LIFE IN RANGOON.
1813-1819.
Mr. and Mrs. Judson, as has already been stated, arrived in Rangoon June
13, 1813. For almost a year and a half since leaving their native land,
they had been seeking a home on heathen shores. Having reached Calcutta,
they had been forced by the oppressive policy of the East India Company
to take refuge upon the Isle of France. They returned again to India and
landed at Madras. But they were compelled to flee a second time, and
having reluctantly relinquished the strong protection of the British
flag, had, at last, settled down in Rangoon, the chief seaport of the
Burman Empire. Their own desires and hopes had pointed elsewhere; and it
was “with wandering steps and slow” that they had come to this
destination. God had drawn around them the relentless toils of His
providence, and had hemmed them in to this one opening. But subsequent
history has proved that the hand which led them so strangely and
sternly, was the hand that never errs. American Christians, in their
assault upon Asiatic heathenism, could never have chosen such a
strategic position as Rangoon. It is situated near the mouth of the
great Irrawaddy River, which is thus described by an English officer:
“After draining the great plain of upper Burmah, it enters a narrow
valley lying between the spurs of the Arracan and Pegu ranges, and
extending below the city of Prome. Thus the mighty stream rolls on
through the widening bay, until about ninety miles from the sea, it
bifurcates; one branch flows to the westward and forms the Bassein
River, while the main channel of the lower part of the Delta
subdivides and finally enters the sea by ten mouths. It is navigable
for river steamers for 840 miles from the sea, but it is during the
rainy season (Monsoon) that it is seen in its full grandeur. The
stream then rises forty feet above its summer level, and flooding the
banks presents in some places, as far as the eye can reach, a
boundless expanse of turbid waters, the main channel of which rushes
along with a velocity of five miles an hour.”
The two natural outlets for the commerce of Western China are this great
river, and the Yang-tse-kiang, which takes its rise in Thibet, and
following an easterly course of nearly three thousand miles, empties
itself into the Yellow Sea. Along this channel a vast tide of commerce
has flowed from time immemorial, and depositing upon the river-banks its
rich sediment of wealth and population, has occasioned the growth of
Shanghai, Nanking, and other enormous cities. But the merchandise of
Western and Central China would find a shorter and easier and cheaper
path to the sea through the valley of the Irrawaddy, and would long ago
have pursued that course, had it not been impeded and endangered by rude
mountain tribes which the Governments of Burmah and of China have not as
yet been vigorous enough to reduce to harmlessness. As civilization
advances, a much larger part of the trade of Central Asia will be sure
to find its way to the sea through the valley of the Irrawaddy.
Christianity always enters the heart of a nation along the lines of
trade; so that Rangoon, near the mouth of the Irrawaddy, where Mr. and
Mrs. Judson landed, and Bhamo, situated at the head of navigation, 840
miles up the river, where the American Baptists have recently planted a
mission, are two of the most important strategical points for the
conquest of all Asia.[20]
Rangoon is described by an English traveller who passed through it about
the time of the arrival of the Judsons, as
“A miserable, dirty town, containing 8,000 or 10,000 inhabitants, the
houses being built with bamboo and teak planks, with thatched
roofs—almost without drainage, and intersected by muddy creeks,
through which the tide flowed at high water. It had altogether a mean,
uninviting appearance, but it was the city of government of an
extensive province ruled over by a viceroy, a woongee of the empire,
in high favor at the court.”
Some of the first impressions which the country made on the Judsons may
be learned from their journals and letters.
_Mrs. Judson’s Journal._
“_September 20._ This is the first Sabbath that we have united in
commemorating the dying love of Christ at His table. Though but two in
number, we feel the command as binding, and the privilege as great, as
if there were more, and we have indeed found it refreshing to our
souls.
“_December 11._ To-day, for the first time, I have visited the wife of
the viceroy. I was introduced to her by a French lady, who has
frequently visited her. When we first arrived at the Government house
she was not up; consequently we had to wait some time. But the
inferior wives of the viceroy diverted us much by their curiosity in
minutely examining everything we had on, and by trying on our gloves,
bonnets, etc. At last her highness made her appearance, dressed richly
in the Burman fashion, with a long silver pipe at her mouth, smoking.
At her appearance, all the other wives took their seats at a
respectful distance, and sat in a crouching posture, without speaking.
She received me very politely, took me by the hand, seated me upon a
mat, and herself by me. She excused herself for not coming in sooner,
saying she was unwell. One of the women brought her a bunch of
flowers, of which she took several, and ornamented her cap. She was
very inquisitive whether I had a husband and children; whether I was
my husband’s first wife—meaning by this, whether I was the highest
among them, supposing that my husband, like the Burmans, had many
wives; and whether I intended tarrying long in the country. When the
viceroy came in, I really trembled, for I never before beheld such a
savage-looking creature. His long robe and enormous spear not a little
increased my dread. He spoke to me, however, very condescendingly, and
asked if I would drink some rum or wine. When I arose to go, her
highness again took my hand, told me she was happy to see me; that I
must come to see her every day, for I was like a sister to her. She
led me to the door, and I made my _salaam_, and departed. My only
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 get access to the viceroy. One can
obtain almost any favor from her by making a small present. We intend
to have as little to do with Government people as possible, as our
usefulness will probably be among the common people. Mr. Judson lately
visited the viceroy, when he scarcely deigned to look at him, as
English _men_ are no uncommon sight in this country; but an English
female is quite a curiosity.”
_Mr. Judson to the Rev. Mr. Emerson._,
“RANGOON, _January_ 7, 1814.
“It is nearly a year since I wrote to America, my last being forwarded
by brother Rice. I have had no opportunity of conveyance since that
time, nor have I any at present. I intend to send this to England,
hoping that on its arrival the war may have terminated, or that it may
find a conveyance in a dispatch vessel. We have been here about six
months; have been living in the mission-house, with brother F. Carey’s
family, but expect within a few days to take a house within the walls
of the town on account of the bands of robbers which infest all the
country, and which have lately been very numerous and daring. Our
situation is much more comfortable than we expected it would be in
such a country. We enjoy good health, and though deprived of all
congenial Christian society, we are very happy in each other, and
think we frequently enjoy His presence whose smile can turn the
darkest night to day, and whose favor is the fountain of all
happiness. ‘Peace I leave with you—my peace I give unto you.’ There
has yet been but very little effected in this country to any real
missionary purpose. Brother Carey’s time is greatly occupied in
Government matters. The emperor has given him a title, and requires
him to reside in the capital. He is just now going to Bengal on his
majesty’s business, and expects, after his return, to reside at Ava.
Not a single Burman has yet been brought to a knowledge of the truth,
or even to serious inquiry. In all the affairs of this Government,
despotism and rapine are the order of the day. The present viceroy of
this province is a savage man. Life and death depend on his nod. He is
very large in stature, and when he stalks about with his long spear,
everybody shrinks from before him. I called on him once, but he
scarcely looked at me. Ann waited on her highness, and was much better
received. This man is about to be recalled to Ava, and it is doubtful
whether he will return. During the interim we expect all things will
be in confusion, and this is one reason why we desire to get within
the walls of the city.
“My only object at present is to prosecute, in a still, quiet manner,
the study of the language, trusting that for all the future ‘God will
provide.’ We have this consolation, that it was the evident
dispensation of God which brought us to this country; and still
further, that if the world was all before us, where to choose our
place of rest, we should not desire to leave Burmah. Our chief anxiety
is that brother Rice may not be able to join us again; but even this
we desire to leave in His hands who doeth all things well.”
_From Mrs. Judson to the Rev. Samuel Newell._
“RANGOON, _April_ 23, 1814.
