Harriet Bradford Stewart labored as a missionary at the Sandwich Islands. Amid this beautiful cluster of green spots in the bosom of the sea her efforts for human good were put forth; and here was the scene of her success, though not of her death.
The origin of the mission to the Sandwich Islands is somewhat peculiar. In 1809 two little boys shipped themselves on board of an American vessel bound for New York. They arrived at the great city, and, after residing there awhile, were taken to New Haven, Connecticut. They were fatherless, motherless children, with none to care for them; and their destitute, helpless condition soon drew the attention and won the sympathy of the Christian public. In a short time one of these youths was converted to God. Opukakia became a believer in the religion of Christ, and to the believers of our own land gave evidence of having passed from death unto life. Interest in these boys soon led to solemn inquiry into the condition of their country. This inquiry resulted in the establishment of a school for the instruction of heathen youth who were found in our land; and of the privileges of this school these two boys gladly availed themselves.
Shortly after they were taken to Andover and made acquainted with a class of young men who were about to graduate and go forth as heralds of salvation. Two members of that class soon determined on a missionary life, and selected these islands as the field of their labors. These young men were Hiram Bingham, and his classmate, Mr. Thurston. Their services were offered to the Board, and in 1819 were accepted. They were ordained at Goshen, Connecticut, and, under very solemn and impressive services, set apart to the work of the ministry.
On the 15th of October, 1819, in the vestry of Park Street Church, in Boston, they, with others, were organized into a church of the Lord Jesus. On the 23d of October this church set sail for the place of its destination—to the field of labor in which it was to thrive and flourish. Solemn was the scene, as on the wharf stood a company of beloved ones, who were leaving home and all the dear associations of youth for a barbarous nation. There, beneath the cool breath of autumn, they united in singing,—
"When shall we all meet again?When shall we all meet again?Oft shall wearied love retire,Oft shall glowing hope expire,Oft shall death and sorrow reign,Ere we all shall meet again."
The voyagers were commended to the "God of ocean and storm" by Rev. Dr. Worcester; the apostolic benediction was pronounced; and the vessel gayly pursued her way down the harbor, and was soon lost from sight.
After the usual pleasures and annoyances of "a life on the ocean wave," the company were made glad by beholding in the distance the green hills of the islands on the soil of which they were to labor and pray. They found the people, not as Judson and Newell found those to whom they were sent with the torch of truth, but ready to believe and embrace the gospel. The messengers they sent ashore were greeted with shouts of joy, and their wondering eyes turned to consuming idols and demolished temples. They found a nation without a religion, a government without a church, a court without an ecclesiastic. The people seemed sunk in barbarism. They had no schools, no books, no pens, no means of information. Gross darkness was over all the people, and the land was enveloped in appalling gloom.
Undismayed by the gross ignorance and encouraged by the abolition of idolatry, the servants of God went to work. They distributed themselves through the islands, and every where preached Jesus and the cross. The effects of their labors were so apparent that the American Board were encouraged to send out repeated reinforcements; and in the progress of time Mr. Stewart and his accomplished companion arrived at Hawaii on their sacred mission. Perhaps there is no mission station on the globe, no scene of missionary toil, where such glorious results have been accomplished, and such wonderful changes wrought, as at the Sandwich Islands. Mr. Bingham, speaking of the condition of the people at the time of his arrival among them, says, "The nation had, on our arrival, neither books, pen, nor pencil, for amusement or business, or for acquiring information or communicating thought. They sat, like Turks or tailors, on mats spread on the ground; dipped their fingers in the dish to eat their fish, poi, and dog flesh, without knife, fork, or spoon. They stretched themselves at full length on the mats to play cards or otherwise kill time. Their water they drank from a gourd shell; andawa, the juice of a narcotic root, chewed by others and mixed with water in the chewers' mouths, they drank, as their fathers had done, from a cocoa-nut shell, for the same purpose that other intoxicating drinks and liquors are taken."
