nevertheless, the experience she had gained among the Lowestoft
children made the task lighter than otherwise it would have been.
'Happy, happy years were those I spent with you,' she wrote to Mr.
Cunningham, 'and entirely preparatory they have been for my work and
calling.' She managed to impress upon her dusky little pupils that it
was necessary to wash more than once or twice a week, and that they
must keep quiet during school and service.
One day while her husband was preaching he referred to idols, and
quoted the Psalm, 'They have mouths, and speak not.' No sooner had he
said this than Mrs. Hinderer's boys burst into loud laughter, and
shouted, in their own language, 'True, very true.'
Soon after their temporary church--a large shed covered with palm
leaves--had been completed and opened there came a period of trial.
Mrs. Hinderer's horse stumbled and fell upon her, and although no bones
were broken she found later that she had received an injury which
troubled her until her death. No sooner had she recovered from the
shaking she had received, than her husband had a bad attack of fever.
It was believed that he would die, but she nursed him day and night,
and eventually had the great joy of seeing him recover. But soon she
was seriously ill. Inflammation of the lungs set in, and for a time
her life seemed to be drawing to a close, but she recovered, and was
before long once more at work among the women and children.
It was about this time that Mrs. Hinderer wrote to her Lowestoft
friends:--'You will not think me egotistical, but this I do think, if I
am come to Africa for nothing else, I have found the way to a few
children's hearts, and, if spared, I think I shall not, with God's
blessing, find it very difficult to do something with them. My boys
that I have now would never tell me an untruth, or touch a cowry or
anything they should not. This is truly wonderful in heathen boys,
brought up all their lives, hitherto, in the midst of every kind of
deceit.'
After a stay at Abeokuta for the benefit of her health, Anna Hinderer
returned to Ibadan, to find the new church and mission-house finished.
The natives had taken great interest in the building of the
mission-house, and, soon after the Hinderers' return, the head chief,
accompanied by his wives and a host of attendants, came to see it.
They received a cordial welcome, but so many people swarmed into the
house that Mr. Hinderer began to fear it would collapse, and had to
keep out scores who wished to enter. The chief found much to amuse him
in this European-furnished house, and was immensely amused when for the
first time he saw himself in a looking-glass. His wives were shown
round by Mrs. Hinderer, and arriving at the bed-room they pointed to a
washstand and asked its use. For reply Mrs. Hinderer poured out some
water and washed her hands. Now the chief's wives had never before
seen soap, and to dry their hands after washing was a proceeding of
which they had never heard; therefore each became anxious to there and
then wash their hands in European fashion. Water was splashed about
the floor and wall, and when they wiped their hands the indigo dye from
their clothes ruined the towel.
Anna Hinderer, although frequently in bad health, continued her work
among the children with unabated enthusiasm, and in November, 1885, she
had the joy of seeing eight of them baptized. Two months later the
state of her health made it imperative that she should proceed to Lagos
for a rest. Her husband accompanied her, but both were eager to get
back to their work, and were absent for only a few weeks. But during
that short time much had happened at Ibadan. The natives had begun to
persecute the converts, and some had forbidden their children to attend
the church or mission-school.
One girl who refused to give up attending church was shamefully
treated. A rope was tied round her body, and she was dragged through
the streets while the mob beat her with sticks and stoned her. As she
lay bleeding and half dead the native idols were brought out and placed
before her. 'Now she bows down,' the mob cried; but the girl answered.
'No, I do not; you have put me here. I can never bow down to gods of
wood and stone who cannot hear me.' Eventually, after suffering
ill-treatment daily, she ran away to Abeokuta.
For the next seven months Anna Hinderer continued without ceasing to
teach the children, nurse those who were sick, and adopt any little
girl-baby who had been deserted by her inhuman parents. Then Mr.