“MY DEAR BROTHER NEWELL:
“A few days since we received yours of December 18th, the only one we
have ever received since you left us at Port Louis. It brought fresh
to my mind a recollection of scenes formerly enjoyed in our dear
native country. Well do I remember our first interesting conversations
on missions and on the probable events which awaited us in India. Well
do I remember the dear parental habitation where you were pleased to
favor me with your confidence relative to a companion for life. And
well do I remember the time when I first carried your message to the
mother of our dear Harriet, when the excellent woman exclaimed with
tears in her eyes, ‘I dare not, I can not speak against it.’ Those
were happy days. Newell and Judson, Harriet and Nancy, then were
united in the strictest friendship, then anticipated spending their
lives together in sharing the trials and toils, the pleasures and
enjoyments, of a missionary life. But, alas! behold us now! In the
Isle of France, solitary and alone, lies all that was once visible of
the lovely Harriet. A melancholy wanderer on the Isle of Ceylon is our
brother Newell, and the savage, heathen empire of Burmah is destined
to be the future residence of Judson and Nancy. But is this separation
to be forever? Shall we four never again enjoy social, happy
intercourse? No, my dear brother, our separation is of short duration.
There is a rest—a peaceful, happy rest, where Jesus reigns, where we
four soon shall meet to part no more. Forgive my gloomy feelings, or
rather forgive my communicating them to you, whose memory, no doubt,
is ever ready to furnish more than enough for your peace.
“As Mr. Judson will not have time to write you by this opportunity, I
will endeavor to give you some idea of our situation here, and of our
plans and prospects. We have found the country, as we expected, in a
most deplorable state, full of darkness, idolatry, and cruelty—full of
commotion and uncertainty. We daily feel that the existence and
perpetuity of this mission, still in an infant state, depend in a
peculiar manner on the interposing hand of Providence; and from this
impression alone we are encouraged still to remain. As it respects our
temporal privations, use has made them familiar, and easy to be borne;
they are of short duration, and when brought in competition with the
worth of immortal souls, sink into nothing. We have no society, no
dear Christian friends, and with the exception of two or three sea
captains, who now and then call on us, we never see a European face.
But then, we are still happy in each other; still find that our own
home is our best, our dearest friend. When we feel a disposition to
sigh for the enjoyments of our native country, we turn our eyes on the
miserable objects around. We behold some of them laboring hard for a
scanty subsistence, oppressed by an avaricious Government, which is
ever ready to seize what industry had hardly earned; we behold others
sick and diseased, daily begging the few grains of rice which, when
obtained, are scarcely sufficient to protract their wretched
existence, and with no other habitation to screen them from the
burning sun, or chilly rains, than what a small piece of cloth raised
on four bamboos under a tree can afford. While we behold these scenes,
we feel that we have all the comforts, and, in comparison, even the
luxuries, of life. We feel that our temporal cup of blessings is full,
and runneth over. But is our temporal lot so much superior to theirs?
Oh, how infinitely superior our spiritual blessings! While they vainly
imagine to purchase promotion in another state of existence by
strictly worshipping their idols and building pagodas, our hopes of
future happiness are fixed on the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin
of the world. When we have a realizing sense of these things, my dear
brother, we forget our native country and former enjoyments, feel
contented and happy with our lot, with but one wish remaining—that of
being instrumental in leading these Burmans to partake of the same
source of happiness with ourselves.
“Respecting our plans, we have at present but one—that of applying
ourselves closely to the acquirement of the language, and to have as
little to do with Government as possible. Brother Carey has never yet
preached in Burman, but has made considerable progress toward the
completion of a grammar and dictionary, which are a great help to us.
At present, however, his time is entirely taken up with Government
affairs. It is now almost a year since he was ordered up to Ava, which
time has been wholly occupied in the king’s business. He has just
returned from Bengal, and is now making preparations for Ava, where he
expects to found a new mission station. His family go with him;
consequently we shall be alone until the arrival of brother Rice, who,
we hope, will arrive in six or seven months.
“Our progress in the language is slow, as it is peculiarly hard of
acquisition. We can, however, read, write, and converse with tolerable
ease, and frequently spend whole evenings very pleasantly in
conversing with our Burman friends. We have been very fortunate in
procuring good teachers. Mr. Judson’s teacher is a very learned man,
was formerly a priest, and resided at court. He has a thorough
knowledge of the grammatical construction of the language, likewise of
the Pali, the learned language of the Burmans.”
It may be well to consider for a moment the _task_ which the young
missionary had set before him. What did they propose to do, this man of
twenty-five and his young wife, standing amid the level rice fields on
the coast of Lower Burmah, with their faces turned landward toward towns
and cities swarming with idolaters, and hill-tops crowned with heathen
temples and pagodas? Their purpose was to undermine an ancient religion,
deeply fixed in the hearts and habits of four hundred millions of human
beings. They did not propose to bring to bear influences by which
Christianity was to be introduced as a State religion and reluctant
knees be forced to bow to the Christ. This would have been indeed an
audacious undertaking. But they sought to work out a more searching
revolution, nothing less than a change of belief and of heart in each
individual. The millions of Burmans were to be taken one by one—their
affections subdued, and their characters transfigured by the religion of
Christ. They felt sure that in the mass of people about them, there was
here and there a man who had been so schooled by the providences of God,
and so matured by the Divine Spirit, that if the story of the Cross
could once be got to him, he would immediately accept it and say, “That
is just what I want.” As the sod of moss, brought from the woods into
the house, often contains within its bosom hidden germs, and after a
season, in the warmth of the parlor, sends forth sweet, unexpected
spring flowers, so out of the unattractive sod of heathenism, under the
genial rays of the Holy Spirit, might emerge disciples of Christ, and
these disciples, organized by baptism into churches, would, by the same
process of reaching individual souls, little by little leaven the whole
of the empire.
But what _means_ did Mr. Judson use in his endeavor to bring about this
great moral and spiritual revolution? Simply the Gospel of Christ. The
sole weapons of his warfare were the old-fashioned truths, the existence
of a personal and beneficent God, the fatal sinfulness of man, and
salvation by faith in the Son of God, who came to “seek and to save that
which was lost.” No system of truth could be devised more diametrically
opposed to Buddhism, which teaches that there is no God to save, no soul
to be saved, and no sin to be saved from. He felt sure that if he could
only plant the seeds of Christian truth in the soil of the Burman’s
heart, then, under the mellowing influence of the Holy Spirit, they
would germinate and bring forth the fruit of meek and pure behavior. As
in flushing a drain, a large body of pure water is poured through the
whole length of it, washing out every impurity, so the Gospel of Christ
is a cleansing tide, which, as it courses through the individual heart,
or through human society, sweeps away before it all the stagnant and
loathsome accumulations of sin.
Mr. Judson did not believe that Christianity should follow in the wake
of civilization. He did not propose to spend his time in teaching the
arts and sciences of the Western world, in imparting more correct
astronomical, geographical, and geological conceptions, in order, little
by little, to prepare the mind of the Burman to accept his religious
ideas. He had implicit confidence in the promise of his Master, “Lo, I
am with you alway.” He believed that Christ was with him in the heart of
the heathen, unlocking the door from the inside.
Again, he did not say to himself, “It is a hopeless task to attempt the
conversion of the hoary heads. I will try to gather the little children
together and establish schools, and thus purify the fountains of
national life.” He had his schools, indeed, but they were quite
subordinate to the work of preaching the Gospel to the adult mind. He
reached the children through the parents, and not the parents through
the children. He believed that the grown-up Burmans, rather than their
children, should bear the brunt of persecution involved in embracing a
new religion. He followed the method of the Acts of the Apostles. A
preacher of the Gospel, he did not allow himself to shrivel into a mere
school-teacher or a school-book maker.
There were only two channels through which the truths of the Gospel
could be conveyed to the conscience of the Burman—the eyes and the ears.
The natives were emphatically a reading people. They had their ancient
scriptures embodying the teachings of Gaudama, and the first question
asked of the propagator of a new religion would be, “Where are your
sacred books?” So that one way in which Mr. Judson communicated the
Gospel was by the translation of tracts—either succinct and concrete
statements of Christian truth, or portions of the Bible. These were not
scattered about like autumn leaves, but were given discriminatingly to
individuals, the gift often being accompanied by a solemn injunction to
read, followed by a fervent prayer. The following letter to the Rev. Dr.