That the nobles as well as the common people were thus degraded and uncivilized, we are referred to a description, given by the same writer, of the king, who, with the royal family, was invited on board the vessel which conveyed out the missionaries, "They came off in their double canoes, with wavingkahalisand a retinue of attendants. His majesty, according to the taste of the times, having amaio, or narrow girdle, around his waist, a green silken scarf over his shoulders, instead of coat, vest, and linen, a string of beads on his otherwise naked neck, and a feather wreath, or corona, on his head,—to say nothing of his being destitute of hat, gloves, shoes, stockings, and pants,—was introduced to the first company of white women whom he ever saw."
But the speedy change from drunkenness to sobriety, from ignorance to comparative intelligence, from theft and falsehood to honesty and truth, from shameless indecency to purity and chastity, from the violation of the whole ten commandments to the sacred observance of these ten, from barbarism to civilization and refinement, from brutish idolatry to the holy service of God, was astonishing even to those through whose instrumentality it was brought about.
Thirty years ago there was no church, no school house, no seminary of learning, no regard for the Sabbath, no thought of the great Jehovah: now all of these are found. The church tower lifts itself to heaven; the school and the seminary are sending abroad their instructions; the Sabbath is regarded by the mass of the people; and Jehovah is worshipped in spirit and in truth by thousands. During the year 1840 there were four thousand one hundred and seventy-nine additions to the church in the five islands; and since then conversions have been multiplied and converts have increased. The Bible has been printed, and edition after edition given to the perishing inhabitants, until thousands of them are rejoicing in the hope which it inspires. The whole temporal and spiritual condition of the people has changed. Christianity has made men of beasts, and lifted up the whole government in the scale of being.
Perhaps we can convey no better idea of the change which a few years' labor produced in the Sandwich Islands than by giving an extract of a letter, written by Rev. C. S. Stewart about the time of the death of his wife. It is a beautiful and thrilling description of a Sabbath in an island where, a few years before, was nothing but idol worship, heathen rites and ceremonies, and ignorant superstitions.
"At an early hour of the morning, even before we had taken our breakfast on board ship, a single person here and there, or a group of three or four, enveloped in their large mantles of various hues, might be seen wending their way among the groves fringing the bay on the east, or descending from the hills and ravines on the north towards the chapel; and by degrees their numbers increased, till in a short time every path along the beach and over the uplands presented an almost unbroken procession of both sexes and of every age, all pressing to the house of God.
"Even to myself it was a sight of surprise; not at the magnitude of the population, but that the object for which they were evidently assembling should bring together so great a multitude, when at this very place, only four years ago, the known wishes and example of chiefs of high authority, the daily persuasions of the teachers, added to motives of curiosity and novelty, could scarce induce a hundred of the inhabitants to give an irregular attendance on the services of the sanctuary. But now,—
'Like mountain torrents pouring to the main,From every glen a living stream came forth:Prom every hill in crowds they hasten downTo worship Him who deigns in humblest fane,On wildest shore, to meet the uprightin heart,'
"The scene, as looked on from our ship, in the stillness of a brightly-gleaming Sabbath morning, was well calculated, with its associations, to prepare the mind for strong impressions on a nearer view, when the conclusion of our own public worship should allow us to go on shore. Mr. Goodrich had apprised us that he found it expedient to hold the services of the Sabbath, usually attended at all the other stations at nine o'clock in the morning and at four in the afternoon, both in the fore part of the day, that all might have the benefit of two sermons and yet reach home before nightfall; for
'Numbers dwelt remote,And first must traverse many a weary mileTo reach the altar of the God they love.'
"It was near twelve o'clock when we went on shore. Though the services had commenced when we landed, large numbers were seen circling the doors without; but, as we afterward found, from the impossibility of obtaining places within. The house is an immense structure, capable of containing many thousands, every part of which was filled except a small area in front of the pulpit, where seats were reserved for us, and to which we made our way in slow and tedious procession, from the difficulty of finding a spot even to place our footsteps without treading on the limbs of the people, seated on their feet as closely almost as they could be stowed.
"As we entered, Mr. G. paused in his sermon till we could be seated. I ascended the pulpit beside him, from which I had a full view of the congregation. The suspense of attention in the people was only of momentary duration, notwithstanding the entire novelty of the laced coats, cocked hats, and other appendages of naval uniform. I can scarce describe the emotions experienced in glancing an eye over the immense number, seated so thickly on the matted floor as to seem literally one mass of heads, covering an area of more than nine thousand square feet. The sight was most striking, and soon became, not only to myself, but to some of my fellow-officers, deeply affecting.
