And has a perfect knowledge of all things;
When men call his name, _he hears_!"
And again
"The sons of heaven are holy,
They sit by the seat of God,
The sons of heaven are righteous,
They dwell together with God;
They lean against his silver seat."
The following stanza, says the writer above referred to, might be
mistaken for the production of David or Isaiah.
"Satan in days of old was holy,
But he transgressed God's law;
Satan of old was righteous,
But he departed from the law of God,
And God drove him away."
They say that God formerly loved their nation, but on account of their
wickedness he punished it, and made them the degraded creatures they now
are. But they say "God will again have mercy upon us, God will save us
again." One verse of one of their songs is,
"When the Karen king arrives
Everything will be happy;
When Karens have a king
Wild beasts will lose their savageness."
Professor Gammell says, in substance, that they present the
extraordinary phenomenon of a people without any form of religion or
established priesthood, yet believing in God, and in future retribution,
and cherishing and transmitting from age to age a set of traditions of
unusual purity, and containing bright predictions of future prosperity
and glory.
When Ko-thay-byu, the poor convert already mentioned, was baptized, he
naturally carried to his countrymen "the thrilling news, that a teacher
from a far distant land had come to preach a new religion, a religion
answering to the religion of their fathers." Others came to listen, and
to carry back to their secluded hamlets the joyful tidings; until "from
distant hills and remote valleys and forests, Karen inquirers flocked to
Tavoy, and thronged around _the teacher_;" listening to the new
doctrines with childlike simplicity and uncommon sensibility. Among
other singular stories that they related to the wondering "teacher,"
one was, that more than ten years before, a book in a strange tongue had
been left among them by a foreigner, who commanded them to worship it;
which command they had faithfully obeyed. Mr. Boardman felt the
strongest curiosity to see this _deified book_, but owing to the
prevalence of the rains, he was not gratified till the following
September. He was then waited on by a large deputation of Karens,
bringing with them in a covered basket, the mysterious volume, wrapped
in fold after fold of muslin; on removing which it proved to be an
Oxford edition of the Common Prayer Book in the English language! With
the greatest simplicity they asked Mr. B. if this book contained the
doctrines of the new religion, and if so, requested to be taught its
contents. Mr. B. assured them that the book was good, but should by no
means be made an object of worship; and accepting it from them, he gave
them in its stead, portions of the Scriptures, translated into a
language they could understand. They entreated him to visit them in
their own villages, assuring him of the readiness of their tribe to
welcome him, and to receive the gospel; and, struck with their
earnestness and candor, he promised at some future time to yield to
their request.
The sorcerer who had preserved the book, and prescribed to the simple
heathen the forms of its worship, threw away his cudgel, or wand of
office, and laid aside his fantastic dress; and Mr. Boardman sent the
mysterious volume to America, to be deposited in the museum of the
Baptist Missionary Society.
Who the "foreigner" may have been, that thus supplied an ignorant people
with a Divinity, or object of worship; or what were his motives in so
doing, will probably always remain a mystery.
If we have devoted considerable space to this notice of the Karens,
their subsequent history will prove that they are not unworthy of such
notice.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 8: Gammell.]
[Footnote 9: See Gammell.]
CHAPTER VII.
LETTER FROM MRS. B.--MR. B.'S VISIT TO THE KARENS IN THEIR
VILLAGES.--DEFECTION OF DISCIPLES.--ITS EFFECT ON MR. AND MRS. B.
Extract of a letter from Mrs. Boardman to a "beloved sister," dated
Tavoy, 1828.--"Nothing especial has occurred since I last wrote. We are
still in good health, and happy in our work. We are now destitute of all
religious society, and feel that our responsibilities are great
indeed.... We have to suffer many little inconveniences in this country,
but have no disposition to complain. We rejoice in the kind providence
that has directed our steps, and would not exchange our condition. Our
desire is to labor among the poor heathen until called to our eternal
home." She then, with characteristic earnestness and affection, inquires
after her sister's spiritual state. "Oh if you are a child of God, how
great is your happiness; you can think of death without fear. The
troubles and griefs of life do not distress you as they do the poor
worldling, who looks only to the enjoyments of this life for comfort. If
a Christian, you have sweet foretastes of that joy which is unspeakable
and inconceivable by mortals. Though a sinner still, you feel that your
sins are pardoned, and that through the merits of a crucified Saviour
you will at last be accepted of God. I would fondly hope, my dear
sister, that this is your happy case. But if not, oh who can tell your
dreadful danger? Who can paint the alarming prospect before you? Every
moment exposed to death, and yet without hope. Subject to
disappointments and afflictions in this world, and yet no refuge for
your anguished spirit. The weight of sins daily accumulating, and every
day less prospect of obtaining pardon. The awful prospect of eternal
banishment from all that is holy, oh my sister, reflect.... If you have
not yet turned to the Saviour, delay no longer.... Oh may you, and all
my beloved brothers and sisters, be early brought to a knowledge of the
truth. I cannot express the anxiety I feel for every one of you. I also
feel the solicitude of a tender sister for your temporal good. Write me
particulars of the health of my dear parents, grand-parents, and each of
my brothers and sisters. Though separated from you, I always wish to
share your joys and sorrows.
"Your little niece is in charming health. She sends many kisses to you
all, and I shall teach her to love you, though she cannot see you."
We have inserted this letter, which in its spirit is a specimen of all
her letters, not only for its, intrinsic excellence, but to show that
even in distant Burmah, and surrounded by cares and duties which would
have diminished in a less affectionate breast her interest in her
distant relatives,
"Her heart untravelled fondly turned to" them,
"And dragged at each remove a lengthening chain."
While laboring for the conversion of pagans, she felt more than she had
ever felt before, the awful danger of those who under the full blaze of
gospel light, choose to walk in darkness; and for her family, her dear
brothers and sisters, her burden was almost like that of the apostle who
was, as it were, willing to give up his own title to the heavenly
inheritance, if by so doing he could save his "kindred according to the
flesh."[10] All her letters which we have been privileged to see, bear
evidence of this.
In December of the year 1828, Mrs. Boardman was called to a trial which
of all others was most fitted to make her feel that every earthly
dependence is at best but a broken reed, and that
"The spider's most attenuated thread
Is cord, is cable, to our strongest hold
On earthly bliss; it breaks with every breeze."
Her almost idolized husband, her guide, her only human support,
protector, and companion, was attacked by that insidious and incurable
malady which was destined at no distant day to close his career of
usefulness on earth, and send him early to his reward. A copious
hemorrhage from the lungs warned him that his time for earthly labor was
short, and seemed to increase his desire to work while his day lasted.
As soon as his strength was sufficiently restored after his first
attack, namely, in February 1829, he resolved to fulfil his
long-cherished intention to visit the Karens in their native villages.
He took with him two Karens, two of his scholars, and a servant.
Females, who in this country of order and security, tremble at the idea
of being left for one night alone in their strong and guarded dwellings,
may perhaps conceive the feelings of Mrs. Boardman on being thus left by
her protector.--Her own health scarce re-established after a four
months' illness,--her mind agitated by fears for her stricken husband,
who under burning suns, and amid unknown wilds, exposed to the fury of
the sudden thunder-gust, and the wild beast of the jungles, must be
absent from her, perhaps, two or three dreary weeks in which time not
one "cordial, endearing report" from him, would reach her;--in her frail
hut, and with two little ones dearer to her than life, exposed to the
same dangers as herself,--what could support her in such circumstances
but her faith in that arm whose strength is shown to be "perfect, in
weakness?" A poor Karen woman, seeing her distress, tried to console
her: "Weep not, mama," she said; "the teacher has gone on an errand of
compassion to my poor perishing countrymen. They have never heard of the
true God, and the love of his Son Jesus Christ, who died upon he cross
to save sinners. They know nothing of the true religion, mama; and when
they die they cannot go to the golden country of the blessed. God will
take care of the teacher; do not weep, mama." Blessed faith in an
omnipresent Heavenly Father! It gives even the unlettered Karen
disciple, an eloquence in consolation, to which worldly philosophy is a
stranger.
Mr. Boardman's journey, though perilous from the causes above mentioned,
and tedious from being performed on foot, was highly interesting on
account of the eager welcome, and abundant hospitality of the
simple-minded Karen villagers whom he visited. On entering a village, he
and his little caravan were overwhelmed with presents of provisions and
fruits; and the inhabitants would exclaim, while their countenances
beamed with delight, "Ah, you have come _at last_; we have long wanted
to see you!" He travelled more than one hundred miles, often through
unfrequented and toilsome paths among the mountains, and was three times
drenched with powerful rains, from which he had no sufficient shelter;
but by the aid of an interpreter he preached seventeen sermons, and was
cheered by finding the readiness of the people to receive his doctrines
far exceed his most sanguine expectations. On his return, both he and
Mrs. Boardman had to experience an affliction extremely trying to the
heart of a missionary; the defection of some of the Christian converts.
Their sensitive spirits led Mr. and Mrs. B. to fear that their own
unfaithfulness might have been the cause of the fall of their disciples.
Mrs. Boardman's self-upbraidings were bitter; her humiliation deep and
sincere. "Our hearts," she says, "have bled with anguish, and mine has
sunk lower than the grave, for I have felt that my unworthiness has been
the cause of all our calamities."