Baldwin shows how earnestly he engaged in this work of imparting
Christian truth in a printed form:
“RANGOON, _February_ 10, 1817.
“Have just heard that a person whom we have some time calculated on as
a letter-carrier to Bengal is unexpectedly going off in the course of
an hour. Have, therefore, time only to accompany the enclosed tracts
with a line or two.
“We have just begun to circulate these publications, and are praying
that they may produce some inquiry among the natives. And here comes a
man, this moment, to talk about religion. What shall I do? I will give
him a tract, to keep him occupied a few moments while I finish this.
‘Here, my friend, sit down, and read something that will carry you to
heaven if you believe and receive the glorious Saviour therein
exhibited.’
“We are just entering on a small edition of Matthew, the translation
of which I lately commenced. But we are in great want of men and
money. Our hands are full from morning till night. I can not, for my
life, translate as fast as brother Hough will print. He has to do all
the hard work in the printing-office, without a single assistant, and
can not, therefore, apply himself to the study of the language, as is
desirable. As for me, I have not an hour to converse with the natives,
or go out and make proclamation of the glorious Gospel. In regard to
money, we have drawn more from Bengal than has been remitted from
America; so that now, if not for their truly brotherly kindness in
honoring our bills on credit, we should actually starve. Moreover, an
edition of five thousand of the New Testament will cost us nearly five
thousand dollars. And what are five thousand among a population of
seventeen millions, five millions of whom can read? O that all the
members of the Baptist Convention could live in Rangoon one month!
Will the Christian world ever awake? Will means ever be used adequate
to the necessities of the heathen world? O Lord, send help! Our
waiting eyes are unto Thee!”
It is a noteworthy fact that the attention of the first serious Burman
inquirer was caught by two little writings that fell into his hands, a
tract and a catechism. The British and Foreign Bible Society publish a
statement, made upon the authority of Sir Bartle Frere, that he met
“with an instance which was carefully investigated, in which all the
inhabitants of a remote village in the Deccan had abjured idolatry and
caste, removed from their temples the idols which had been worshipped
there time out of mind, and agreed to profess a form of Christianity
which they had deduced for themselves from the careful perusal of a
single Gospel and a few tracts.” And the eminent African missionary,
Moffat, related that when he was almost perishing for want of food, he
was succored by an old negro woman whose spiritual life had been fed for
years from a little copy of the Dutch New Testament. She drew it from
her bosom and said: “This is the fountain whence I drink; this is the
oil which makes my lamp to burn.”
But far more important than the work of translating and distributing
tracts, catechisms, and portions of the Scripture, was the oral
preaching of the Gospel. For this Mr. Judson had rare aptitude, and in
it he won his most signal triumphs. While engaged in the necessary work
of translation, he was always pining for the opportunity of imparting
the message of salvation with the living voice. In a letter to Dr.
Bolles he says: “I long to see the whole New Testament complete, for I
will then be able to devote all my time to preaching the Gospel from day
to day; and often now the latter appears to be the more pressing duty.
May the Spirit of the Lord be poured out!” When eye meets eye, and the
mind of an objector is confronted by a living, loving personality, he
receives a deeper impression of religious truth than he can ever get
even from the leisurely perusal of a printed book. The press can never
supplant the pulpit. The truth, which, when pressed home by the earnest
voice of the speaker, carries with it conviction, and arouses the
conscience, and kindles the affections, is often weak and thin when
presented on the printed page.
But Mr. Judson’s preaching was unlike that of the orator about whom a
great throng gathers. After the little chapel, or _zayat_, was built,
public worship indeed was held, the audience consisting of perhaps a
hundred persons. But most of the preaching at first was to the
individual. It was a process of spiritual button-holing. A single person
would enter into a discussion with the missionary, while a few others
would draw near to witness the encounter. It was in these hand-to-hand
frays that Mr. Judson often extorted exclamations of admiration from the
bystanders, as with his keen logic he hewed his opponent to pieces as
Samuel did Agag.
His preaching was concrete. He did not deal in vague abstractions. Truth
assumed, in his mind, statuesque forms. His conversation abounded in
images and illustrations; and in this respect he resembled the great
Teacher, whom England’s poet laureate thus describes:
“For wisdom dealt with mortal powers,
Where truth in closest words shall fail,
When truth embodied in a tale
Shall enter in at lowly doors.”
Mrs. E. C. Judson contributes a reminiscence of his vivid method of
imparting religious truth:
“A native Christian woman told me that she was at one time about to
engage in something which Dr. Judson considered not conducive to her
spiritual good. He sent for her, and remonstrated; but she would not
give up her darling project. ‘Look here!’ said he, eagerly snatching a
ruler from the table, and tracing not a very straight line on the
floor, ‘_here_ is where you have been walking. You have made a crooked
track, to be sure—out of the path half of the time; but then you have
kept near it, and not taken to new roads, and you have—not so much as
you might have done, mind, but still to a certain extent—grown in
grace; and now, with all this growth upon your heart and head, in the
maturity of your years, with ripened understanding and an every-day
deepening sense of the goodness of God, here,’ bringing down the ruler
with emphasis to indicate a certain position, ‘_here you stand_. You
know where this path leads. You know what is before you—some
struggles, some sorrows, and finally eternal life and a crown of
glory. But to the left branches off another very pleasant road, and
along the air floats, rather temptingly, a pretty bubble. You do not
mean to leave the path you have walked in fifteen years—fifteen long
years—altogether; you only want to step aside and catch the bubble,
and think you will come back again; but _you never will_. Woman,
think! Dare you deliberately leave this strait and narrow path, drawn
by the Saviour’s finger, and go away for one moment into that of your
enemy? Will you? _will you_? WILL YOU?’
“‘I was sobbing so,’ said the woman, ‘that I could not speak a word;
but he knew, as he always did, what I meant; for he knelt down, and
prayed that God would preserve me in my determination. I have made a
great many crooked tracks since,’ she added, tearfully, ‘but, whenever
I am unusually tempted, I see the teacher as he looked that day,
bending over in his chair, the ruler placed on the floor to represent
me, his finger pointing along the path of eternal life, his eye
looking so strangely over his shoulder, and that terrible “Will you?”
coming from his lips as though it was the voice of God; and I pray
just as Peter did, for I am frightened.’”
Behind his words, when he preached, lay the magnet of a great character.
He was a man of tender sensibilities and of strong affections. There was
no mistaking his motives. He had come a long distance and endured great
hardships because he loved the Burmans. Little by little they found this
out; and the power of a preacher is in direct ratio with his capacity
for inspiring confidence and affection. Not the truth on the lips, but
the truth incarnated in the behavior, has weight. One who often heard
him preach in Burmese, though she was at that time only slightly
acquainted with the language, writes:
“He preached with great fervor and earnestness; but besides this,
there was a touching simplicity in the matter and language, which it
was long before I could appreciate. His figures, which I understood
sooner, were drawn from immediately surrounding objects. Of these, in
accordance with Eastern taste, he made great use. He often remarked
that Christ was the model preacher, and that He never preached great
sermons.”
A missionary thus describes the impression which he received from
hearing Mr. Judson the first time:
“True, he preached in Burman; but though I did not know the meaning of
a single sentence he uttered, still my attention was never more
closely riveted in any sermon I have ever heard. Were I to fix upon
any characteristic of the preacher which, perhaps more than any other,
rendered his discourse interesting and impressive, I should say it was
_earnestness of manner_. It was impossible for any one to escape the
conviction that his whole soul was in the work. Every tone, every
look, every gesture spoke out in most emphatic language to tell us
that the man was in earnest to make us believe the truths that he
uttered. But what contributed not a little to the interest of the
occasion was the appearance of the assembly. Every hearer sat
motionless, every eye was immovably fixed upon the preacher, and every
countenance seemed to change with every varied expression of
sentiment; now beaming forth joy, as though some joyous news from the
other world had just reached them, which before had never gladdened
their hearts—now depicting a feeling of anxiety as though their mortal
all, or that of their friends, were at stake; and next, of deep
solemnity, as though standing before their final judge!”