"With the exception of the inferior chiefs having charge of the district and their dependants, of two or three native members of the church and of the mission family, scarce one of the whole multitude was in any other than the native dress—themaro, thekihee, and the simpletapa, of their primitive state. In this respect, and in the attitude of sitting, the assembly was purely pagan; totally unlike those of the Society Islands; as unlike as to one at home. But the breathless silence, the eager attention, the half-suppressed sigh, the tear, the various feeling—sad, peaceful, joyous—discoverable in the faces of many, all spoke the presence of an invisible but omnipotent Power—the Power that can alone melt and renew the heart of man, even as it alone brought it first into existence."
Turning from the changes which have been wrought in these islands,—on which we have, perhaps, lingered too long already,—we turn to one through whose efforts a part of this work has been accomplished.
Harriet B. Tiffany was a native of Stamford, Connecticut. She was born on the 24th day of June, 1798. Her parents were honorably descended from an illustrious line, and Harriet inherited many of the noble qualities of her ancestors. Her youth was passed mostly in Stamford, Albany, and Cooperstown, in which places she endeared herself by many acts of kindness to all who knew her, and grew up to womanhood cherished and loved by all who came within the circle of her influence. In 1819 she passed through that mysterious change which is denominated regeneration. Repeated afflictions, the death of friends, and her own sickness led her to feel the need of a strong arm and a firm hope. Feeling the emptiness of earth, the vanity of human life, even in its best estate, she turned to Him who can give support to the soul in the hours of its dark night and guide it amid the gloom. By faith she saw the crucified One, and rested her sorrows and griefs on Him who was able to bear them. She was changed from darkness to light, from sin to holiness, from death to life.
The great subject of a missionary life was presented to her view, connected with a proposal to accompany Rev. C.S. Stewart to the Sandwich Islands as his assistant and companion. With trembling anxiety she submitted the case to the wise discretion of her Father in heaven: on earth she had none. As may be supposed, it was no easy thing for a young lady of high and honorable connections, who had always been surrounded with friends and educated in the circle of refinement and luxury, to leave all these. There were tender ties to be riven, fond associations to be broken up, dear friends to part with, and a loved home to leave behind; and when the momentous question was brought distinctly before her mind, it required a strong faith, a firm dependence on God, an entire submission to his will to induce her to take the solemn and important step; but, believing herself called upon by God, she decided in his favor, and lost sight of the sacrifice and self-denial of the undertaking.
She resolved to go—to go, though home was to be abandoned, friends to be left, loved scenes deserted, and a life of toil to be endured. She resolved to go—to go, though she might pass through a sea of tears, and at last leave her enfeebled body upon a couch that would have no kind friends to surround it when she died. She resolved to go, though she should find in savage lands a lowly grave.
She was married to Mr. Stewart. in the city of Albany, on the 3d of June, 1822. Mr. Stewart had already been appointed as a missionary, and was to go out to the Sandwich Islands under the care of the American Board. They sailed in company with a large number of others who were destined for the same laborious but delightful service. The sun of the 19th of November went down on many homes from which glad spirits had departed on their errand of mercy to a dying world; and on that day the eye of many a parent gazed upon the form of the child for the last time. Nor could a vessel leave our shores, having on her decks nearly thirty missionaries, without being followed by the prayers of more than the relatives of those who had departed. There was mingled joy and sorrow throughout the churches of New England, as the gales of winter wafted the gospel-freighted vessel to her distant destination.
They arrived, in April of the following year, at Honolulu; and, after a residence of a few days, located themselves at Lahaina, a town containing about twenty-five thousand inhabitants, who were mostly in a degraded condition. Here they found but few of the conveniences of life, and were obliged to live in little huts, which afforded but slight shelter from the scorching heat or the pelting rain. In these miserable tenements did the child of luxury and wealth reside, and in perfect contentment perform the duties of her station. She suffered, but did not complain; she labored hard, but was not weary; and, cheerful in her lot, smiled even at her privations and sorrows.