Hinderer, after six months' illness, was stricken with yellow fever,
and it became imperative that he should go to England for his health's
sake. On August 1, 1856, Mr. and Mrs. Hinderer sailed from Lagos for
home. And yet Anna Hinderer did not feel as if she were going home,
but that she were leaving it, for Ibadan was beloved by her. Husband
and wife were in bad health throughout the voyage, and the captain's
parting words to the latter as she went ashore at England were:--'You
must not come to sea again; it cannot be your duty. A few more voyages
must kill you.' Nevertheless, two years later, Anna Hinderer and her
husband, restored in health, were back at Ibadan.
Two years of hard work followed. The school was filled, the natives
had ceased from persecuting the converts, and the prospects of
missionary work were brighter than ever, when suddenly the news came
that the fiendish King of Dahomey was marching on Abeokuta. Mr. and
Mrs. Hinderer were at Abeokuta when the news arrived, and at once they
hastened back to Ibadan, although there was a danger of being captured
and tortured by the invading force. They reached Ibadan in safety,
only, however, to find that the chief of that place was at war with the
chief of Ijaye, a neighbouring town. The place was full of excitement
and a human sacrifice was offered, the victim, prior to the ceremony,
walking proudly through the town.
Anna Hinderer and her husband could at first have made their way to the
coast, but they decided to remain with their converts and pupils. It
was a bitter war, and soon the Hinderers were cut off from all
communication with their fellow-missionaries in the Yoruba country.
Supplies ran short, and they were compelled to sell their personal
belongings to obtain food for themselves and the children. 'We sold a
counterpane and a few yards of damask which had been overlooked by us;'
runs an entry in Anna Hinderer's diary, 'so that we indulge every now
and then in one hundred cowries' worth of meat (about one pennyworth),
and such a morsel seems a little feast to us in these days.' Many of
the native women were exceedingly kind to Anna Hinderer in the time of
privation. The woman who had supplied them with milk insisted upon
sending it regularly, although told that they had no money to pay for
it.
For four years the Hinderers were almost entirely cut off from
communication with the outer world, but they continued their labours
unceasingly throughout this trying time. The girls' sewing class had,
however, to be discontinued, for the very good reason that their stock
of needles and cotton was exhausted. It was a time of great privation,
but Anna Hinderer, although frequently compelled to endure the gnawing
pangs of hunger, always managed to keep her native children supplied
with food.
At last relief came. The Governor of Lagos had made one or two
unsuccessful attempts to relieve the Hinderers, and in April, 1865,
devised a means of escape. He despatched Captain Maxwell with a few
trustworthy men, to cut a new track through the bush.
It was a difficult undertaking, but successfully accomplished, and one
night, about ten o'clock, the Hinderers were surprised to see Captain
Maxwell enter the mission-house. He brought with him supplies, and
also a hammock for Mrs. Hinderer's use on the return journey.
It was somewhat of a surprise to the gallant officer to find that the
missionaries for whom he had performed a difficult and dangerous
journey were by no means anxious to return with him. It was the more
surprising as it was plain that both were in very bad health. Mr.
Hinderer declared that he could not possibly leave his mission at seven
hours' notice, but he joined the captain in urging his wife to go,
assuring her that it was her duty to do so. At last she was prevailed
upon to avail herself of the means of escape. She was overcome with
grief at leaving her husband shut up in Ibadan, and her distress was
increased by her inability to say 'good-bye' to the little native
children to whom she had acted a mother's part. They were asleep, and
to have awakened them would have been unwise, for there would certainly
have been loud crying, had the little ones been told that their "white
mother" was leaving them. Their crying would have been heard beyond
the mission-house compound, and the news of Mrs. Hinderer's approaching
departure would have spread through the town, in which there were
probably spies of the enemy.
Seven hours after Captain Maxwell arrived he began his dangerous return
journey, his men carrying Mrs. Hinderer in the hammock. They proceeded
by forced marches, keeping at the same time a sharp look-out for the
enemy, who would, they knew, promptly kill any Christian who fell into
their power. On several occasions they suddenly found themselves so
close to the enemy that they could hear their voices, but, fortunately,
they were not discovered. On the third day, however, they heard that
their departure had become known to the enemy, who was in hot pursuit.