Having considered the stupendous _task_ set before the young missionary,
and the _methods_ he used, let us look at some of the _difficulties_.
His ardent temperament flung itself against the hard reef of Burman
_conservatism_. Oriental slowness to accept a new idea proved a strong
obstacle at the outset. He writes:
“The Burmans are a slow, wary, circumspect race; but their pertinacity
in maintaining an opinion deliberately adopted, will bear, I imagine,
due proportion to their tardiness in adopting it. This trait in their
character will render missionary operations among them less rapid in
the outset, but more effective and permanent in the issue.”
Another great difficulty at the beginning was _learning the language_
without grammar, or dictionary, or an English-speaking teacher. How hard
a task this was, may be learned from his letters.
_To the Rev. Dr. Bolles._
“RANGOON, _January_ 16, 1816.
“Yours of March, 1815, I lately received, and read with real
satisfaction. Neither brother Rice nor any of the others you mention
have yet been heard of in these parts. May they not be far distant.
Whenever they shall arrive, I hope to be of some real service to them
in their preparatory studies, and to be able to give them, in a short
time, information on many points which it has cost me months to
acquire. I just now begin to see my way forward in this language, and
hope that two or three years more will make it somewhat familiar; but
I have met with difficulties that I had no idea of before I entered on
the work. For a European or American to acquire a _living_ Oriental
language, root and branch, and make it his own, is quite a different
thing from his acquiring a cognate language of the West, or any of the
dead languages, as they are studied in the schools. One circumstance
may serve to illustrate this. I once had occasion to devote about two
months to the study of the French. I have now been above two years
engaged on the Burman; but if I were to choose between a Burman and
French book to be examined in, without previous study, I should,
without the least hesitation, choose the French. When we take up a
Western language, the similarity of the characters, in very many
terms, in many modes of expression, and in the general structure of
sentences, its being in fair print (a circumstance we hardly think
of), and the assistance of grammars, dictionaries, and instructors,
render the work comparatively easy. But when we take up a language
spoken by a people on the other side of the earth, whose very thoughts
run in channels diverse from ours, and whose modes of expression are
consequently all new and uncouth; when we find the letters and words
all totally destitute of the least resemblance to any language we had
ever met with, and these words not fairly divided and distinguished,
as in Western writing, by breaks, and points, and capitals, but run
together in one continuous line, a sentence or paragraph seeming to
the eye but one long word; when, instead of clear characters on paper,
we find only obscure scratches on dried palm leaves strung together
and called a book; when we have no dictionary, and no interpreter to
explain a single word, and must get something of the language before
we can avail ourselves of the assistance of a native teacher,—
‘Hoc opus, hic labor est.’
“I had hoped, before I came here, that it would not be my lot to have
to go on alone, without any guide in an unexplored path, especially as
missionaries had been here before. But Mr. Chater had left the
country, and Mr. Carey was with me but very little, before he left the
mission and the missionary work altogether.
“I long to write something more interesting and encouraging to the
friends of the mission; but it must not yet be expected. It
unavoidably takes several years to acquire such a language, in order
to converse and write intelligibly on the great truths of the Gospel.
Dr. Carey once told me, that after he had been some years in Bengal,
and thought he was doing very well in conversing and preaching to the
natives, they (as he was afterward convinced) knew not what he was
about. A young missionary who expects to pick up the language in a
year or two will probably find that he has not counted the cost. If he
should be so fortunate as to find a good interpreter, he may be useful
by that means. But he will find, especially if he is in a new place,
where the way is not prepared, and no previous ideas communicated,
that to qualify himself to communicate divine truth intelligibly by
his own voice or pen, is not the work of a year. However,
notwithstanding my present incompetency, I am beginning to translate
the New Testament, being extremely anxious to get some parts of
Scripture, at least, into an intelligible shape, if for no other
purpose than to read, as occasion offers, to the Burmans I meet with.
“My paper allows me to add nothing more but to beg your prayers, that
while I am much occupied in words and phrases, and destitute of those
Gospel privileges you so richly enjoy, in the midst of your dear
church and people, I may not lose the life of religion in my soul.”
_To the Rev. Dr. Staughton._
“I am sometimes a little dispirited, when I reflect that, for
two or three years past, I have been drilling at A, B, C, and
grammar. But I consider again that the gift of tongues is
not granted in these times; that some one must acquire this
language by dint of application; must translate the Scriptures,
and must preach the Gospel to the people in their own
tongue, or how can they be saved? My views of the missionary
object are, indeed, different from what they were,
when I was first set on fire by Buchanan’s ‘Star in the East,’
six years ago. But it does not always happen that a closer
acquaintance with an object diminishes our attachment and
preference. We sometimes discover beauties, as well as deformities,
which were overlooked on a superficial view; when
some attractions lose their force, others more permanent are
exerted; and when the glitter in which novelty invested the
object has passed away, more substantial excellencies have
room to disclose their influence; and so it has been with me,
I hope, in regard to the work of missions.”
The following extract from the _Calcutta Review_ of December, 1850, will
show how completely he mastered this difficult language:
“Let our readers dwell for a moment upon the difficulty, in their own
powerful Saxon tongue, of discoursing upon free will, predestination,
and many other such subjects, and then endeavor to realize to
themselves how infinitely more difficult the attempt must be in a
language of monosyllabic formation and structure; its very
polysyllables being the roughest possible mosaic of monosyllables, and
the genius and construction of the tongue such, that even the simple
language of the Gospels—the sentences of which are in general so
remarkably plain and free from complication—is beyond its flexibility,
the simplest sentences in the Gospels of Mark or John having to be
chopped up and decomposed, in order to adapt them to this peculiar
language. Let our readers imagine, if they can, the wonderful command
requisite of so awkward an instrument, in order to be enabled to
answer an Oo Yan—‘How are sin and eternal misery reconcilable with the
character of an infinitely holy, wise, and powerful God?’ or to meet
the subtleties of a Moung Shwa-gnong, arguing on his fundamental
doctrine, that divine wisdom, not concentrated in any existing spirit,
or embodied in any form, but diffused throughout the universe, and
partaken in different degrees by various intelligences, and in a very
high degree by the Buddhs, is the true and only God. Yet so completely
was Judson master of this very difficult tongue, and of the modes of
thought of its people, that he could, by his replies and arguments,
impart to an Oo Yan intense satisfaction, and a joy which exhibited
itself by the ebullitions natural to a susceptible temperament; and,
in the end, could force a subtle Moung Shwa-gnong to yield to the
skill of a foreign disputant.”
But the chief hindrance to preaching the Gospel to the Burmans was the
_danger of persecution_. Mr. Judson found himself in the dominions of a
monarch upon whose slightest nod depended the life of each subject.
Every convert knew that in adopting this new religion he was
encountering the risk of confiscation of property, imprisonment,
torture, or death in its most shocking form.
But in spite of these great difficulties, and even in the face of the
fact that many of his brethren and sisters in his own, distant, native
land regarded the undertaking as hopeless, and looked upon him as an
obstinate and chimerical fanatic, he never for a moment lost hope. He
felt as sure that Burmah would be converted to Christ as that it
existed. He was buoyed up by the same faith that caused him to answer
many years after, when he was asked whether he thought the prospects
bright for the speedy conversion of the heathen, “As bright as the
promises of God.” And in the darkest period of the history of our
missions, he sounded the bugle-call, which will inspire the heart of the
Christian missionary until that day when “The kingdoms of this world are
become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ.”
_To the Rev. Luther Rice._
“RANGOON, _August_ 3, 1816.
“I have completed a grammar of the Burman language, which I hope will
be useful to you; also a tract, which I hope to get printed as soon as
Mr. Hough arrives.