So keen were her self-rebukes at this time, that they break out even in
her letters to her friends. In one of them she writes: "Some of these
poor Burmans, who are daily carried to the grave, may at last reproach
me and say, you came, it is true, to the city where we dwelt, to tell of
heaven and hell, but wasted much, much of your precious time in
indolence while learning our language. And when you were able to speak,
why were you not incessantly telling us of this day of doom, when we
visited you? Why, oh why did you ever speak of any other thing, while we
were ignorant of this most momentous of all truths? How could you think
on anything but our salvation?... You told us you knew of a Being that
heard your lowest whispers, and most secret sighs--why then, did you
not, day and night, entreat him in our behalf?" Mr. Boardman in his
journal says, "My dear wife became at this time so deeply impressed with
divine things, and particularly with a sense of her own sinfulness, that
she had no rest night or day. We both endeavored to return to the Lord
from whom we had strayed; but our path, especially that of Mrs. B. led
hard by the borders of despair.... We confessed our sins to the Lord and
to one another. We considered ourselves worthy to be trodden under foot
of men, and were astonished to think of our pride and selfishness.... We
were filled with the most distressing views of our utter sinfulness in
the sight of a holy God."
Thus was this affliction, though "grievous," beginning to work out in
her heart its "peaceable fruit of righteousness," by deepening her
humility, quickening her zeal, and leading her to a more thorough
consecration of herself to the work she had undertaken.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 10: Romans ix. 3.]
CHAPTER VIII.
DEATH OF THEIR FIRST-BORN.--LETTERS FROM MRS. B.
In the spring of 1829 Mr. Boardman and his family made a short
sea-voyage for the benefit of their health, Mrs. Boardman having
experienced another attack of illness, and their little George being
frail and puny. Indeed none of the family seemed to have been healthy
but the "plump, rosy-cheeked" first-born, the darling Sarah, her
mother's joy and pride, and--as her Heavenly Father saw--her _idol_ too!
Terrible was the stroke that shattered that lovely idol; but it came--so
faith assured her--from a father's hand. Sometime afterward she writes,
"My ever dear Sister, I think I have not written you since the death of
our beloved Sarah, which is nearly eight months ago. I have never
delayed writing to you so long before. For some time after her death,
little George was apparently near the grave, and I was confined to my
bed for a number of weeks. As soon as my health was a little improved,
the rebellion at Tavoy took place, which threw us all into confusion,
and this lasted until I was taken ill again about three months since.
From this illness I am but just recovering. So you see, my beloved
sister, my outward circumstances have been sufficient to prevent my
writing. Nor is this all--for some time after little Sarah's departure,
I was too much distressed to write; I felt assured that God had taken
her away from us in love, and was also assured, that she is a happy
angel in heaven; but oh the thought that we should see her no more on
earth, filled me with _indescribable sorrow_. By degrees my mind became
calmer; not that I forgot her, but I feel, my dear Harriet, that the
dearest and sweetest pleasures of this life are empty and altogether
unsatisfying. I do not look for comfort from these sources as I formerly
did. We have a fine, healthy boy, but I do not allow myself to idolize
him as I did his dear departed sister. In her dissolution, we saw such a
wreck of what was most lovely and beautiful, that it seems as if we
should be kept in future from 'worshipping the creature.'"
Particulars respecting the child's illness and death are given in
another letter of nearly the same date. "Our little Sarah left us July
8th of last year--aged 2 years and 8 months.... She was a singularly
lovely child. Her bright blue eyes, yellow hair, and rosy cheeks, formed
a striking contrast to the dark little faces around her.... From the
time she began to notice anything, we were the objects of her fondest
love. If she thought she had incurred our displeasure, her tender heart
seemed ready to burst; and she could not rest for a moment until she had
said she was 'sorry,' and obtained the kiss of forgiveness. She had
learned to obey us implicitly.... If either of us were ill, she would
stroke our foreheads with her little soft hand, and kiss us _so_
affectionately! Her love to her little brother George was unlimited.
From the day of his birth till the day but one before she died, he was
her idol.... Three days before she died, she was lying uneasily in a
large swing cradle, and George was in the same room crying. We thought
it might soothe the little sufferer, for he also was very ill, to lay
him down beside Sarah. The proposal delighted her; with smiles she threw
open her little arms and for the last time held her darling brother in
her fond embrace. So great was her gratification at this privilege, that
she seemed to forget her own pains.
"Little Sarah spoke English remarkably well for so young a child, and
Burmese like a native; she could also say some things in the Hindostanee
and Karen, and what seems a little singular, she never confounded two
languages, but always spoke pure English to us, and pure Burmese to
Burmans. This discrimination continued as long as she had the powers of
speech. She had learned the Lord's prayer and several little hymns. Dr.
Judson's lines on the death of Mee Shawayee she knew by heart in
Burmese, and used to chant them for half an hour at a time.... These
things may seem very trivial to you, but I muse upon them by the hour
together; and it is only when I call my cooler judgment into action,
that I can make myself believe they are uninteresting to any person on
earth. I love to think of my sweet bud of immortality expanding so
beautifully in my own presence; and fancy I can judge in some small
degree of the brilliancy of the perfect flower, from these little
developments.
"A few hours before she died, she called us to her, kissed us, and
passed her dear hand, still full and dimpled as in health, softly over
our faces. The pupils of her eyes were so dilated that she could not see
us distinctly, and once, for a moment or two, her mind seemed to be
wandering; then looking anxiously into my face, she said: 'I frightened,
mamma! I frightened!' ... Oh with what feelings did I wash and dress her
lovely form for the last time, and compose her perfect little limbs; and
then see her--the dear child that had so long lain in my bosom--borne
away to her newly-made grave. My heart grew faint when I thought that I
had performed for her my last office of love; that she would never need
a mother's hand again.
My dear husband performed the funeral service with an aching, though
not desponding heart. The grave is in our own enclosure, about fifteen
rods from the house--a beautiful retired spot, in a grove of
Gangau-trees. Near it is a little Bethel, erected for private devotion.
Thither we have often repaired; and we trust that God, who in his
infinite wisdom had taken our treasure to himself, often meets us
there."
The biographer of Mrs. Boardman--since her successor in the
mission--mentions that a single speculative error had crept into her
religious faith, on the subject of God's particular providence--that
while contemplating the vastness of that agency
"That ever busy wheels the silent spheres,"
she had almost thought it derogatory to the "Majesty of heaven and
earth" to conceive of him as occupied with our mean affairs, numbering
the hairs of our heads, and guiding the sparrow's fall. But the blow
which crushed her heart, destroyed its skepticism. She saw so clearly in
this dispensation, the hand of a Father chastening his erring child; she
felt so keenly that she deserved the rod, for having in a measure
worshipped the gift more than the giver, that she _believed_, with all
the strength of an irresistible conviction, that even so lowly a thing
as her own heart was indeed a theatre for the constant display of her
Maker's guiding and controlling power, not less than the starry
heavens; that her own sanctification, and the providential means to
effect it, even in their minutest details, were ordered by sovereign
grace and wisdom; and from this time forth she never doubted again.
But it is time to detail the spirit-stirring scenes that occurred a few
months after the death of the child; to which scenes allusion was made
in the first of her two letters.
CHAPTER IX.
REVOLT OF TAVOY.--LETTERS FROM MRS. B.
The revolt of Tavoy from the British government, and its consequences to
the missionaries and other foreigners in the city, are so well described
in a letter from Mr. Boardman to a friend in America, that we will give
it nearly entire.
"REV. AND DEAR SIR,
"The province of Tavoy has engaged in an open revolt against the
British government. On Lord's day morning, the 9th inst. at 4
o'clock, we were aroused from our quiet slumbers by the cry of
'Teacher, master, Tavoy rebels,' and ringing at all our doors and
windows. We were soon awake to our extreme danger, as we heard not
only a continual report of musketry within the town, but the balls
were frequently passing over our heads and _through our house_; and
in a few moments, a large company of Tavoyans collected near our
gate, and gave us reason to suspect they were consulting what to do
with us. We lifted our hearts to God for protection, and Mrs.
Boardman and little George were hurried away through a back door
to a retired building in the rear. I lay down in the house, (to
escape the bullets,) with a single Burman boy, to watch and
communicate the first intelligence After an hour of the greatest
anxiety and uncertainty I had the happiness of seeing the sepoys
(troops in the British service) in possession of the city gates in
front of our house. We soon ascertained that a party of about 250
men had in the first instance attacked the powder magazine and
gun-shed, which were very near our house, but a guard of sepoys had
repelled them. This was a great mercy, for had the insurgents
obtained the arms and ammunition, our situation would have been
most deplorable. A second party of 60 had attacked the house of the
principal native officer of the town, while a third party had
fallen upon the guard of the prison, and let loose all the
prisoners, one hundred in number, who, as soon as their irons were
knocked off, became the most desperate of all the insurgents." ...