It was a terribly anxious time for the invalid missionary, but Captain
Maxwell and his men were determined that she should not be captured.
Silently and without halting once, even for food, they hurried on hour
after hour, and finally arrived at Lagos, having done a six days'
journey in less than three and a half. So carefully had Captain
Maxwell's men carried Anna Hinderer that she was little the worse for
the journey, and after a few days' rest sailed for England. Two months
later her husband followed.
In the autumn of the following year Anna Hinderer and her husband
returned to Ibadan, where they were received joyfully. Anna Hinderer
resumed her work with all her former enthusiasm and love, although she
found before long that she had not sufficient strength to do all that
she had done formerly.
Two years later the chiefs of the neighbouring tribes decided to expel
all white men from their territory, and they urged the Ibadan chiefs to
adopt a similar policy. The only white people in Ibadan were the
missionaries, and these they refused to expel. Announcing their
decision to the Hinderers, the chiefs said: 'We have let you do your
work, and we have done ours, but you little know how closely we have
watched you. Your ways please us. We have not only looked at your
mouths but at your hands, and we have no complaint to lay against you.
Just go on with your work with a quiet mind; you are our friends, and
we are yours.'
Another two years of hard work followed. The schools were flourishing,
and among the pupils were children of the little ones whom, many years
previously, Anna Hinderer had taken into her home and cared for. The
chiefs continued to be friendly, and only one thing was wanting to make
Anna Hinderer perfectly happy. Frequent attacks of fever had so
weakened her that she began to feel that the work was beyond her
strength. Her husband, too, was never free from pain. They recognised
that they could not live much longer in Africa. Gladly they would have
remained and died at Ibadan, but for the knowledge that their work
could now be better carried on by younger missionaries. So with a sad
heart Anna Hinderer bade farewell to the people among whom she had
bravely toiled for seventeen years. She had lost the sight of one eye,
and the specialist whom she consulted in London assured her that had
she remained much longer in Africa she would have become totally blind.
Although in a very weak state of health Anna Hinderer was not content
to remain idle, and in her native county of Norfolk began to interest
herself in factory girls and other children of the poor. She was
always cheerful, and few people knew how much she was suffering from
the effects of years of hard work and privation in a pestilential
country. She died on June 6, 1870, aged forty-three; and when the sad
news reached Ibadan there was great sorrow in the town, and the
Christian Church which she had helped to plant there forwarded to her
husband a letter of consolation and thankfulness for the work which she
had done among them.
ANN JUDSON, PIONEER WOMAN IN BURMA
Ann Judson was not only the first American woman to enter the foreign
mission field, but also the first lady missionary, or missionary's
wife, to visit Rangoon. She was the daughter of Mr. John Hasseltine,
of Bradford, Massachusetts, and was born on December 22, 1789. When
nearly seventeen years of age she became deeply impressed by the
preaching of a local minister, and decided to do all in her power
towards spreading the Gospel. Sunday Schools had been started in
America about 1791, but they were very few. Bradford did not possess
one, and probably it was not known there that such schools existed
anywhere. Ann Hasseltine, being desirous of instructing the children
in religious knowledge, adopted the only course which occurred to her
as likely to lead to success; she became a teacher in an ordinary day
school.
When she had been engaged in this and other Christian work about four
years, she made the acquaintance of Adoniram Judson, a young man who
had recently been accepted for work in the East Indies, by the newly
formed American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. Before
they had known each other many months, Judson asked Ann Hasseltine to
become his wife and accompany him to India. He did not conceal from
her that in all probability her life as a missionary's wife would be
full of hardships and trials, but, after considering the matter for
some days, she promised to marry him, providing that her father gave
his consent. Judson wrote to Mr. Hasseltine, and after stating that he
had asked his daughter to become his wife, and that she had consented,
continued: 'I have now to ask whether you can consent to part with your
daughter early next spring, to see her no more in this world; whether
you can consent to her departure for a heathen land, and her subjection
to the hardships and sufferings of a missionary life; whether you can
consent to her exposure to the dangers of the ocean; to the fatal
influence of the southern climate of India; to every kind of want and
distress; to degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps a violent
death. Can you consent to all this for the sake of Him who left His
heavenly home and died for her and for you; for the sake of perishing
immortal souls; for the sake of Zion and the glory of God? Can you
consent to all this, in the hope of soon meeting your daughter in the
world of glory, with a crown of righteousness brightened by the
acclamation of praise which shall redound to her Saviour from heathens
saved, through her means, from eternal woe and despair?'