“If any ask what success I meet with among the natives, tell them to
look at Otaheite, where the missionaries labored nearly twenty years,
and, not meeting with the slightest success, began to be neglected by
all the Christian world, and the very name of Otaheite began to be a
shame to the cause of missions; and now the blessing begins to come.
Tell them to look at Bengal also, where Dr. Thomas had been laboring
seventeen years (that is, from 1783 to 1800) before the first convert,
Krishna, was baptized. When a few converts are once made, things move
on; but it requires a much longer time than I have been here to make a
first impression on a heathen people. If they ask again, What prospect
of ultimate success is there? tell them, As much as that there is an
almighty and faithful God, who will perform His promises, and no more.
If this does not satisfy them, beg them to let me stay and try it, and
to let you come, and to give us our _bread_; or, if they are unwilling
to risk their bread on such a forlorn hope as has nothing but the WORD
OF GOD to sustain it, beg of them, at least, not to prevent others
from giving us bread; and, if we live some twenty or thirty years,
they may hear from us again.
“This climate is good—better than in any other part of the East. But
it is a most filthy, wretched place. Missionaries must not calculate
on the least comfort, but what they find in one another and their
work. However, if a ship was lying in the river, ready to convey me to
any part of the world I should choose, and that, too, with the entire
approbation of all my Christian friends, I would prefer dying to
embarking. This is an immense field, and, since the Serampore
missionaries have left it, it is wholly thrown on the hands of the
American Baptists. If we desert it, the blood of the Burmans will be
required of us.”
Upon arriving in Rangoon, of course there was nothing for Mr. and Mrs.
Judson to do but to learn the Burmese language.
“As it respects ourselves,” Mrs. Judson writes, “we are busily
employed all day long. I can assure you that we find much pleasure in
our employment. Could you look into a large, open room, which we call
a veranda, you would see Mr. Judson bent over his table, covered with
Burman books, with his teacher at his side, a venerable-looking man in
his sixtieth year, with a cloth wrapped round his middle, and a
handkerchief round his head. They talk and chatter all day long, with
hardly any cessation.
“My mornings are busily employed in giving directions to the servants,
providing food for the family, etc. At ten my teacher comes, when,
were you present, you might see me in an inner room, at one side of my
study-table, and my teacher the other, reading Burman, writing,
talking, etc. I have many more interruptions than Mr. Judson, as I
have the entire management of the family. This I took upon myself for
the sake of Mr. Judson’s attending more closely to the study of the
language; yet I have found, by a year’s experience, that it was the
most direct way I could have taken to acquire the language, as I am
frequently obliged to speak Burman all day. I can talk and understand
others better than Mr. Judson, though he knows more about the nature
and construction of the language.”
After a few months Mr. and Mrs. Judson removed from the English Baptist
mission-house into the city proper. The mission-house which they had
been occupying was situated half a mile from Rangoon, near the place of
public execution, where the refuse of the city streets was thrown, and
not far from the place where the dead were buried. While outside the
city walls, the missionaries were exposed to robbers and to wild beasts.
It was thought best, therefore, to move into the city itself, especially
as in this way they would be brought into closer contact with the
people.
After they had been in Rangoon about a year and a half, Mrs. Judson’s
health began to break down under the effects of the climate. They had no
physician to consult, and her symptoms proving dangerous, she was
obliged to sail to Madras to secure both medical advice and the
recuperation of a sea voyage. She set sail on January 25, 1815, and
after an absence of nearly three months, returned with her health much
improved. This first experience of long separation was very painful. Mr.
Judson writes:
“There is not an individual in the country that I can pray with, and
not a single soul with whom I can have the least religious communion.
I keep myself as busy as possible all day long, from sunrise till late
in the evening, in reading Burman, and conversing with the natives. I
have been here a year and a half, and so extremely difficult is the
language—perhaps the most difficult to a foreigner of any on the face
of the earth next to the Chinese—that I find myself very inadequate to
communicate divine truth intelligibly. I have, in some instances, been
so happy as to secure the attention, and in some degree to interest
the feelings, of those who heard me; but I am not acquainted with a
single instance in which any permanent impression has been produced.
No Burman has, I believe, ever felt the grace of God; and what can a
solitary, feeble individual or two expect to be the means of effecting
in such a land as this, amid the triumphs of Satan, the darkness of
death? The Lord is all-powerful, wise, and good; and this
consideration alone always affords me unfailing consolation and
support.”
In a letter to her parents, sisters, and brother, Mrs. Judson gave the
following description of the voyage to Madras and her return to Rangoon:
“I embarked for Madras to procure medical assistance, and hoping a
change of air would conduce to the restoration of my health. I was
obliged to leave Mr. Judson here alone, without a single associate to
animate him in his arduous work. We did not think it his duty for him
to leave the mission if I could possibly go alone. But though I was
separated from him, and felt for the first time in my life that I was
entirely alone in this wide world, yet I could not but trace the kind
dealings of God in inclining every one with whom I had any concern to
favor and assist me in my way. The viceroy gave me an order to take a
woman with me, free from expense, a thing which is generally attended
with great difficulty, owing to the Burman law which forbids any
female to leave the country. We went to him ourselves with a small
present, which is customary when a favor is asked. On his seeing it,
he inquired if we had any business; and on Mr. Judson’s presenting the
petition, he immediately commanded his writer to give us an official
order, without causing us any expense whatever. The captain with whom
I went refused any pay for my passage, though he provided every
necessary for one in ill health. I stayed at Madras six weeks, and
resided at Mr. Loveless’ house, where I received every attention. When
about to leave Madras, I sent the physician under whose care I had
been, seventy rupees, which he immediately returned, saying he was
happy if he had been serviceable to me. After an absence of three
months I safely arrived at Rangoon, where I found Mr. Judson well, and
laboring hard, though entirely alone. My health continued to mend, and
on the 11th of September I was made the happy mother of a little son.
I had no physician or assistant whatever excepting Mr. Judson. Since
the birth of our little son my health has been much better than for
two years before. I feel now almost in a new state of existence. Our
hands are full, and though our prospects in regard to the immediate
conversion of the Burmans are dark, yet our trust in God is strong,
and our hopes animating.”
The little boy to whom Mrs. Judson alludes in this letter was born
September 11, 1815, and named Roger Williams, but on May 4, 1816, he
closed his brief life on earth, at the age of seven months and
twenty-three days.
In a letter dated Rangoon, May 7, 1816, Mr. Judson conveys the sad
intelligence to the Rev. Mr. Lawson, missionary at Serampore:
“Our little comfort, our dear little Roger, has become insensible to
our parental attentions and fond caresses; the light of his mild blue
eyes is quenched, his sweet face has become cold to our lips, and his
little mind, which, to a parent’s discernment at least, discovered
peculiar sensibility and peculiar sweetness of disposition, has
deserted its infantile tenement and fled—oh, where? Into what strange
scenes is it introduced? Who supports and guides its trembling steps
across the dark valley? There a parent’s aid could not be extended.
But we hope it had a more affectionate and abler guide. We hope that
Jesus has repaired the ruins of the fall in regard to all little
children. And who but thinks their departed children sweet and lovely
beyond compare? Perhaps I am a novice in affliction. Had I lost a
wife, I might not thus lament for a little child eight months old. Yet
nothing but such a scene of bereavement and anguish as we have passed
through can teach us to pity others in like circumstances. Nothing but
experience can teach us what feelings agonize the soul of a parent
when he puts his face to that of his dear, his only child, to
ascertain whether there may not be one breath more; and when satisfied
of the truth, when hope expires with life, he tries to raise the
bursting aspiration: O Lord, receive the spirit!
“Our little Roger died last Saturday morning. We looked at him through
the day, and on the approach of night we laid him in the grave. This
is the fourth day, and we just begin to think, What can we do for the
heathen? But yet it seems hard to forget little Roger so soon, to
force off our thoughts from the attractive, painful subject, and to
return to our usual employments. O may we not suffer in vain! May this
bereavement be sanctified to our souls! and for this I hope we have
your prayers.