The commissioner of the province was absent at Maulmain, but his
lady, Mrs. Burney, urged their immediate removal to the government
house. They hesitated at first, thinking the rebellion might soon
be quelled; but hearing from a rebel prisoner that the whole
province was engaged in the insurrection, and that large
reinforcements might be hourly expected to join the rebels, and
finding that the Mission premises from their situation, were likely
to be the very battleground of the contending parties,--after
seeking Divine direction, they concluded to abandon them. He
continues his narrative, "We caught up a few light articles on
which we could lay our hands, and with the native Christians, fled
as if for our lives. I visited the house once or twice after this,
and saved a few clothes and papers, but the firing being near,
rendered it hazardous to remain, and the last time I went, I found
the house had been plundered. A large part of our books, furniture
and clothes, which had remained behind were either taken away or
destroyed.
"We had been at the government house but a short time, when it was
agreed to evacuate the town and retire to the wharf. In the hurry
of our second removal, many things which we had brought from our
house, were necessarily left, to fall into the hands of the
plunderers. We soon found ourselves at the wharf,--a large wooden
building of six rooms, into which, besides the Europeans, were
huddled all the sepoys with their baggage and ours, and several
hundreds of women and children belonging to Portuguese and others,
who looked to the English for protection. Our greatest danger at
this time arose from having in one of the rooms where many were to
sleep, and all of us were continually passing, several hundred
barrels of gunpowder, to which if fire should be communicated
accidentally by ourselves, or mischievously by others, we should
all perish at once. The next danger was from the rebels, who if
they could either rush upon us, or take us by surprise or
stratagem, would doubtless massacre us all on the spot. We lifted
up our hearts to God, and he heard us from his holy habitation. We
were preserved in safety through the night, though anxious and
sleepless. All our attempts to communicate intelligence of our
situation to the people in Maulmain and Mergui were defeated, and
the heavy rains soon affected the health of the sepoys. We had but
a small supply of rice in the granary near the wharf, and that was
continually in danger of being destroyed or burnt. But through the
kind care of our Heavenly Father, we were preserved alive, and
nothing of great importance occurred until the morning of Thursday,
a little before day-break, when a party of 500 advanced upon us
from the town, and set fire to several houses and vessels near the
wharf. But God interposed in our behalf, and sent a heavy shower of
rain, which extinguished the fire while the sepoys repelled the
assailants.
"At breakfast the same morning we had the happiness of seeing the
Diana steam-vessel coming up the river, with Major Burney on board.
Our hearts bounded with gratitude to God. It was soon agreed that
the Diana should return immediately to Maulmain for a reinforcement
of troops, and Major Burney had the kindness to offer a passage for
Mrs. Boardman and our family together with his own. After looking
to God for direction, I concluded to remain behind, partly in
compliance with Major Burney's advice and desire, but particularly
in the hope of being useful as an interpreter and negotiator, and a
preventer of bloodshed. With painful pleasure I took a hasty leave
of my dear family, and in the evening the Diana left us, not
however without having several shots from cannon or jinjals fired
at her from the people on the city wall. The English forces, small
and weak and sick as they were, were now throwing up breast-works;
and on Saturday the 15th inst. it was agreed to make an attack on
the town, in order if possible to take from the walls the large
guns that bore upon us, and to try the strength of the rebel party.
I stood at the post of observation with a spy-glass to watch and
give the earliest notice of the event, and soon had the pleasure of
announcing that the officers and sepoys had scaled the walls, and
were pitching down outside the large guns, that were mounted there,
while friendly Chinese were employed in carrying them to the wharf.
The success was complete, and nothing remained but to rescue the
prisoners (60 in number) whom the rebels had caught and confined.
After a short cessation and a little refreshment, a second attack
was made, during which the prisoners escaped and the rebels
evacuated the city. A second battery of guns was also taken and
brought to the wharf. In the morning we walked at large through the
town; but what desolation, what barbarous destruction was
everywhere exhibited! everything that could not be carried away had
been cut and destroyed in the most wanton manner. Our own house was
cut to pieces, our books cut scattered, torn and destroyed; our
furniture either carried off, or cut, or broken in pieces, and the
house itself and zayat converted into cook-houses and barracks.
During the last three days, we have been picking up the scattered
fragments of our furniture, books, &c. and repairing our house.
"Nga-Dah, the ringleader of the rebellion, and eleven of his
principal adherents, have been caught. The inhabitants are coming
in with white flags and occupying their houses. The bazaar is open,
and the work of repairs is going on.
"Yesterday morning the Diana arrived with a reinforcement of
European soldiers; and to-day I have come on board, expecting to
proceed to Maulmain immediately. My present plan is, if my brethren
approve, to return with my family, and resume our missionary labors
as before. The native members of our church, now scattered, will
probably come into town as soon as they hear of our return. Of the
boarding scholars, all are with us except three Karens.
"My letter is already protracted to so great a length, that I can
only add that our preservation and deliverance from such imminent
danger, should awaken in our hearts the warmest gratitude to our
Heavenly Father, and the most unwavering confidence in his kind
care; and that the foregoing account should revive and deepen the
impression made by previous events in the history of this mission,
that we stand in need of the continual and fervent prayers of
Christians in America, not only for our preservation, but for
divine guidance in all our affairs.
"I remain, yours,
"G.D. Boardman
"P.S. _Saturday Morning, August 22d._--I have just arrived at
Maulmain, and have the happiness to find my family and missionary
friends in comfortable health. Praised be the Lord for his
goodness.
"_Aug. 29th._--After much deliberation, it is thought best that I
should leave my family here, till affairs are more settled.... I
expect to embark for Tavoy to-morrow morning. May the spirit of all
grace go with me!"
This is a "plain unvarnished" account of the terrible scene through
which the missionaries were so wonderfully preserved, but to understand
more fully their imminent peril we should know, that the town, at the
time of the revolt, was almost defenceless. The English civil and
military chief absent; the officer in command on his death-bed; no
English troops in the town, and but about a hundred sepoys, who though
trained to British modes of warfare are by no means equal in skill or
valor to British troops; and the chief engineer disabled by
sickness;--the Tavoyans had well chosen the time of their attack, and
they were sufficiently numerous to have carried all their plans into
execution; but the result, like that of all conflicts between civilized
and barbarous men, shows how greatly superior a few troops, well
disciplined, are to the most numerous bodies of men, unacquainted with
the art of war.
But what could be more appalling to the stoutest heart, than the
situation of Mrs. Boardman and her helpless family! Forced to flee from
her frail hut, by bullets actually whizzing through it, and to pass
through the town amid the yells of an infuriated rabble, her path
sometimes impeded by the dead bodies of men who had fallen in the
conflict: driven from the shelter of the government house, again to fly
through the streets to the wharf-house; and there, with three or four
hundred fugitives crowded together, to await death which threatened them
in every form,--hearing over their heads the rush of cannon balls, and
seeing from burning buildings showers of sparks falling, one of which,
if it reached the magazines under their roof, was sufficient to tear the
building from its foundations and whelm them all in one common ruin,--or
if they escaped this danger, to know that hundreds of merciless
barbarians with knives and cutlasses might at any moment rush into the
building and destroy them;--can the _female_ heart, we are ready to ask,
_endure_ such fearful trial?
"Perchance her reason stoops, or reels;
Perchance a courage not her own
Braces her mind to desperate tone,"
Yes, her mind was stayed by a "courage not her own," but it was "braced"
to no "desperate tone;" rather its calmness was that of a child, who, in
its own utter helplessness, clings to its father's arm, and feels
secure. Neither must we forget that a painful diversion of her thoughts
from the terrors around her, was afforded by the necessities of her
suffering babe, to whom the foul air of the wharf-house, and the want of
all comforts, had nearly proved fatal. It was only her sleepless,
vigilant care, that, under Providence, prevented the poor child from
sharing the fate of Mrs. Burney's little infant, which did not survive
the dreadful scene.
And with what transports of joy did this suffering company hail the
sight of the thin blue smoke that heralded the arrival of a steamer
from Maulmain! Amid what distracting fears for her husband, left in the
revolted city, her infant and herself, did Mrs. Boardman decide to go on
board the steamer returning to Maulmain! And with what gratitude and joy
did she, after several days of painful suspense, welcome to the same
city, her husband, and hear the tidings of the triumph of British power,
and the restoration of tranquillity! In her happiness at meeting him
alive, she noticed not that his late exposure and sufferings had
increased to an alarming degree the symptoms of his dreadful malady.
Inspired with something of his own enthusiasm, she saw him depart, to
return to his beloved labors in Tavoy, whither she hoped and expected
soon to follow him.
CHAPTER X.
MISSIONARY LABORS OF MR. BOARDMAN--HIS ILL HEALTH.--LETTER FROM MRS.
B.--DEATH OF A SECOND CHILD.--LETTERS FROM MRS. B.
From Mr. Boardman's journal we learn that he remained through the summer
and part of the autumn at Tavoy, diligently prosecuting his labors among
the Burmese, Chinese, Karens, and Europeans, among all which classes he
had singular success. In the meantime Mrs. Boardman continued at
Maulmain, part of the time suffering from illness, and when able,
assisting the missionaries there, until October, when she returned again
to Tavoy. The animated and even glowing recital, given by Mr. Boardman
in his journals and letters of this year, of the spread of gospel truth
among the natives; his records of preaching, travelling, teaching and
baptisms, would lead one to suppose that he was in the enjoyment of the
most vigorous health, and that his frame was insensible to fatigue. But
careless as he was of his own bodily ease, there was an eye that watched
him with the intensest solicitude; a heart that was pierced with
anxiety, knowing that though "the inner man was renewed day by day,"
the outer man was too surely "perishing," and would soon be laid aside,
forever.