Mr. Hasseltine gave his consent, and on February 5, 1812, his daughter
was married to Adoniram Judson. It had now become known throughout the
United States that Mrs. Judson intended to accompany her husband to the
mission field, and in all quarters her intention was denounced. She
was accused of being both imprudent and lacking in modesty. These
attacks caused Ann Judson considerable pain, but they did not weaken
her determination to accompany her husband. They sailed for India on
February 12, and landed at Calcutta on June 18. On the voyage they had
for fellow passengers some Baptist missionaries, and the result of
their intercourse with them was that ten days after their arrival at
Calcutta they were baptised. By this step they lost the support of the
Board of Commissioners who had sent them out, but aid was soon sent
them by the American Baptists.
Missionary work in India was almost at a standstill when the Judsons
arrived at Calcutta. The East India Company had issued an order,
withdrawn, however, in the following year, forbidding missionaries to
carry on their work in the Company's territory. The Judsons received
notice to depart before they had been in the country many months, and
were undecided where to go. They were anxious to settle in Rangoon,
but everyone assured them that Lower Burma was not yet ripe for
missionary work. The Burmese were described to them as little better
than fiends, and stories were told of Europeans who had met with
torture and death at their hands.
Nevertheless, the Judsons sailed for Rangoon, and in July, 1813, were
ascending the Rangoon River, delighted with their first glimpse of the
country. On either side of the mighty river was dense jungle,
extending far inland. Here and there along the banks were small
fishing villages, with quaint little wooden huts built on tall poles to
prevent their being flooded or invaded by tigers, cheetahs or snakes.
Near every village were several pagodas whose spires rose above the
jungle; and there were many pagodas standing far from any habitation.
As the Judsons drew near to Rangoon they saw on the hill, near by, the
great Shway Dagon Pagoda with its tall, gilded spire shining in the sun
with a brilliancy that was dazzling. But soon they turned from gazing
at the Mecca of the Burmese Buddhists to view the town, a big
collection of bamboo and mat huts protected by forts with guns, which
the people fondly believed would utterly destroy any foreign fleet
which dared to ascend the river. Many trading vessels were riding at
anchor off the city, and canoes of various sizes and design were
passing to and from them. It was a busy scene, made bright by the
gorgeous turbans of the rowers, and the brilliant attire of high
officials.
Mr. and Mrs. Judson landed at Rangoon not only unmolested, but with a
friendly greeting from the natives. These swarmed round them smiling
pleasantly, and exhibiting none of the appearances of
atrocity-perpetrators. The women were greatly interested in Mrs.
Judson, and when she smiled at them they laughed merrily. This
unexpectedly pleasant reception greatly cheered the Judsons, and made
them eager to begin work. But before they could do this they had to
learn the Burmese language, not a word of which they knew. They could
not obtain an interpreter, for the reason that no one, with the
exception of a few merchants, understood English. The European
merchants who at that time lived in Burma were, with scarcely an
exception, men of poor character. A missionary was the last person
these men would welcome or help.
Having settled down in their home, Mr. and Mrs. Judson began to learn
the Burmese language, a difficult task, considering that they had
neither dictionary nor grammar to assist them. Mrs. Judson, having to
buy food and superintend her servants, soon learnt a few Burmese
sentences, but her husband was learning the language scientifically,
with the intention of eventually translating the Bible into Burmese.