“How is Mrs. Lawson, and your little _ones_? We had only _one_. Might
not this have been spared? It was almost all our comfort and our
amusement in this dreary place. But, ‘the Lord gave,’ etc.”
At this same period Mrs. Judson thus opened her sorrowful heart to a
lady in Beverly, Mass.:
“RANGOON, _May_ 10, 1816.
“The sun of another holy Sabbath has arisen upon us, and though no
chime of bells has called us to the house of God, yet we, two in
number, have bowed the knee to our Father in heaven, have invoked His
holy name, have offered Him our feeble praise, have meditated on His
Sacred Word, and commemorated the dying love of a Saviour to a
perishing world. Inestimable privileges! Not denied even in a land
where the Prince of Darkness reigns!
“Since worship I have stolen away to a much-loved spot, where I love
to sit and pay the tribute of affection to my lost darling child. It
is a little enclosure of mango-trees, in the centre of which is
erected a small bamboo-house on a rising spot of ground, which looks
down on the new-made grave of an infant boy. Here I now sit; and
though all nature around wears a most romantic, delightful appearance,
yet my heart is sad, and my tears frequently stop my pen. You, my dear
Mrs. Lovett, who are a mother, may _guess_ my feelings; but if you
have never lost a first-born, an only son, you can not _know_ my pain.
Had you even buried your little boy, you are in a Christian country,
surrounded by friends and relatives who could soothe your anguish and
direct your attention to other objects. But behold us solitary and
alone, with this one single source of recreation! Yet even this is
denied us; this must be removed, to show us that we need no other
source of enjoyment but God himself! Do not think, though I thus
write, that I repine at the dealings of Providence, or would wish them
to be otherwise than they are. No; ‘though He slay me, I will trust in
Him,’ is the language I would adopt. Though I say with the prophet,
‘Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow,’ yet I
would also say with him, ‘It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not
consumed, because His compassions fail not.’”
While engaged in the hard task of learning the Burman language, Mr.
Judson caught eagerly at every opportunity of imparting Christian truth.
We give his record of a conversation with his teacher:
“_September 30, 1815._ Had the following conversation with my teacher,
as nearly as I can recollect it. This man has been with me about three
months, and is the most sensible, learned, and candid man that I have
ever found among the Burmans. He is forty-seven years of age, and his
name is Oo Oungmen. I began by saying, Mr. J—— is dead. _Oo._ I have
heard so. _J._ His soul is lost, I think. _Oo._ Why so? _J._ He was
not a disciple of Christ. _Oo._ How do you know that? You could not
see his soul. _J._ How do you know whether the root of that mango-tree
is good? You can not see it; but you can judge by the fruit on its
branches. Thus I know that Mr. J. was not a disciple of Christ,
because his words and actions were not such as indicate a disciple.
_Oo._ And so all who are not disciples of Christ are lost? _J._ Yes,
all, whether Burmans or foreigners. _Oo._ This is hard. _J._ Yes, it
is hard indeed; otherwise I should not have come all this way, and
left parents and all, to tell you of Christ. He seemed to feel the
force of this, and after stopping a little he said, How is it that the
disciples of Christ are so fortunate above all men? _J._ Are not all
men sinners, and deserving of punishment in a future state? _Oo._ Yes,
all must suffer in some future state for the sins they commit. The
punishment follows the crime as surely as the wheel of the cart
follows the footsteps of the ox. _J._ Now, according to the Burman
system, there is no escape. According to the Christian system, there
is. Jesus Christ has died in the place of sinners—has borne their
sins; and now those who believe on Him, and become His disciples, are
released from the punishment they deserve. At death, they are received
into heaven, and are happy forever. _Oo._ That I will never believe.
My mind is very stiff on this one point, namely, that all existence
involves in itself principles of misery and destruction. The whole
universe is only destruction and reproduction. It therefore becomes a
wise man to raise his desires above all things that exist, and aspire
to _nigban_, the state where there is no existence. _J._ Teacher,
there are two evil futurities, and one good. A miserable future
existence is evil, and annihilation, or nigban, is an evil, a fearful
evil. A happy future existence is alone good. _Oo._ I admit that is
best, if it could be perpetual; but it can not be. Whatever is, is
liable to change, and misery, and destruction. Nigban is the only
permanent good, and that good has been attained by Gaudama, the last
deity. _J._ If there be no eternal being, you can not account for
anything. Whence this world, and all that we see? _Oo._ Fate. _J._
Fate! The cause must always be equal to the effect. See, I raise this
table. See also that ant under it Suppose I were invisible, would a
wise man say the ant raised it? Now, fate is not even an ant. Fate is
a word; that is all. It is not an agent; not a thing. What is fate?
_Oo._ The fate of creatures is the influence which their good or bad
deeds have on their future existence. _J._ If influence be exerted,
there must be an exerter. If there be a determination, there must be a
determiner. _Oo._ No, there is no determiner. There can not be an
eternal being. _J._ Consider this point. It is a main point of true
wisdom. Whenever there is an execution of a purpose, there must be an
agent. _Oo._ (After a little thought.) I must say that my mind is very
decided and hard, and unless you tell me something more to the
purpose, I shall never believe. _J._ Well, teacher, I wish you to
believe, not for my profit, but for yours. I daily pray the true God
to give you light that you may believe. Whether you will ever believe
in this world, I do not know; but when you die, I know you will
believe what I now say. You will then appear before the God that you
now deny. _Oo._ I don’t know that. _J._ I have heard that one Burman,
many years ago, embraced the Portuguese religion, and that he was your
relation. _Oo._ He was a brother of my grandfather. _J._ At Ava, or
here? _Oo._ At Ava he became a Portuguese; afterwards went to a ship
country with a ship-priest, and returned to Ava. _J._ I have heard he
was put to death for his religion. _Oo._ No, he was imprisoned and
tortured by order of the emperor. At last he escaped from their hands,
fled to Rangoon, and afterwards to Bengal, where they say he died.
_J._ Did any of his family join him? _Oo._ None; all forsook him; and
he wandered about, despised and rejected by all. _J._ Do you think
that he was a decided Christian, and had got a new mind? _Oo._ I think
so; for when he was tortured hard, he held out. _J._ Did he ever talk
with you about religion? _Oo._ Yes. _J._ Why did you not listen to
him? _Oo._ I did not listen. _J._ Did you ever know any other Burman
that changed his own for a foreign religion? _Oo._ I have heard that
there is one now in Rangoon, who became a Portuguese; but he keeps
himself concealed, and I have never seen him.”
After almost three years of the closest application to study, Mr. Judson
was taken ill. He wrote to Dr. Baldwin:
“I began to enter into my studies with such pleasure and spirit, and
to make such rapid progress, as encouraged me to hope that the time
was not far distant when I should be able to commence missionary
operations. I was going forward in a course of most valuable Burman
reading, and, at the same time, had begun to translate one of the
Gospels, and to write a ‘View of the Christian Religion’ in Burman,
which, in imagination, were already finished and circulating among the
natives, when, all of a sudden, in the midst of the hot season, which
in this country is most severe during the months of March and April, I
was seized with a distressing weakness and pain in my eyes and head,
which put a stop to all my delightful pursuits, and reduced me to a
pitiable state indeed. Since that time, excepting at some intervals, I
have been unable to read, or write, or make any exertion whatever.
Sometimes I have almost given up the hope that I should ever be of any
more service; sometimes I have been on the point of trying a short
voyage at sea. But, thanks be to God, it is now ten days since I have
experienced a turn of severe pain, though I still feel great weakness
in my head, and, indeed, throughout my whole nervous system. I begin
now to hope that I shall gradually recover, though I fear I never
shall be as I formerly was.”