On the 29th of July, 1830, Mrs. Boardman writes to her sister from
Maulmain, whither they had gone for the benefit of her children's
health: "We must look beyond this frail fleeting world for our true
peace. Alas, I know by most bitter experience, that it is in vain to
seek for true happiness here below. My fondest earthly hopes have again
and again been dashed. Torn from the bosom of my dear father's family,
my heart was almost broken; and when I stood by the death-bed of my
sweet, my lovely Sarah, I felt indeed that earthly hopes and joys are
but a dream. But a _darker cloud_ hangs over me. Oh what desolation and
anguish of spirit do I feel, when I think it is possible that in a few
more months, my earthly guide, supporter, and delight, may be no
more!... He has a cough which has been hanging about him a year, and he
is very much reduced by it.... Oh my sister, let us see to it that our
affections are set on things above."
Such "desolation and anguish of spirit" as she here describes, had her
husband felt for _her_ in the preceding year, when for some months
before and after the birth of her second son she lay struggling with a
dangerous disease, which he thought would surely terminate her life. At
that time he wrote: "She still grows weaker, and her case is now more
alarming. Should our friends for whom I have sent to Maulmain come even
immediately, I can scarcely hope for their arrival before the crisis, or
probably, fatal termination of my dear partner's disorder. My comfort in
my present affliction is the thought, that if to our former trials, the
Lord sees fit to add that of removing my beloved companion, he does it
with a perfect knowledge of all the blessedness which death will confer
on _her_, and of all the sorrows and distresses which her loss will
occasion her bereaved husband and orphan children, in our present
peculiar condition. It affords me great relief to have been assured by
her that the bitterness of death is past, and that heavenly glories have
been unfolded in a wonderful and unexpected manner to her view." And
again he says, seemingly losing for a moment his strong confidence,
"What will become of my children, what will become of the schools--of
the poor native women--what will become of _me_, if she die?" But she
recovered, and "his thankfulness knew no bounds, his letters are
eloquent in their utterance of joy and praise."
In a letter of Dec. 2, 1830, Mrs. Boardman records another affliction.
"God has come very near to us and wounded our hearts afresh. Our
youngest child, aged 8 months, went from us to meet his sainted sister,
in September last. We mourn, but not without hope; for we shall soon be
in that blissful world--be pure and lovely like our departed ones in
glory." And Mr. Boardman says: "Our hearts have been pierced anew by the
loss of our dear babe.... He was 8 months old, and though generally
feeble, one of the most lovely and interesting of babes. The Lord has
dealt with us severely, but not unkindly. He gave and he hath taken
away."
Both these devoted missionaries knew, however, that the best defence
against such trials as they endured, is found in a steady performance of
duty. In trouble as well as in joy, they devoted themselves to their
great object--saving souls.--How different from those who make a sort of
merit of "indulging the luxury of grief;" and show their regard for the
memory of the dead by neglecting their duties to the living!
Christianity, while it inculcates and fosters the tenderest sensibility
to the chastisements of our heavenly Parent, never allows us in any
calamity, to fold our hands in inactive despair. Our pathway is filled
with duties; and,
"Heart within, and God o'er head,"
we must, like our Master, "go about doing good," though we may feel
"cast down, pressed out of measure," by affliction.
Speaking of a severe illness about this time, Mr. Boardman says: "Death
seemed near, ... but had no alarms, no terrors.... My beloved family and
the perishing heathen, were all that made me in the least degree
unwilling to die. And even them I could resign to the hands of a
gracious and covenant-keeping God." In one of the last letters he ever
wrote, he thus records his testimony to the devotedness of his beloved
wife. "During my present protracted illness, and when I was at the worst
stage, she was the tenderest, most assiduous, attentive and affectionate
of nurses. Without her, I think I should have finished my career in a
few days. And even when our lamented, darling babe lay struggling in the
very arms of death, though she was with him constantly, night and day,
she did not allow me to suffer one moment, for lack of her attentions. I
cannot write what I feel on this tender subject. But oh what kindness in
our Heavenly Father, that when her services were so much needed, her
health was preserved, and she had strength given her to perform her
arduous labors."
Mr. Boardman's life was now fast ebbing away. In September, 1830, he had
written a sort of farewell to his parents, brothers and sisters, from
which it appears that even then he was daily looking for the
summons--"Come up hither." He says of this letter that it is his last
farewell. He thanks God that he has his complaint--consumption--in its
mildest form. He enumerates many circumstances of mercy with which he is
favored; and adds: "But most of all for outward comfort, I have my
beloved wife, whose most untiring assiduity has mitigated many of my
pains, and who is ever prompt to render all the services that the purest
affection can dictate, or the greatest sufferings require. And it
deserves to be mentioned that she has never been so free from missionary
and family cares, or from attacks of illness, as during the last three
months, while I have most needed her kind and soothing attentions. Bless
the Lord oh my soul, and praise his name!"
"In thinking," he adds, "on the probability of dying soon, two or three
things occasion considerable unwillingness to meet the solemn event. One
is, the sore affliction I know it will occasion to my dear family,
especially my fond, too fond wife. Her heart will be well-nigh riven.
But I must leave her with Him who is anointed to heal the broken-hearted
and to bind up their wounds. My dear little son is too young to remember
me long, or to realize his loss. I have prayed for him many times, and
can leave him in my Heavenly Father's hands.... Then there are the
perishing heathens around me.... During the last ten years, I have
studied with more or less reference to being useful to the heathen. And
now, if just as I am beginning to be qualified to labor a little among
them my days are cut short, much of my study and preparation seems to
be in vain. But I chide myself for saying so or thinking so. If I had
done no good whatever here in Burmah, I ought to submit and be still
under the hand of God, ... but I trust He has made me of some service to
a few poor benighted souls, especially among the Karens, who shall be my
glory and joy in the day of the Lord Jesus." "As to my hope and my
confidence of acceptance with God, if any man has reason to renounce all
his own righteousness, ... and to trust entirely and solely to grace,
sovereign grace, flowing through an atoning Saviour, I am that man. A
perfectly right action, with perfectly right motives, I never performed,
and never shall perform, till freed from this body of sin. An
unprofitable servant, is the most appropriate epitaph for my
tombstone."
Thus appeared a life of self-denying sacrifices for Christ, when shone
upon by the pure light of eternity. Happy then that the dying man could
say, "NOT by works of righteousness which we have done but by his
mercy he saves us!"
CHAPTER XI.
LETTER FROM MRS. BOARDMAN.--ILLNESS AND DEATH OF GEORGE DANA BOARDMAN.
"Tavoy, March 7, 1831.
"My beloved Parents,
"With a heart glowing with joy, and at the same time rent with
anguish unutterable, I take my pen to address you. You, too, will
rejoice when you hear what God has wrought through the
instrumentality of your beloved son. Yes, you will bless God that
you were enabled to devote him to this blessed service among the
heathen, when I tell you that within the last two months,
fifty-seven have been baptized, all Karens, excepting one, a little
boy of the school and son of the native governor. Twenty-three were
baptized in this city by Moung Ing, and thirty-four in their native
wilderness by Mr. Mason.
"Mr. Mason arrived Jan. 23d, and on the 31st, he, with Mr.
Boardman, myself and George, set out on a long-promised tour among
the Karens. Mr. Boardman was very feeble, but we hoped the change
of air and scenery would be beneficial. A company of Karens had
come to convey us out, Mr. Boardman on his bed and me in a chair.
We reached the place on the third day, and found they had erected a
bamboo chapel on a beautiful stream at the base of a range of
mountains. The place was central, and nearly one hundred persons
had assembled, more than half of them applicants for baptism. Oh it
was a sight calculated to call forth the liveliest joy of which
human nature is susceptible, and made me, for a moment, forget my
bitter griefs--a sight far surpassing all I had ever anticipated,
even in my most sanguine hours. The Karens cooked, ate and slept on
the around, by the river-side, with no other shelter than the trees
of the forest. Three years ago they were sunk in the lowest depths
of ignorance and superstition. Now the glad tidings of mercy had
reached them, and they were willing to live in the open air, away
from their homes, for the sake of enjoying the privileges of the
Gospel.
"My dear husband had borne the journey better than we had feared,
though he suffered from exhaustion and pain in his side, which,
however, was much relieved by a little attention. His spirits were
unusually good, and we fondly hoped that a few days' residence in
that delightful, airy spot, surrounded by his loved Karens, would
recruit and invigorate his weakened frame. But I soon perceived he
was failing, and tenderly urged his return to town, where he could
enjoy the quiet of home, and the benefit of medical advice. But he
repelled the thought at once, saying he confidently expected
improvement from the change, and that the disappointment would be
worse for him than staying. 'And even,' added he, 'should my poor,
unprofitable life be somewhat shortened by staying, ought I, on
that account merely, to leave this interesting field? Should I not
rather stay and assist in gathering in these dear scattered lambs
of the fold? You know, Sarah, that coming on a foreign mission
involves the probability of a shorter life, than staying in one's
native country. And yet obedience to our Lord, and compassion for
the perishing heathen, induced us to make this sacrifice. And have
we ever repented that we came? No; I trust we can both say that we
bless God for bringing us to Burmah, for directing our footsteps to
Tavoy, and even for leading us hither. You already know, my love,'
he continued, with a look of tenderness never to be forgotten,
'that I cannot live long, I must sink under this disease; and
should we go home now, the all-important business which brought us
out, must be given up, and I might linger out a few days of
suffering, stung with the reflection, that I had preferred a few
idle days, to my Master's service. Do not, therefore, ask me to go,
till these poor Karens have been baptized.' I saw he was right, but
my feelings revolted. Nothing seemed so valuable as his life, and
I felt that I could make any sacrifice to prolong it, though it
were but for one hour. Still a desire to gratify him, if no higher
motive made me silent, though my heart ached to see him so ill in
such a wretched place, deprived of many of the comforts of life, to
say nothing of the indulgences desirable in sickness.
