward, in order to the further extension of missionary operations in the country, it was judged advisable for Mr. and Mrs. Boardman to leave the infant Church and the schools they had so successfully established at Maulmain, to the care of the other missionaries, and to proceed themselves to Tavoy. Accordingly, they sundered the ties that bound them to their first Indian home, and to the natives in whose conversion they had been instrumental, and again devoted their energies to breaking up new ground.
At Tavoy, after overcoming various obstacles and discouragements, they succeeded in establishing schools, and were cheered by indications of prosperity and some conversions among the natives.
The conversion of a Karen having attracted Mr. Boardman’s attention to that interesting tribe, he, though scarcely recovered from a dangerous illness, made a tour among them with very gratifying results. It required no small amount of courage and of exalted devotion to the cause in which they were engaged to make Mrs. Boardman willing to be left, with her two little ones, among the natives in such a place, and with no better protection from outside dangers than a bamboo hut, her mind, at the same time, distressed by sad forebodings as to the probable consequence to her husband’s feeble health of the exposures, toils, and dangers inseparable from his journey. But she was equal to this and to sorer trials which yet awaited them at Tavoy. Some of these were consequences of the rebellion of the Tavoyans against the British.
It was fortunate for Mr. and Mrs. Boardman that they, at that time, resided in a place occupied by a British force; small though the force was, yet to its presence they were probably indebted for their exemption from aggravated sufferings, if not from death itself.
From a letter of Mr. Boardman’s we take some extracts. He says: “On Lord’s-day morning, the 9th instant, at four o’clock, we were aroused from our quiet slumbers by the cry of ‘Teacher, master, Tavoy rebels!’ and ringing at all our doors and windows. We were soon awake to our extreme danger, as we heard not only a continual report of musketry within the town, but the balls were frequently passing over our heads and through our house; and, in a few moments, a large company of Tavoyans collected near our gate, and gave us reason to suspect they were consulting what to do with us. We lifted our hearts to God for protection, and Mrs. Boardman and little George were hurried away through a back door to a retired building in the rear. I lay down in the house (to escape the bullets), with a single Burman boy to watch and communicate the first intelligence.”
On the kind invitation of Mrs. Burney, the wife of the English resident, who happened to be absent, they sought shelter from the storm of bullets in the Government-house. Mr. Boardman continues: “We had been at the Government-house but a short time, when it was agreed to evacuate the town and retire to the warf–a large wooden building of six rooms. Our greatest danger at this time arose from having, in one of the rooms where many were to sleep, and all of us were continually passing, several hundred barrels of gunpowder, to which, if fire should be communicated accidentally by ourselves, or mischievously by others, we should all perish at once. But, through the kind care of our Heavenly Father, we were preserved alive, and nothing of importance occurred until the morning of Thursday, a little before daybreak, when a party of five hundred advanced upon us from the town, and set fire to several houses and vessels near the warf. But God interposed in our behalf, and sent a heavy shower of rain, which extinguished the fire, while the Sepoys repelled the assailants.”
Mrs. Boardman’s biographer says: “What could be more appalling to the stoutest heart than the situation of Mrs. Boardman and her helpless family? Forced to flee from her frail hut, by bullets actually whizzing through it, and to pass through the town amid the yells of an infuriated rabble, her path sometimes impeded by the dead bodies of men who had fallen in the conflict; driven from the shelter of the Government-house, again to fly through the streets to the warf-house, and there, with three or four hundred fugitives crowded together, to await death, which threatened them in every form; hearing over their heads the rush of cannon balls, and seeing from burning buildings showers of sparks falling, one of which, if it reached the magazines under their roof, was sufficient to tear the building from its foundations, and whelm them all in one common ruin; or, if they escaped this danger, to know that hundreds of merciless barbarians, with knives and cutlasses, might, at any moment, rush into the building and destroy them,–can the female heart, we are ready to ask, endure such fearful trial? Yes: her mind was stayed by a ‘courage not her own;’ … its calmness was that of a child who, in its utter helplessness, clings to its father’s arm.”
Her distress was aggravated by the alarming illness of her little boy, caused by the foul air of the warf-house and the absence of accustomed comforts; but, by the blessing of God upon her watchful care, it was spared to her.
“With what transports of joy did that suffering company hail the sight of the thin blue smoke that heralded the arrival of a steamer from Maulmain! Amid what distracting fears for her husband, left in the revolted city, her infant and herself, did Mrs. Boardman decide to go on board the steamer returning to Maulmain! And with what gratitude and joy did she, after several days of painful suspense, welcome to the same city her husband, and hear the tidings of the triumph of British power and the restoration of tranquillity!”