He improved even the hours of his illness by collecting what knowledge
he had acquired of the language and “putting it together in the shape of
a grammar that it might not be wholly lost to others.” Fearing that his
own life might soon come to a close, he determined to _blaze_ the trees
through this hitherto untrodden wilderness of the Burmese language, by
preparing a grammar. On July 13, 1816, exactly three years to a day
after his arrival, he completed a work with the modest title,
“Grammatical Notices of the Burman Language.” It was printed twenty
years afterward; and although it was the result of a study of only three
years, of one of the most difficult Oriental languages, and was written
to relieve the tedium of a sick-bed, yet its merits were such as to
command the following notice in the _Calcutta Review_:
“He (Dr. Judson) published another work, a grammar of no pretensions,
and of very small dimensions, yet a manual which indicated the genius
of the man, perhaps, more strikingly than anything else, except his
Bible. He has managed, from a thorough knowledge of the language, to
condense into a few short pages (only seventy-six) a most complete
grammar of this difficult tongue; and, as the student grows in
knowledge, _pari passu_, this little volume rises in his estimation;
for its lucid, comprehensive conciseness becomes more and more
manifest. In our limited acquaintance with languages, whether of the
East or West, we have seen no work in any tongue which we should
compare with it for brevity and completeness; yet we have, in our day,
had to study and wade through some long and some would-be short
grammars.”
Partially recovering from his illness, Mr. Judson completed, on July 30,
1816, his first tract, entitled “A View of the Christian Religion, in
three parts, Historic, Didactic, and Preceptive.”[21]
The next step was to multiply this tract and speed it on its way among
the Burmans. A press and Burman types had already arrived—a valuable
present from the English Baptist brethren of Serampore. A missionary
printer, the Rev. Geo. H. Hough, and his wife, were already on their way
from America. Mr. Rice was still arousing the Baptists in the United
States to send on reinforcements of men and money.
Mr. Judson wrote again and again appealing for help.
“We know not the designs of God in regard to this country; but I can
not but have raised expectations. It is true we may have to labor and
wait many years before the blessing comes. But we see what God is
doing in other heathen lands, after trying the faith and sincerity of
His servants some fifteen or twenty years. Look at Otaheite, Bengal,
Africa. And is Burmah to remain a solitary instance of the inefficacy
of prayer, of the forgetfulness of a merciful and faithful God? Is it
nothing that an attempt is begun to be made; that, in one instance,
the language is considerably acquired; that a tract is ready for
publication, which is intelligible and perspicuous, and will give the
Burmans their _first ideas_ of a Saviour and the way of salvation;
that a press and types have now arrived, and a printer is on the way;
that a grammar is finished, to facilitate the studies of others, and a
dictionary of the language is in a very forward state; and that the
way is now prepared, as soon as health permits, to proceed slowly in
the translation of the New Testament? Is it nothing that, just at this
time, the monarch of the country has taken a violent hate to the
priests of his own religion, and is endeavoring, with all his power,
to extirpate the whole order, at the same time professing to be an
inquirer after the true religion? Is all this to be set down a mere
cipher? It is true that we may desire much more. But let us use what
we have, and God will give us more. However, men and money must be
forthcoming. Work can not be done without men, and men can not work
without bread; nor can we expect the ravens to feed them in ordinary
cases. I do not say several hundred missionaries are needed here.
This, though true, would be idle talk. My request I think modest. Five
men, allowing two or three to each of the stations, is the smallest
number that will possibly answer.
. . . . . . . . . . .
“Permit me to close with a word in behalf of Eastern missions. Great
Britain and the United States appear to be the only countries which
can at present take a very active part in missionary concerns. The
British are fully occupied with India, Africa, and the South Sea
Islands. East of the British possessions in India are Burmah, Siam,
several other Indo-Chinese nations, the great empire of China, Japan,
thence north indefinitely, and southward the numerous Malayan Isles.
With all these countries the British are no more connected than the
Americans. The British are under no greater obligations to evangelize
them than the Americans. They are no nearer the English, in point of
transportation, than the Americans. And furthermore, throughout all
these countries the British are suspected and feared; but not the
Americans.
“The idea that the western continent belongs to the Americans, and the
eastern continent to the British, however plausible at first sight,
can not bear a moment’s examination. I apprehend that all the
northwestern Indians, and the inhabitants of those parts of South
America which are accessible, will scarcely outnumber the inhabitants
of this single empire of Burmah. And on what principle can the
Americans, who are perhaps half as numerous as the British, be let off
with one-twentieth or one-thirtieth part of the work? But when we
apply the case to the Baptists, it is still more decisive. There are
about five hundred Baptist churches in Great Britain, which average
one hundred members each. There are two thousand in America, which
average about the same. Behold Ireland, also, almost as destitute as
South America. And suppose the British should say, This is the proper
province of our missionary exertions; let us leave Asia and Africa to
the Americans, and ‘not send our young men to the antipodes.’”
But while asking for men, he wanted the right kind. They must be well
qualified.
“RANGOON, _November 14, 1816_.
“In encouraging other young men to come out as missionaries, do use
the greatest caution. One wrong-headed, conscientiously-obstinate
fellow would ruin us. Humble, quiet, persevering men; men of sound,
sterling talents (though, perhaps, not brilliant), of decent
accomplishments, and some natural aptitude to acquire a language; men
of an amiable, yielding temper, willing to take the lowest place, to
be the least of all and the servants of all; men who enjoy much closet
religion, who live near to God, and are willing to suffer all things
for Christ’s sake, without being proud of it, these are the men, etc.
But O, how unlike to this description is the writer of it.”...
Again he wrote:
“In regard to the education necessary for missionaries, it appears to
me that whatever of mental improvement, or of literary and scientific
attainment, is desirable in a minister at home, is desirable in a
missionary. I think I could illustrate this in a variety of
particulars; but the limits of a letter do not allow. I feel, however,
more and more, the inadequacy and comparative insignificance of all
human accomplishments, whether in a minister or a missionary, and the
unspeakable, overwhelming importance of spiritual graces—humility,
patience, meekness, love—the habitual enjoyment of closet religion, a
soul abstracted from this world, and much occupied in the
contemplation of heavenly glories. Here I can not help digressing from
the subject to myself. You know not, my dear sir, you can not
conceive, how utterly unfit I am for the work in which I am engaged. I
am, indeed, a worm, and no man. It is a wonder that I am allowed to
live as a missionary among the heathen, and receive an undeserved
support from the dear people of God—from many who are poor in this
world, but rich in faith. Yet I feel necessity laid on me to remain
here, and try to do a little something.”
The reinforcements at last arrived. On October 15, 1816, the Rev. Mr.
Hough and family landed at Rangoon, and the following joint letter was
signed by Mr. Judson and Mr. Hough to Dr. Staughton, the Corresponding
Secretary of the missionary society in America, to which these
missionaries looked for support:
“RANGOON, _November_ 7, 1816.
“It is with peculiar satisfaction that we are, at length, able to
address a letter to the Board, in our joint capacity. We had a joyful
meeting in this place the 15th ult. Mr. Hough has settled in one part
of the mission-house; and we are now united, both as a church of
Christ and as a mission society. Our regulations on the latter point
we here submit to the Board. It will be evident, at first sight, that
these regulations have a prospective view, and are framed somewhat
differently from what they would have been had we not expected that
our society would soon be enlarged. But we hope that the time is not
far distant when they will receive the signature of brother Rice also.
Indeed, we hope for more than this; we hope that one or two others
will be found to accompany Mr. Rice.
“It is true that one of us remained about three years in this place
without uttering any Macedonian cries. But we apprehend that the time
is now come when it is consistent with the strictest prudence to lift
up our voice and say, Come over the ocean and help us. By a residence
of three years in this country, many doubts, which at first occurred,
are removed; and many points concerning the practicability of a
mission, and the prospect of success, are ascertained. We can not now
enter much into detail; but we desire to say that we consider the
mission established in this land. We unite in opinion that a wide door
is set open for the introduction of the religion of Jesus into this
great empire. We have at present no governmental interdict to
encounter, and no greater obstacles than such as oppose the progress
of missionaries in every heathen land. It appears to us (and may it so
appear to our fathers and brethren) that God, in removing the English
mission from this place, and substituting in their stead an American
mission, is emphatically calling on the American churches to
compassionate the poor Burmans, and to send their silver, and their
gold, and their young men to this eastern part of the world, to the
help of the Lord against the mighty.