"The chapel was large, but open on all sides, excepting a small
place built up for Mr. Mason, and a room about five feet wide and
ten feet long, for the accommodation of Mr. Boardman and myself
with our little boy. The roof was so low, that I could not stand
upright; and it was but poorly enclosed, so that he was exposed to
the burning rays of the sun by day, and to the cold winds and damp
fog by night. But his mind was happy, and he would often say, 'If I
live to see this one ingathering, I may well exclaim, with happy
Simeon, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,
according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation. How
many ministers have wished they might die in their pulpits; and
would not dying in a spot like this, be even more blessed than
dying in a pulpit at home? I feel that it would.'
"Nor was it merely the pleasing state of things around him that
filled his mind with comfort. He would sometimes dwell on the
infinite compassion of God, and his own unworthiness, till his
strength was quite exhausted; and though he told Mr. Mason that he
had not the rapture which he had sometimes enjoyed, yet his mind
was calm and peaceful; and it was plainly perceptible, that earthly
passions had died way, and that he was enjoying sweet foretastes of
that rest into which he was so soon to enter. He would often say to
me, 'My meditations are very sweet, though my mind seems as much
weakened as my body. I have not had that liveliness of feeling,
which I have sometimes enjoyed, owing to my great weakness, but I
shall soon be released from shackles, and be where I can praise God
continually, without weariness. My thoughts delight to dwell on
these words, _There is no night there_.'
"I felt that the time of separation was fast approaching, and said
to him, 'My dear, I have one request to make; it is, that you would
pray much for George, during your few remaining days. I shall soon
be left alone, almost the only one on earth to pray for him, and I
have great confidence in your dying prayers.' He looked earnestly
at the little boy, and said, 'I will try to pray for him; but I
trust very many prayers will ascend for the dear child from our
friends at home, who will be induced to supplicate the more
earnestly for him, when they hear that he is left fatherless in a
heathen land.'
"On Wednesday, while looking in the glass, he seemed at once to
see symptoms of his approaching dissolution, and said, without
emotion, 'I have altered greatly--I am sinking into the grave very
fast--just on the verge.' Mr. Mason said to him, 'Is there nothing
we can do for you? Had we not better call the physician? Or shall
we try to remove you into town immediately?' After a few moments'
deliberation, it was concluded to defer the baptism of the male
applicants, and set out for home early the next morning. Nearly all
the female candidates had been examined, and as it is difficult for
them to come to town, it was thought best that Mr. Mason should
baptize them in the evening. We knelt, and Mr. Mason having prayed
for a blessing on the decision, we sat down to breakfast with
sorrowful hearts.
"While we were at the table, my beloved husband said, 'I shall soon
be thrown away for this world; but I hope the Lord Jesus will take
me up. That merciful Being, who is represented as passing by, and
having compassion on the poor cast-out infant, will not suffer me
to perish. O, I have no hope but in the wonderful, condescending,
infinite mercy of God, through his dear Son. I cast my poor
perishing soul, loaded with sin, as it is, upon his compassionate
arms, assured that all will he forever safe.' On seeing my tears,
he said, 'Are you not reconciled to the will of God, my love?'
When I told him I hoped I did not feel unreconciled, he continued,
'I have long ago, and many times, committed you and our little one
into the hands of our covenant God. He is the husband of the widow
and the father of the fatherless. _Leave thy fatherless children, I
will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me_, saith
the Lord. He will be your stay and support, when I am gone. The
separation will be but short. O, how happy I shall be to welcome
you to heaven.' He then addressed Mr. Mason, as follows:--'Brother,
I am heartily rejoiced, and bless God that you have arrived, and
especially am I gratified, that you are so much interested for the
poor Karens. You will, I am assured, watch over them, and take care
of them; and if some of them turn back, you will still care for
them. As to my dear wife and child, I know you will do all in your
power to make them comfortable. Mrs. B. will probably spend the
ensuing rains in Tavoy. She will be happy with you and Mrs. Mason;
that is, as happy as she can be in her state of loneliness. She
will mourn for me, and a widow's state is desolate and sorrowful at
best. But God will he infinitely better to her, than I have ever
been.' On the same day, he wished me to read some hymns on
affliction, sickness, death, &c. I took Wesley's Hymn Book, the
only one we had with us, and read several, among others, the one
beginning 'Ah, lovely appearance of death.'
"On Wednesday evening, thirty-four persons were baptized. Mr.
Boardman was carried to the waterside, though so weak that he could
hardly breathe without the continual use of the fan and the
smelling-bottle. The joyful sight was almost too much for his
feeble frame. When we reached the chapel, he said he would like to
sit up and take tea with us. We placed his cot near the table, and
having bolstered him up, we took tea together. He asked the
blessing, and did it with his right hand upraised, and in a tone
that struck me to the heart. It was the same tremulous, yet urgent,
and I had almost said, unearthly voice, with which my aged
grandfather used to pray. We now began to notice that brightening
of the mental faculties, which I had heard spoken of, in persons
near their end.
"After tea was removed, all the disciples present, about fifty in
number, gathered around him, and he addressed them for a few
moments in language like the following:--'I did hope to stay with
you till after Lord's-day, and administer to you once more the
Lord's Supper. But God is calling me away from you. I am about to
die, and shall soon be inconceivably happy in heaven. When I am
gone, remember what I have taught you; and O, be careful to
persevere unto the end, that when you die, we may meet one another
in the presence of God, never more to part. Listen to the word of
the new teacher and the teacheress as you have done to mine. The
teacheress will be very much distressed. Strive to lighten her
burdens, and comfort her by your good conduct. Do not neglect
prayer. The eternal God, to whom you pray, is unchangeable. Earthly
teachers sicken and die, but God remains forever the same. Love
Jesus Christ with all your hearts, and you will be forever safe.'
This address I gathered from the Karens, as I was absent preparing
his things for the night. Having rested a few minutes, he offered a
short prayer, and then with Mr. Mason's assistance, distributed
tracts and portions of Scripture to them all. Early the next
morning we left for home, accompanied by nearly all the males and
some of the females, the remainder returning to their homes in the
wilderness. Mr. Boardman was free from pain during the day, and
there was no unfavorable change, except that his mouth grew sore.
But at four o'clock in the afternoon, we were overtaken by a
violent shower of rain accompanied by lightning and thunder. There
was no house in sight, and we were obliged to remain in the open
air, exposed to the merciless storm. We covered him with mats and
blankets, and held our umbrellas over him, all to no purpose. I was
obliged to stand and see the storm beating upon him, till his
mattress and pillows were drenched with rain. We hastened on, and
soon came to a Tavoy house. The inhabitants at first refused us
admittance, and we ran for shelter into the out-houses. The shed I
happened to enter, proved to be the 'house of their gods,' and thus
I committed an almost unpardonable offence. After some persuasion
they admitted us into the house, or rather verandah, for they would
not allow us to sleep inside, though I begged the privilege for my
sick husband with tears. In ordinary cases, perhaps, they would
have been hospitable; but they knew that Mr. Boardman was a teacher
of a foreign religion, and that the Karens in our company had
embraced that religion.
"At evening worship, Mr. Boardman requested Mr. Mason to read the
thirty-fourth Psalm. He seemed almost spent, and said, 'This poor
perishing dust will soon be laid in the grave; but God can employ
other lumps of clay to perform his will, as easily as he has this
poor unworthy one.' I told him, I should like to sit up and watch
by him, but he objected, and said in a tender supplicating tone,
'Cannot we sleep together?' The rain still continued, and his cot
was wet, so that he was obliged to lie on the bamboo floor. Having
found a place where our little boy could sleep without danger of
falling through openings in the floor, I threw myself down,
without undressing, beside my beloved husband. I spoke to him often
during the night, and he said he felt well, excepting an
uncomfortable feeling in his mouth and throat. This was somewhat
relieved by frequent washings with cold water. Miserably wretched
as his situation was, he did not complain; on the contrary, his
heart seemed overflowing with gratitude. 'O,' said he, 'how kind
and good our Father in heaven is to me; how many are racked with
pain, while I, though near the grave, am almost free from distress
of body. I suffer nothing, _nothing_ to what you, my dear Sarah,
had to endure last year, when I thought I must lose you. And then I
have you to move me so tenderly. I should have sunk into the grave
ere this, but for your assiduous attention. And brother Mason is as
kind to me as if he were my own brother. And then how many, in
addition to pain of body, have anguish of soul, while my mind is
sweetly stayed on God.' On my saying, 'I hope we shall be at home
to-morrow night, where you can lie on your comfortable bed, and I
can nurse you as I wish,' he said, 'I want nothing that the world
can afford, but my wife and friends; earthly conveniences and
comforts are of little consequence to one so near heaven. I only
want them for your sake.' In the morning we thought him a little
better, though I perceived, when I gave him his sago, that his
breath was very short. He, however, took rather more nourishment
than usual, and spoke about the manner of his conveyance home. We
ascertained that by waiting until twelve o'clock, we could go the
greater part of the way by water.