When both knew sufficient Burmese to make themselves understood, they
engaged teachers to help them with their studies.
Two years passed, and Mr. and Mrs. Judson were still learning the
language. In September, 1815, a son was born to them, but to their
great grief he died eight months later, through want of medical
attention. When the child was buried, some forty Burmese and
Portuguese followed the body to the grave.
In December, 1815, Mr. and Mrs. Judson began to make known to the
people the Gospel they had come to Burma to preach. Until then they
had wisely refrained from doing so, knowing that mistakes they might
make in their speech would bring ridicule upon their religion. But now
that they were confident of their knowledge of the language they
started hopefully on the work of winning converts.
The time to which they had long looked forward had arrived, but the
success which they had expected was not achieved. The natives listened
attentively to everything Mr. or Mrs. Judson said to them, but their
answer was usually, 'Our religion is good for us, yours for you.' Some
laughed, good-humouredly, at the idea of the missionaries expecting
them to give up the religion of their forefathers for that of the white
_kalas_[1] from across the sea, and others declared that they were mad.
No one, however, suggested that they should be forbidden to attempt to
gain converts. It did not seem worth while interfering with them; for
what Burman living in sight of the Shway Dagon Pagoda, and near to the
monasteries where he had learnt the precepts of Guatama Buddha, would
even think of forsaking his religion?
This indifference of the Burmese was very disheartening to the Judsons,
and when a year had passed without their having made the slightest
impression upon any native they might well have been discouraged. But
this was far from being the case, and in October, 1816, they were able
to look forward with still greater confidence to seeing their labour
crowned with success. The printing press which they had long been
expecting arrived, and two Burmese tracts which Mr. Judson had prepared
were printed and circulated. One was a clear explanation of
Christianity, the other a translation of the Gospel according to
Matthew. The result of the wide distribution of these tracts was not
such as the Judsons had expected. One or two Burmans made a few
enquiries concerning the subject of the tracts, but when their
curiosity was satisfied they showed no further interest in the matter.
Three years of steady hard work followed. Mrs. Judson continued her
efforts to win the women, and gathered around her every Sunday a large
number to whom she read the Scriptures. Her husband had in the
meanwhile finished his dictionary of the Burmese language, a work for
which successive generations of British officials, merchants and
missionaries have had cause to be thankful, and in 1819 began to preach
on Sundays. Hitherto he had been speaking to individuals; now he
addressed himself to crowds.
The place in which he preached was a _zayat_ or rest-house, a big
one-room building erected for the convenience of pilgrims who came to
worship at the Shway Dagon Pagoda. There was no furniture in the
place, and the pilgrims, or any one else who cared to enter, squatted
on the floor, or, if tired, lay down and slept. Here, before a crowd
of men, women, and children, all, from the old men of seventy to
children of three or four, smoking big green cheroots, Mr. Judson
preached Sunday after Sunday, and on April 30, 1819, made his first
convert. Two months later, on June 27, the convert was baptized.
The Judsons, refreshed by the knowledge that their six years' toil in a
sweltering, unhealthy country had not been wasted, continued their work
joyfully, and soon had further cause for thankfulness. Several natives
were baptized, and the Judsons had every reason for believing that
their little band of Christians would increase rapidly.
Then their work received an unexpected check. The news reached Rangoon
that the King of Burma was highly displeased at the conversion of his
subjects, and intended to punish both missionaries and converts. No
sooner was this known than the Judsons were deserted by all but their
converts; the people who had flocked to hear Mr. Judson preach in the
_zayat_ no longer went there, and the women ceased to attend Mrs.
Judson's gatherings.
Mr. Judson suspected that the threats emanated from the Governor of
Rangoon, and not from the king, and, therefore, he started off,
accompanied by a young missionary who had recently joined him, to the
capital, to ask the king to prohibit any interference with them or
their converts. His majesty not only received them graciously, but
promised, if Mr. Judson would come with his wife and settle in the
capital, to give them his protection and a piece of ground on which to
build a church.