The rebellion being suppressed, Mr. Boardman set about repairing the mischief it had wrought. Their house had been cut to pieces, and their books, clothing, furniture, etc., carried off, mutilated, or destroyed. He gathered up such fragments as remained, and made the best arrangements in his power for future comfort and usefulness. Illness and other causes detained Mrs. Boardman for some time at Maulmain; but, before Winter, she had returned, and they were again engaged in their “loved employ,” and were greatly strengthened and encouraged by seeing the good seed they had so faithfully sown amid opposition and discouragement, bringing forth fruit in the conversion of the heathen. But, even while rejoicing in these triumphs of the truth, Mrs. Boardman could not conceal from herself the conviction that a greater sorrow than any she had yet known was coming upon her. She had already twice experienced the agony that wrings the hearts of bereaved parents. Of their three children, two had been taken from them by death,–their first-born, a lovely and promising little girl of two years and eight months; and, afterward, their second son, a beautiful babe of eight months. But all the suffering and sorrow that she had yet endured seemed as nothing in comparison with that which now threatened to overwhelm her. Her beloved husband, who had been her comfort and solace under previous bereavements, was now himself too evidently passing away.
Ardently affectionate in her nature, she suffered intense anguish of spirit; but instead of giving way to rebellious repinings, the poor bruised heart carried its sorrows to the Great Healer, and in his strength she girded herself with fresh courage to do all that might yet be done.
When her dying husband could not be dissuaded from employing the last remnant of his ebbing life in another visit to his beloved Karens, we find her taking her place beside his portable couch, that his sufferings might receive every possible alleviation; that he might lack no tender attention that the most devoted love could give.
They arrived at their destination on the third day, and found awaiting them nearly a hundred natives, more than half of whom were applicants for baptism. The place prepared for the accommodation of Mr. and Mrs. Boardman and their little boy, was a room five feet wide and ten feet long, so low that Mrs. Boardman could not stand upright in it, and so insufficiently inclosed as not to shelter the sufferer from the cold and damp of the night air, or the scorching rays of the sun by day. Those who have known what it is to watch beside dying loved ones, witnessing suffering that they were powerless to relieve, can imagine the anguish that Mrs. Boardman endured in seeing her husband so near his end in that miserable place, destitute of the little comforts so needful in sickness. But with heroic determination she repressed her own sorrow, lest it might incapacitate her for assisting him while rallying his expiring energies for one more effort in his Master’s cause. The poor worn body, though, was found unequal to the task assigned it by the zealous spirit, and he was forced to admit that his work was done.
Mrs. Boardman, speaking of their return journey, in which they were accompanied by large numbers of the sorrowing native converts, says: “But at four o’clock in the afternoon, we were overtaken by a violent shower of rain, accompanied by lightning and thunder. There was no house in sight, and we were obliged to remain in the open air, exposed to the merciless storm. We covered him with mats and blankets, and held our umbrellas over him, all to no purpose. I was obliged to stand and see the storm beating upon him till his mattress and pillows were drenched with rain. We hastened on, and soon came to a Tavoy house. The inhabitants at first refused us admittance…. After some persuasion, they admitted us into the house, or rather veranda; for they would not allow us to sleep inside, though I begged the privilege for my sick husband with tears…. The rain still continued, and his cot was wet, so that he was obliged to lie on the bamboo floor. Having found a place where our little boy could sleep without danger of falling through openings in the floor, I threw myself down, without undressing, beside my beloved husband.”
Thus they passed the last night of his life; and, before another night, it was but a lifeless corpse that the attendants were bearing back to her now desolate home.
In her grief and loneliness, her heart doubtless yearned for the soothing sympathy of her kindred and friends in her native land. Who would have censured her, if in view of what had been achieved among the natives since their coming to Tavoy, and of all the trials and toils and dangers of her Indian life, it had seemed to her that her work was accomplished; and that it would then be no desertion of duty for her, with her little boy to educate, to return to America? If, during the first sad days of her bereavement, such thoughts flitted through her mind, they did not long find lodgment there. Soon the native converts began to come to her, as of old, with their difficulties and perplexities, and inquiries for instruction. The duty of responding to these appeals forbade the indulgence of engrossing sorrow, and caused her to realize that, when work for the Master was pressing on every hand, and one of the laborers had fallen in the field, his fellow-laborers, instead of relaxing their efforts, should feel it imperative on them, if possible, to redouble their diligence.
Thenceforward her labors became more onerous than they had been during Mr. Boardman’s life; and they continued so, even after the arrival of the new missionaries, Mr. Mason and his wife, who of necessity were chiefly occupied with the study of the language. In one of her letters of this period she says:
“Every moment of my time is occupied, from sunrise till ten in the evening. It is late bed-time, and I am surrounded by five Karen women…. The Karens are beginning to come to us in companies; and with them, and our scholars in the town, and the care of my darling boy, you will scarce think I have much leisure for letter-writing.”
Later, she writes: “The superintendence of the food and clothing of both the boarding-schools, together with the care of five day-schools under native teachers, devolves wholly on me.”
She also made difficult journeys through the wild jungles to the Karen villages, to strengthen, encourage, and instruct the poor natives; thus performing efficiently, though informally, the work of an evangelist.
After her marriage with Dr. Judson, and her consequent return to Maulmain, she was still busily engaged in conducting schools, Bible-class, etc., besides attending to her family. She also learned the Peguan language, into which she translated the New Testament, a Life of Christ, and several tracts. In Burmese she had previously become proficient, and she translated “Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress” into that language. A number of the hymns prepared for the use of the mission were also from her pen.