"At about nine o'clock, his hands and feet grew cold, and the
affectionate Karens rubbed them all the forenoon, excepting a few
moments when he requested to be left alone. At ten o'clock, he was
much distressed for breath, and I thought the long dreaded moment
had arrived. I asked him, if he felt as if he was going home--'not
just yet,' he replied. On giving him a little wine and water, he
revived. Shortly after, he said, 'You were alarmed without cause
just now, dear--I know the reason of the distress I felt, but am
too weak to explain it to you.' In a few moments he said to me,
'Since you spoke to me about George, I have prayed for him almost
incessantly--more than in all my life before.'
"It drew near twelve, the time for us to go to the boat. We were
distressed at the thought of removing him, when evidently so near
the last struggle, though we did not think it so near as it really
was. But there was no alternative. The chilling frown of the
iron-faced Tavoyan was to us as if he was continually saying, 'be
gone.' I wanted a little broth for my expiring husband, but on
asking them for a fowl they said they had none, though at that
instant, on glancing my eye through an opening in the floor, I saw
three or four under the house. My heart was well nigh breaking.
"We hastened to the boat, which was only a few steps from the
house. The Karens carried Mr. Boardman first, and as the shore was
muddy, I was obliged to wait till they could return for me. They
took me immediately to him; but O, the agony of my soul, when I saw
the hand of death was on him! He was looking me full in the face,
but his eyes were changed, not dimmed, but brightened, and the
pupils so dilated, that I feared he could not see me. I spoke to
him--kissed him--but he made no return, though I fancied that he
tried to move his lips. I pressed his hand, knowing that if he
could, he would return the pressure; but, alas! for the first time,
he was insensible to my love, and forever. I had brought a glass of
wine and water already mixed, and a smelling-bottle, but neither
was of any avail to him now. Agreeably to a previous request, I
called the faithful Karens, who loved him so much, and whom he had
loved unto death, to come and watch his last gentle breathings, for
there was no struggle.
"Never, my dear parents, did one of our poor fallen race have less
to contend with, in the last enemy. Little George was brought to
see his dying father, but he was too young to know there was cause
for grief When Sarah died, her father said to George, 'Poor little
boy, you will not know to-morrow what you have lost to-day.' A deep
pang rent my bosom at the recollection of this, and a still deeper
one succeeded when the thought struck me, that though my little boy
may not know to-morrow what he has lost to-day, yet when years have
rolled by, and he shall have felt the unkindness of a deceitful,
selfish world, _he will know_.
"Mr. Mason wept, and the sorrowing Karens knelt down in prayer to
God--that God, of whom their expiring teacher had taught them--that
God, into whose presence the emancipated spirit was just
entering--that God, with whom they hope and expect to be happy
forever. My own feelings I will not attempt to describe. You may
have some faint idea of them, when you recollect what he was to me,
how tenderly I loved him, and, at the same time, bear in mind the
precious promises to the afflicted.
"We came in silence down the river, and landed about three miles
from our house. The Karens placed his precious remains on his
little bed, and with feelings which you can better imagine than I
describe, we proceeded homewards. The mournful intelligence had
reached town before us, and we were soon met by Moung Ing, the
Burman preacher. At the sight of us he burst into a flood of
tears. Next, we met the two native Christian sisters, who lived
with us. But the moment of most bitter anguish was yet to come on
our arrival at the house. They took him into the sleeping-room, and
when I uncovered his face, for a few moments, nothing was heard but
reiterated sobs. He had not altered--the same sweet smile, with
which he was wont to welcome me, sat on his countenance. His eyes
had opened in bringing him, and all present seemed expecting to
hear his voice; when the thought, that it was silent forever,
rushed upon us, and filled us with anguish sudden and unutterable.
There were the Burman Christians, who had listened so long, with
edification and delight, to his preaching--there were the Karens,
who looked to him as their guide, their earthly all--there were the
scholars whom he had taught the way to heaven, and the Christian
sisters, whose privilege it had been to wash, as it were, his feet.
"Early next morning, his funeral was attended, and all the
Europeans in the place, with many natives, were present. It may be
some consolation to you to know that everything was performed in as
decent a manner, as if he had been buried in our own dear native
land. By his own request, he was interred on the south side of our
darling first-born. It is a pleasant circumstance to me, that they
sleep _side by side_. But it is infinitely more consoling to
think, that their glorified spirits have met in that blissful
world, where sin and death never enter, and sorrow is unknown.
"Praying that we may be abundantly prepared to enter into our
glorious rest, I remain, my dear parents, your deeply afflicted,
but most affectionate child,
"Sarah H. Boardman."
* * * * *
Well might Mr. Judson say, "One of the brightest luminaries of Burmah is
extinguished, dear brother Boardman is gone to his eternal rest. He fell
gloriously at the head of his troops, in the arms of victory,
thirty-seven wild Karens having been brought into the camp of our king
since the beginning of the year, besides the thirty-two that were
brought in during the two preceding years. Disabled by wounds, he was
obliged through the whole of his last expedition, to be carried on a
litter; but his presence was a host, and the Holy Spirit accompanied his
dying whispers with almighty influence. Such a death, next to that of
martyrdom, must be glorious in the eyes of Heaven. Well may we rest
assured, that a triumphal crown awaits him on the great day, and 'Well
done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!'"
This is in the spirit of Montgomery's noble hymn, with an extract from
which we will close the account of George Dana Boardman.
"Soldier of Christ, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ:
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy.
At midnight came the cry,
To meet thy God prepare!
He woke, and caught his Captain's eye;
Then, strong in faith and prayer
His spirit, with a bound,
Left its encumbering clay;
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground,
A darkened ruin lay."
CHAPTER XII.
LETTERS FROM MRS. B.--HER DECISION TO REMAIN IN BURMAH.--HER MISSIONARY
LABORS.--HER TRIALS.--SCHOOLS.
Mrs. Boardman found the society of Mr. and Mrs. Mason a sweet solace to
her sad heart. They joined her at Tavoy in the spring of 1831, and
assisted her in her school, besides studying the language. Her letters
to her sister show a spirit chastened and saddened, but not crushed by
sorrow, and still tenderly solicitous for the spiritual welfare of her
dear brothers and sisters in America. She urges them by every motive, to
embrace that Saviour she had found so precious. After telling them of
the "glorious revival among the Karens," and of the baptism of
seventy-three of them, she asks how they feel when they hear of the
conversion of these poor children of the wilderness? "Some," she says,
"indeed most of those who have been baptized, were impressed with the
infinite importance of religion at the first time of hearing the gospel,
and gave themselves no rest till they found it in the Saviour. O, I
tremble and can scarcely hold my pen while I think of the awful account
_you_ must render to God, if after all your privileges, you fall short
of Heaven at last.... How can you resist any longer? You cannot, you
will not--something tells me you will give yourself immediately,
unreservedly to that compassionate Saviour whose love was stronger than
death."
Her confidence was justified; for some months later she says, "Dearly
beloved brother and sister, a parcel of letters from America has reached
us, which we eagerly opened, ... and received the delightful,
heart-cheering intelligence that you have both become followers of
Jesus, and have openly professed his name, and that two others of the
dear children are serious.... Oh I have wept hours at the thought of
God's goodness in giving me such joyful news in the midst of my sorrows.
And is it indeed true that my own dear Harriet and my dearly loved
brother are adopted into the family of God's chosen ones? Are your names
really written in the Lamb's book of life?... And do each of you when
alone in your closet before your Heavenly Father, feel that he draws
near to you, and that sweeter than all the pleasures of the world is
communion with him? O I know that you do; and now do I feel a union with
you unknown before. How sweet to feel, that while wandering, a lonely
desolate widow, some of those whom I most love, remember me every day
before a throne of grace. Now when I kneel in prayer the voice of
praise is on my lips. At each thought of home, my heart leaps for joy,
and I feel as if relieved of a heavy burden which continually weighed
down my spirits while thinking of my absent brothers and sisters.... The
accounts of the glorious revivals in different parts of our dear native
land have greatly refreshed our hearts, and we are ready to exclaim,
surely the millennium has dawned for happy America. Perhaps you think
such intelligence makes me wish to return. But no, my dear brothers and
sisters, it makes me feel just the reverse. I do most ardently long to
labor in this dark land till the day dawns upon us, ... rather I should
say till the Sun of Righteousness reaches the _meridian_ of Burmah, for
the day has already dawned, and the eastern Karen mountains, enveloped
for ages past in midnight gloom, are rejoicing in his bright beams.
"Our schools are very flourishing.... We have sixty scholars in town,
and about fifty among the Karens in the jungles. I feel desolate,
lonely, and sometimes deeply distressed at my great and irreparable
loss,--but I bless God I am not in despair. My darling George is in good
health, and is a source of much comfort, though of deep anxiety to me.