“It is with great pleasure that we announce the valuable present of a
press and Burman types, made to us by the Serampore brethren. We are
now closing in a room for a temporary printing-office, and hope very
soon to issue a Gospel tract, which has been in readiness some time,
and which is intended to give the heathen around us some idea of the
way of salvation through the Lord Jesus. But we can not move one step
in the way of printing without money. Though favored with the press,
in the first instance, gratis, we have already expended in paper,
freight, and sundries, about four hundred rupees. We therefore beg an
immediate appropriation, not only to liquidate the expenses already
incurred, but to enable us to proceed in this all-important part of
our work. The accounts of the mission press we propose to keep
distinct; and they shall be submitted together with the accounts of
the mission.
“We know not how long the press will be permitted to remain in
Rangoon; we do not, however, deprecate its removal to Ava. Such a
measure would doubtless tend to the furtherance of the cause, and to
the introduction of religion into the very heart of the empire, where
Satan’s seat is. But in this case more men and more money would be
imperatively demanded; and we trust that the patronage of the Board
will not fail us in these necessary points. We desire humbly to repeat
to the Board what the first missionaries from the Baptist society in
England said to their friends, when on the point of embarkation in the
great work which seems destined to illumine Western India with the
light of the Gospel. ‘We are,’ said they, ‘like men going down into a
well; you stand at the top and hold the ropes. Do not let us fall.’
Hold us up, brethren and fathers; and if health and life be spared to
us, we hope, through the grace of God, to see Eastern India also
beginning to participate in the same glorious light. Many years may
intervene in the latter as well as in the former case; many
difficulties and disappointments may try your faith and ours. But let
patience have her perfect work; let us not be weary of well-doing; for
in due time we shall reap, _if we faint not_.”
The articles of agreement alluded to in this letter are as follows:
“In order more effectually, under the blessing of our Lord and Master,
to accomplish the important work for which we have come into this
heathen land, we, the undersigned, form a union on the following
principles, namely:
“1. We give ourselves to the Lord Jesus Christ and to one another by
the will of God.
“2. We agree to be kindly-affectioned one toward another with
brotherly love, in honor preferring one another; feeling that we have
one Master, even Christ, and that all we are brethren.
“3. We agree in the opinion that our sole object on earth is to
introduce the religion of Jesus Christ into the empire of Burmah; and
that the means by which we hope to effect this are, translating,
printing, and distributing the Holy Scriptures, preaching the Gospel,
circulating religious tracts, and promoting the instruction of native
children.
“4. We therefore agree to engage in no secular business for the
purpose of individual emolument; and not at all, unless, in the
opinion of the brethren, the great object of the mission can be best
promoted thereby.
“5. We agree to relinquish all private right to remittances from
America, avails of labor, and compensation for service; in a word, to
place all money and property, from whatever quarter accruing, in the
mission fund; provided, that nothing in this article be construed to
affect our private right to inheritances, or personal favors, not made
in compensation of service.
“6. We agree that all the members of the mission family have claims on
the mission fund for equal support in similar circumstances; the
claims of widows and orphans not to be in the least affected by the
death of the head of their family. But it is to be understood that no
one shall have a right to adopt a child into the mission family, so as
to entitle it to the claims secured in this article, but by consent of
the brethren.
“7. We agree to educate our children with a particular reference to
the object of the mission; and if any expense be necessary or
expedient for this purpose, it shall be defrayed from the mission
fund.
“8. All appropriations from the mission fund shall be made by a
majority of the missionary brethren united in this compact; subject,
however, to the inspection of our patrons, the Board.
“A. JUDSON, JR.
“GEORGE H. HOUGH.”
Upon Mr. Hough’s arrival he immediately put the printing-press into
operation. One thousand copies of the tract above mentioned and three
thousand copies of a catechism which had just been completed by Mrs.
Judson, were struck off and put into circulation. This strange new
religion could not fail of at least catching the attention of the
inquisitive Burmans. As the fishermen attach many hooks to a long line
stretched across a river, hoping that at least a few of the many fishes
swimming past may be taken, so our missionaries, with much care and
toil, adjusted their trawl of tracts in the midst of the dense Burmese
population, and anxiously, prayerfully awaited the result.
After only a few weeks of suspense they caught the first inquirer. In a
letter to the Corresponding Secretary, dated Rangoon, March 7, 1817, Mr.
Judson writes:
“Since the beginning of this year, we have printed two tracts, the one
a view of the Christian religion, seven pages, one thousand copies;
the other a catechism of six pages, 12mo, three thousand copies. After
which, finding that we had paper sufficient for an edition of eight
hundred of Matthew, we concluded to undertake this one gospel, by way
of trial, and as introductory to a larger edition of the whole New
Testament. I am now translating the eleventh chapter, and in the
printing-room the third half-sheet is setting up. Having premised thus
much concerning the present posture of our affairs, I proceed to
mention the circumstance which induced me to take up my pen at this
time. I have this day been visited by the first inquirer after
religion that I have ever seen in Burmah. For, although in the course
of the last two years I have preached the Gospel to many, and though
some have visited me several times, and conversed on the subject of
religion, yet I have never had much reason to believe that their
visits originated in a spirit of sincere inquiry. Conversations on
religion have always been of my proposing, and, though I have
sometimes been encouraged to hope that truth had made some impression,
never, till to-day, have I met with one who was fairly entitled to the
epithet of _inquirer_.
“As I was sitting with my teacher, as usual, a Burman of respectable
appearance, and followed by a servant, came up the steps, and sat down
by me. I asked him the usual question, where he came from, to which he
gave no explicit reply, and I began to suspect that he had come from
the Government house, to enforce a trifling request which in the
morning we had declined. He soon, however, undeceived and astonished
me, by asking, ‘How long time will it take me to learn the religion of
Jesus?’ I replied that such a question could not be answered. If God
gave light and wisdom, the religion of Jesus was soon learned; but,
without God, a man might study all his life long, and make no
proficiency. ‘But how,’ continued I, ‘came you to know anything of
Jesus? Have you ever been here before?’ ‘No.’ ‘Have you seen any
writing concerning Jesus?’ ‘I have seen two little books.’ ‘Who is
Jesus?’ ‘He is the Son of God, who, pitying creatures, came into this
world, and suffered death in their stead.’ ‘Who is God?’ ‘He is a
being without beginning or end, who is not subject to old age and
death, but always is.’ I can not tell how I felt at this moment. This
was the first acknowledgment of an eternal God that I had ever heard
from the lips of a Burman. I handed him a tract and catechism, both
which he instantly recognized, and read here and there, making
occasional remarks to his follower, such as ‘This is the true God;
this is the right way,’ etc. I now tried to tell him some things about
God and Christ, and himself, but he did not listen with much
attention, and seemed anxious only to get another book. I had already
told him two or three times that I had finished no other book, but
that in two or three months I would give him a larger one, which I was
now daily employed in translating. ‘But,’ replied he, ‘have you not a
little of that book done, which you will graciously give me now?’ And
I, beginning to think that God’s time is better than man’s, folded and
gave him the first two half-sheets, which contain the first five
chapters of Matthew, on which he instantly rose, as if his business
was all done, and, having received an invitation to come again, took
leave.
“Throughout his short stay, he appeared different from any Burmans I
have yet met with. He asked no questions about customs and manners,
with which the Burmans tease us exceedingly. He had no curiosity, and
no desire for anything, but ‘MORE OF THIS SORT OF WRITING.’ In fine,
his conduct proved that he had something on his mind, and I can not
but hope that I shall have to write about him again.