At Maulmain she was exposed to fewer vicissitudes and dangers than at Tavoy, so that the intrepid aspect of her character became less conspicuous; but her life was filled up with increased maternal responsibilities and domestic cares, added to other arduous labors of the same class with those which she had previously discharged with so much sound judgment, and in which she exhibited so happily the ability to influence and govern those under her control, and at the same time to win their love and reverence for herself. One of her biographers says of her:
“Sweetness and strength, gentleness and firmness, were in her character most happily blended. Her mind was both poetical and practical. She had a refined taste, and a love for the beautiful as well as the excellent.”
In early life she wooed the Muses with respectable success; and though the stern labors of mature years left her little leisure for the indulgence of poetic fancies, yet the last expression of her love committed to writing flowed from her pen in numbers of touching grace and tenderness.
Her constitution having been broken down by her incessant toils, a voyage to America was recommended in order to recuperate it. On the voyage thither, when between the Isle of France and St. Helena, she died, and was buried on the latter island.
We have selected these two gifted Christian women as representative missionary women, who, though brilliant examples, did not excel many others in the host of devoted women who have gone out from Great Britain and America into the dark places of the earth, on the same godlike errand.
We have already mentioned the honored names of several philanthropic ladies, whose works praise them throughout Europe and America. The list might be extended indefinitely, but we have space for but a few.
THE MISSES CHANDLER.
The National Hospital erected for the Paralyzed and Epileptic (England) owes its origin to the humane efforts of two sisters, Joanna and Louisa Chandler. These ladies, finding that among all the charitable institutions existing in London there was not one into which a poor paralyzed man would be admitted, conceived the idea of establishing a hospital for that particular class of sufferers. Though only in moderate circumstances, they devoted two hundred pounds of their own means to the object. For five years, they received no assistance; but their continued appeals at length attracted public attention. Various philanthropic gentlemen and ladies became interested in the enterprise. The necessary funds were collected mainly by the exertions of Miss J. Chandler and the ladies who had associated themselves with her, and the hospital became an accomplished fact.
The same persevering energy, directed by sound judgment and practical business talent, was conspicuously displayed by Miss Adaline Cooper, in her efforts for the improvement of the condition and morals of the costermongers of Tothill Fields, Westminster. Among the degraded, they as a class were regarded as the most degraded. But, strong in her faith in the power of kindness, she went in among them, and commenced day and night schools, a Sunday-school, a mothers’ meeting, and a temperance society. Through these appliances she influenced the women and children, but the men stood aloof. The more desperate even threatened to drive her and her assistants away; but she was not to be intimidated. She erected a handsome building for a Costermongers’ Club; and constructed a dwelling-house large enough to accommodate fifty or sixty families. The entire expenditure for these purposes amounted to nearly nine thousand pounds.
Soon after the Club was formed, a large number of the members, perceiving the benefit of abstinence, signed the pledge. She formed a Bible-class for their improvement, and established a penny-bank for the Band of Hope.
In reward of her labors, she had the satisfaction of seeing a marked reformation in both their morals and circumstances. Very many of these poor people, the very name of whose calling had been a synonym for dishonesty and kindred vices, became sober, industrious, and honest men and women.
Sketches innumerable of other women of very great merit, particularly of those who have enriched our literature during the present century, might be added, did the limits of so small a volume permit; which it does not. It must suffice, therefore, to mention the names of a few of these, while the names of many others equally meritorious must necessarily be omitted.
First, we write Mrs. Browning, a name surrounded by a halo of glory from the scintillations of her own genius.
Charlotte Bronté, Miss Mulock, Mrs. Wood, and Mrs. Oliphant form a brilliant galaxy, but scarcely outshine others in the same department.
Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe has made her mark upon her age, and is not likely to be forgotten while the War of Secession is remembered.
The sweet strains of the sisters Cary will linger long in the ears and hearts of the lovers of song.
The name of the gentle Swede, Fredrika Bremer, will live as long as the language in which she writes shall be spoken or read; while Mary Howitt, her translator, is, through these beautiful translations, and her own inimitably chaste and home-like stones, endeared to both English and American hearts.
Mrs. Willard will bear a favorable comparison with any other American historian, let him be ever so famous.
Mrs. Moodie and her gifted sisters, Mrs. Trail and Miss Strickland, have acquired a world-wide reputation by their pens.
Which of our living authors possesses a more terse or vigorous style than Gail Hamilton? And where are more self-sacrificing spirits to be found than in those bands of lady missionaries, worthy successors of Harriet Newell and Ann Hasseltine Judson, who every year leave our coasts to carry the Gospel to heathen lands?
Large numbers of clever women are attracting the attention of the thinking people of both England and America, not only as public speakers and leaders of much-needed reforms, but for the honorable position to which they have attained in literary and scientific circles and in the arts. The scenes, however, in which they are the active participants are still transpiring; and therefore these women, some of them both honorable and great, in the best and highest acceptation of the terms, can not just at the present be classed among the women of history. But though they are not far enough back in the past to be placed in this category, they are furnishing the materials for both an instructive and an interesting one in the future; and that future, too, not very far distant. All honor to the brave, the good, and true among them.
THE END