He is learning to read, but is not so forward as children at home. How
it comforts my heart to be able to ask you to pray for him!"
In a hurried postscript she adds: "There are more than eighty Karens at
our house, upwards of twenty of them applicants for baptism."
In another letter: "Death now seems nearer to me, and Heaven dearer than
before I was afflicted; ... my afflictions are precisely the kind my
soul needed.... I receive from my dear friends the Masons, every
possible kindness. But alas! the hours of loneliness and bitter weeping
I endure, are known only to God. But still Jesus has sweetened the cup,
and I would not that it should have passed my lip."
Three courses of life were now open to Mrs. Boardman. Either to devote
herself to her domestic duties, manage her household, educate her
darling boy, and in quiet seclusion pass the weary days of her
widowhood; or--looking abroad on the spiritual wants of the people
around her, knowing that if one devoted laborer was gone there was the
more need of activity in those that remained,--she might continue to
employ her time and faculties in instructing and elevating those in
whose service her husband had worn out his life; or, thirdly, she might
take her child, her "only one," and return to the land of her birth,
where she still had dear parents, brothers and sisters, who would
welcome her with open arms, and where she could give her son those
advantages which he never could have in a heathen land. To adopt either
the first or the last of these courses, she was urged by her natural
disposition, which was singularly modest and retiring, her feeble
health, the enervating influence of the climate, and above all by the
strong tendency to self-indulgence which always accompanies a
heart-rending sorrow. "But oh," she says in a letter to a friend, "these
poor, inquiring and Christian Karens, and the school-boys, and the
Burmese Christians" ... and the thought of _these_ made her more than
willing to adopt the second course; for she says, "My beloved husband
wore out his life in this glorious cause; and that remembrance makes me
more than ever attached to the work and the people for whose salvation
he labored till death."
During her husband's life-time. Mrs. Boardman had of course little to
perform of what could properly be called missionary labor; even her
teaching in the schools was very often interrupted by sickness, and the
schools themselves were often broken up by untoward events which the
Missionaries could not control. Now, however, new circumstances called
her to new and untried duties. Yet there was no sudden or violent change
in her mode of life. The honored lips that had instructed, and guided,
and comforted the ignorant natives, were sealed in death; yet still
those natives continued to turn their eyes and their steps to the loved
residence of their teacher whenever they found themselves oppressed
with difficulty or distress and could the widow of that venerated
teacher refuse to those poor disciples any guidance or consolation it
was in her power to bestow? No; quietly and meekly she instructed the
ignorant, consoled the afflicted, led inquirers to her Saviour, and
warned the impenitent to flee to him; and if insensibly she thus came to
fill a place from which her nature would instinctively have shrunk,
there was still about her such a modest and womanly grace, combined with
such a serious and dignified purpose of soul, that the most fastidious
could have found nothing to censure, while lovers of the cause she had
espoused, found everything to commend. "I rejoice," writes a friend in
this country to her, on hearing of her self-sacrificing labors, "that
your husband's mantle has fallen upon you ... and that more than ever
before, it is in your heart to benefit the heathen."
That her duties were arduous, her letters fully prove. In one of them
she says, "Every moment of my time is occupied _from sunrise till ten in
the evening_. It is late-bed time, and I am surrounded by five Karen
women, three of whom arrived this afternoon from the jungle, after being
separated from us nearly five months by the heavy rains. The Karens are
beginning to come to us in companies; and with them, and our scholars in
the town, and the care of my darling boy, you will scarce think I have
much leisure for letter-writing."
Thus she toiled on, cheered by the consciousness that she was in the
path of duty: that her husband if permitted from his home in heaven to
watch over the spot he most loved on earth, would smile approvingly on
her labors; and encouraged by the affection of many of the disciples,
and the interest awakened among some new inquirers.
But it cannot be doubted that her trials were at least equal to her
encouragements. Long before, Mr. Boardman had written, "the thoughts of
this people," the Burmans, "run in channels entirely different from
ours. Their whole system has a tendency to cramp their intellectual
powers;--professedly divine in its origin, it demands credence without
evidence; it spurns improvement, disdains the suggestions of experience,
and flatly denies the testimony of the external senses. What a man sees
with his own eyes he is not to believe, because his Scriptures teach
otherwise.... There is no fellowship of thought between them and us on
any subject. Everything appears to them in a different light, they
attribute everything to a different cause, seek a remedy of evils from a
different quarter, and entertain, in fine, a set of thoughts and
imaginations totally different from ours." The Karens, it is true, had
fewer prejudices to be eradicated, and more easily sympathized with the
missionaries than the haughty, self-sufficient Burmans; but then their
very docility made them liable to another danger, that of holding their
new faith lightly, and parting with it easily. All these difficulties
sometimes so pressed upon Mrs. Boardman, that she was ready to say, "It
requires the patience of a Job and the wisdom of a Solomon to get on
with this people; much as I love them, and good as I think they are."
She then spoke of the _converts_; in whom was implanted that grace
which, so far as it operates on the heart, makes all, in a sense, _one_
in Christ Jesus; how then must she have been tried with those who would
not repent and embrace the only principles that could give her the least
fellowship or communion with them?
_Jan. 19, 1832._--Mrs. Boardman writes of herself and her
fellow-missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Mason, "We meet with much
encouragement in our schools, and our number of day-scholars is now
about eighty. These, with the boarding schools, two village schools, and
about fifty persons who learn during the rainy season in the Karen
jungle, make upwards of one hundred and seventy under our instruction.
The scholars in the jungle cannot of course visit us often but a great
many have come to be examined in their lessons, and we are surprised and
delighted at the progress they have made."
Of course they had to employ, as teachers of these schools, natives,
who needed constant supervision and superintendence. Some of these
teachers were exceedingly interesting persons. Of the death of one of
them she writes, "Thah-oung continued in his school till two days before
his death, although for a long time he had been very ill. He felt, then,
that he _must_ die, and said to his scholars, 'I can do no more--God is
calling me away from you,--I go into His presence--be not dismayed.' He
was then carried to the house of his father, a few miles distant, and
there he continued exhorting and praying to the very last moment. His
widow, who is not yet fifteen, is one of the loveliest of our desert
blossoms." And afterwards in alluding to the same event, she says, "One
of our best Karen teachers came to see us, and through him we heard that
the disciples were well; that they were living in love, in the enjoyment
of religion, and had nothing to distress them, but the death of their
beloved teacher. Poor Moung Quay was obliged to turn away his face to
weep several times while answering my inquiries. Oh how they feel the
stroke that has fallen upon them. And well they may, for he was to them
a father and a guide."
"The superintendence of the food and clothing of both the boarding
schools," she afterwards writes, "together with the care of five
day-schools under native teachers, devolves wholly on me. Our
day-schools are growing every week more and more interesting. We cannot,
it is true, expect to see among them so much progress, especially in
Christianity, as our boarders make; but they are constantly gaining
religious knowledge, and will grow up with comparatively correct ideas.
They with their teachers attend worship regularly on Lord's-day. The
day-schools are entirely supported at present by the Honorable Company's
allowance, and the civil commissioner, Mr. Maingy appears much
interested in their success."
CHAPTER XIII.
CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN MRS. BOARDMAN AND THE SUPERINTENDENT.--HER TOURS
AMONG THE KARENS.--HER PERSONAL APPEARANCE.--HER ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE
BURMAN LANGUAGE.--DR. JUDSON'S TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE.
An interesting letter from the gentleman mentioned at the close of the
last chapter, with Mrs. Boardman's reply, we will give entire, as they
exhibit at once her firmness of principle, and the high respect she
commanded from the European residents in the country.
"Tavoy, Aug. 24, 1833.
"My dear Sir,
"Mr. Mason has handed me for perusal, the extract from your letter
to Government, which you kindly sent him. I apprehend I have
hitherto had wrong impressions in reference to the ground on which
the Honorable Company patronize schools in their territories; and I
hope you will allow me to say, that it would not accord with my
feelings and sentiments, to banish religious instruction from the
schools under my care. I think it desirable for the rising
generation of this Province, to become acquainted with useful
science; and the male part of the population, with the English
language. But it is infinitely more important that they receive
into their hearts our holy religion, which is the source of so much
happiness in this state, and imparts the hope of a glorious
immortality in the world to come. Parents and guardians must know
that there is more or less danger of their children deserting the
faith of their ancestors, if placed under the care of a Foreign
Missionary; and the example of some of the pupils is calculated to
increase such apprehensions. Mr. Boardman baptized into the
Christian religion several of his scholars. One of the number is
now a devoted preacher; and notwithstanding the decease of their
beloved and revered teacher, they all, with one unhappy exception,
remain firm in the Christian faith.
"The success of the Hindoo College, where religious instruction was
interdicted, may perhaps be urged in favor of pursuing a similar
course in schools here. But it strikes me, that the case is
different here, even admitting _their_ course to be right. The
overthrow of a system so replete with cruel and impure rites, as
the Hindoo, or so degrading as the Mahometan, _might_ be matter of
joy, though no better religion were introduced in its stead. But
the Burman system of morality is superior to that of the nations
round them, and to the heathen of ancient times, and is surpassed
only by the divine precepts of our blessed Saviour. Like all other
merely _human_ institutions, it is destitute of saving power; but
its influence on the people, so far as it is felt, is salutary, and
their moral character will, I should think, bear a comparison with
that of any heathen nation in the world. The person who should
spend his days in teaching them mere human science, (though he
might undermine their false tenets,) by neglecting to set before
them brighter hopes and purer principles, would, I imagine, live to
very little purpose. For myself, sure I am, I should at last suffer
the overwhelming conviction of having labored in vain.
"With this view of things, you will not, my dear sir, be surprised
at my saying, it is impossible for me to pursue a course so utterly
repugnant to my feelings, and so contrary to my judgment, as to
banish religious instruction from the schools in my charge. It is
what I am confident you yourself would not wish; but I infer from a
remark in your letter that such are the terms on which Government
affords patronage. It would be wrong to deceive the patrons of the
schools and if my supposition is correct, I can do no otherwise
than request, that the monthly allowance be withdrawn. It will
assist in establishing schools at Maulmain on a plan more consonant
with the wishes of Government than mine has ever been. Meanwhile I
trust, I shall be able to represent the claims of my pupils in such
a manner, as to obtain support and countenance from those, who
would wish the children to be taught the principles of the
Christian faith.
"Allow me, my dear sir, to subscribe myself,
"Yours, most respectfully,
"Sarah H. Boardman."
"My dear Madam,
"I cannot do otherwise than honor and respect the sentiments
conveyed in your letter, now received. You will, I hope, give me
credit for sincerity, when I assure you, that in alluding to the
system of instruction pursued by you, it has ever been a source of
pride to me, to point out the quiet way, in which your scholars
have been made acquainted with the Christian religion. My own
Government in no way proscribes the teaching of Christianity. The
observations in my official letter are intended to support what I
have before brought to the notice of Government, that _all_ are
received, who present themselves for instruction at your schools,
without any stipulation as to their becoming members of the
Christian faith.
I cannot express to you how much your letter has distressed me. It
has been a subject of consideration with me, for some months past,
how I could best succeed in establishing a college here, the
scholars of which were to have been instructed in the same system
which you have so successfully pursued. Believe me,
"Yours very faithfully,
"A.D. Maingy
"_Saturday._"
Appropriations were afterward made by the British government for schools
throughout the Provinces "to be conducted on the plan of Mrs. Boardman's
schools at Tavoy;" and although the propagation of Christianity in the
_other_ schools was subsequently prohibited, yet in _her own_, she
always taught as her conscience dictated.
It had been one of Mr. Boardman's practices to make frequent tours among
the Karen villages, to preach the gospel, and strengthen the disciples
and the feeble churches. Even from this duty, as far as the visitation
was concerned, his widow did not shrink, although she _did_ shrink from
writing or speaking much on the subject; doubtless always regarding it
as a cross, which although she might bear with patience, she would
willingly lay down as soon as duty should permit. Attended by her
faithful Karens, and her little boy borne in their arms,--leaving Mr.
Mason to his indispensable task of acquiring the language, she would
thread the wild passes of the mountains, and the obscure paths of the
jungle, fording the smaller streams and carried over the larger in a
chair borne on bamboo poles by her followers,--carrying joy and gladness
to the hearts of the simple-minded villagers, and cheering her own by
witnessing their constancy and fidelity.
In her own inimitable style "Fanny Forrester" gives an account of an
adventure of Mrs. Boardman during one of these excursions; in which the
impression she made upon an English officer who encountered her far from
civilized habitations, so unexpectedly that he almost mistook her for an
angel visitant from a better sphere, was sufficiently pleasant to form
the basis of a lasting friendship between them. Indeed there are many
testimonials to Mrs. Boardman's personal loveliness and grace of manner.
In Calcutta, where she resided nearly two years, she was regarded as a
"finished lady;" and in a well-written tribute to her memory, published
in the Mother's Journal, she is described as "of about middle stature,
agreeable in personal appearance, and winning in manners. The first
impression of an observer respecting her in her youth, would be of a
gentle, confiding, persuasive being, who would sweeten the cup of life
to those who drank it with her. But further acquaintance would develop
strength as well as loveliness of character. It would be seen that she
could do and endure, as well as love and please. Sweetness and strength,
gentleness and firmness, were in her character most happily blended.
Her mind was both poetical and practical. She had a refined taste, and a
love for the beautiful as well as the excellent." But all these fine
gifts and endowments were consecrated; the offering she had made on her
Saviour's altar was unreserved; nor do we find that she ever cast back
to the world where she might have shone so brilliantly, "one longing,
lingering look."
She is said by her fellow Missionaries to have made wonderful
proficiency in the Burman language, and indeed she translated into it
Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. She loved the language much; and used to
read the Scriptures in it in preference to reading them in English. She
once said to Mrs. Mason, "I should be willing to learn Burmese, for the
sake of reading the Scriptures in that language."
The translation of the Scriptures into Burmese is a work for which
Burmah is indebted to Dr. Judson For many years this devoted servant of
Christ employed on this great work every moment he could spare from
pastoral labor; and there is something truly sublime in the record he
has left of the completion of it, in his Journal under date of Jan. 31,
1834: "Thanks be to god, I can now say, I have attained! I have
knelt down before him, with the last leaf in my hand, and imploring his
forgiveness for all the sins which have polluted my labors in this
department, and his aid in future efforts to remove the errors and
imperfections which necessarily cleave to the work, I have commended it
to his mercy and grace; I have dedicated it to his glory. May he make
his own inspired word, now complete in the Burman tongue, the grand
instrument of filling all Burmah with songs and praises to our great God
and Saviour, Jesus Christ Amen."
CHAPTER XIV.
MRS. BOARDMAN'S SECOND MARRIAGE.--REMOVAL TO MAULMAIN.--LETTER FROM MRS.
JUDSON.--HER SON SENT TO AMERICA.--HER HUSBAND'S ILLNESS.
On the tenth of April, 1834, Mrs. Boardman was married to one whose
character she afterwards declared to be "a complete assemblage of all
that woman could wish to love and honor," the Rev. Dr. Judson With him
she removed to her new home in Maulmain, which had undergone wonderful
changes since she left it in 1828. Then, the only church there had
_three_ native members; now she found there three churches numbering two
hundred members! Her duties now were different from what they had been,
but not less important; and in a letter written to a very intimate
friend one year after her marriage, we find her thus expressing herself:
"I can truly say that the mission cause, and missionary labor is
increasingly dear to me, every month of my life. I am now united with
one whose heavenly spirit and example is deeply calculated to make me
more devoted to the cause than I ever have been before. O that I may
profit by such precious advantages."
Many Missionaries had arrived from America and established themselves
in different places; several resided at Maulmain; so that Mrs. Judson,
as we must now call her, could enjoy much Christian society besides that
of the natives. But neither she nor her fellow-laborers had much time to
devote exclusively to social intercourse. Beside schools to superintend,
and Bible-classes to conduct, and prayer-meetings to attend, societies
were to be formed among the half-educated native females in which they
could be instructed in maternal and social duties. In addition to these
cares, Mrs. Judson took upon herself the task of acquiring a new
language, in order to instruct the Peguans, a people who had put
themselves under the protection of the British, after revolting against
the Burmans. This people were so numerous in Maulmain that the
missionaries felt constrained to furnish them with instruction.
Under these labors, Mrs. Judson's health again failed but after some
weeks of suffering, she began to recover, and for many subsequent years
her health was uninterrupted. In a letter written some time after, she
accounts for her enjoyment of health, in the following manner:--
"When I first came up from Tavoy, I was thin and pale; and though I
called myself pretty well, I had no appetite for food, and was scarce
able to walk half a mile. Soon after, I was called to endure a long and
severe attack of illness, which brought me to the brink of the grave. I
was never so low in any former illness, and the doctor who attended me,
has since told me, that he had no hope of my recovery; and that when he
came to prescribe medicine for me, it was more out of regard to the
feelings of my husband, than from any prospect of its affording me
relief. I lay confined to my bed, week after week, unable to move,
except as Mr. Judson sometimes carried me in his arms from the bed to
the couch for a change; and even this once brought on a return of the
disease, which very nearly cost me my life. * * I never shall forget the
precious seasons enjoyed on that sick bed. Little George will tell you
about it, if you should ever see him. I think he will always remember
some sweet conversations I had with him, on the state of his soul, at
that time. Dear child! his mind was very tender, and he would weep on
account of his sins, and would kneel down and pray with all the fervor
and simplicity of childhood. He used to read the Bible to me every day,
and commit little hymns to memory by my bedside. * * It pleased my
Heavenly Father to raise me up again, although I was for a long time
very weak. As soon as I was able, I commenced riding on horseback, and
used to take a long ride every morning before sunrise. After a patient
trial, I found that riding improved my health; though many times I
should have become discouraged and given it up, but for the perseverance
of my husband. After riding almost every day, for four or five months, I
found my health so much improved, and gained strength so fast, that I
began to think walking might be substituted. About this time, my nice
little pony died, and we commenced a regular system of exercise on foot,
walking at a rapid pace, far over the hills beyond the town, before the
sun was up, every morning. We have continued this perseveringly up to
the present time; and, during these years, my health has been better
than at any time previous, since my arrival in India; and my
constitution seems to have undergone an entire renovation."