In 1825 her health began to fail. Unable longer to labor for her perishing heathen sisters, she sailed for England in order to enjoy medical advice and care; but instead of improving by the voyage, she continued to decline, until the hopelessness of her case became apparent. She embarked for America in July, 1826, her residence of a few months in England having rendered her no permanent benefit. In her low state the voyage was any thing but agreeable; and she arrived among her friends the mere shadow of what she was when, a few years before, she had gone forth in the flush of youth and the vigor of health.
For a time after her arrival strong hopes were cherished that she might recover. The balmy breezes of her own native valley, the kind congratulations of friends, the interest and excitement of a return to the scenes of youth gave color to her cheek and life to her step. But in the early part of 1830 the prospect of returning health was dashed, and Death appeared in all his terror. Long was her last sickness—so long that she groaned to depart and be with Christ. For many months she suffered and struggled on a weary bed, until the spirit call was heard, and golden gates were opened, and the ransomed one entered in. During this sickness she was sustained by the grace of God. Death found her ready, and led awillingvictim down into the sepulchre, who exclaimed, as she entered it, "O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory?"
Racked with pain and tortured by disease she murmured not, but, as each new cup of sorrow was put to her lips, meekly replied, "The cup which my Father hath mingled, shall I not drink it?" She was a remarkable instance of Christian submission and resignation under sufferings, and left behind her, to surviving friends, the joyful evidence that she had passed away to rest.
"Spirit, leave thy house of clay;Lingering dust, resign thy breath;Spirit, cast thy cares away;Dust, be thou dissolved in death.Thus the mighty Savior speaksWhile the faithful Christian dies;Thus the bonds of life he breaks,And the ransomed captive flies."
Since the death of Mrs. Stewart at Cooperstown, the work of civilization and reformation in the Sandwich Islands has been rapidly progressing. The faith of the Church has been strong and confident, and she has exerted herself to save those islands from barbarism and ignorance. In her holy strength, and with her high commission, she has sent out her servants armed with the whole Christian armor. These men and women have preached Jesus and the cross with wonderful success. Struggling against the tide of obstacles and the barriers which sin raised in their pathway, they have advanced until they have caused an entire change in the customs and the religion of the people.
Nor have the natives been unwilling to render their assistance. They have cooperated with the missionaries, and nobly exerted themselves to bring the islands under Christian influences. Their efforts to erect temples in which they and their children may worship the only living and true God illustrate the zeal with which they toiled to accomplish good. Speaking of the large stone church at Honolulu,—a church which cost twenty thousand dollars, and required the labor of many men for six long years to finish it,—Mr. Bingham says, "In the erection of this stately edifice, the active men, among about one thousand communicants of that church, having divided into five companies, labored by rotation many days and weeks with patience and zeal."
Of the labor given to the erection of a house of worship at Kealakekua, the same work furnishes us with the following particulars:—
"The stones were carried upon the shoulders of men forty or fifty rods. The coral for making the lime they procured by diving in two or three fathom water and detaching blocks, or fragments. If these were too heavy for the diver to bring up to his canoe with his hands, he ascended to the surface to take breath, then descended with a rope, attached it to his prize, and, mounting to his canoe, heaved up the mass from the bottom, and, when the canoe was thus laden, rowed it ashore and discharged his freight. By this process they procured about thirty cubic fathoms, or seven thousand seven hundred and seventy-six cubic feet. To burn this mass, the church members brought from the mountain side, upon their shoulders, forty cords of wood. The lime being burned, the women took it in calabashes, or large gourd shells, and bore it on their shoulders to the place of building; also sand and water for making the mortar. Thus about seven hundred barrels each of lime, sand, and water, making about two thousand barrels, equal to three hundred and fifty wagon loads, were carried by women a quarter of a mile, to assist the men in building the temple of the Lord, which they desired to see erected for themselves and for their children—a heavy service, which they, their husbands, fathers, sons, had not the means of hiring nor teams to accomplish. The latter had other work far more laborious to perform for the house. The sills, posts, beams, rafters, &c., which they cut in the mountains, six to ten miles distant, they drew down by hand. The posts and beams required the strength of forty to sixty men each. Such a company, starting at break of day, with ropes in hand, and walking two or three hours through the fern and underbrush loaded with the cold dew, made fast to their timber, and, addressing themselves to their sober toil for the rest of the day, dragged it over beds of lava, rocks, ravines, and rubbish, reaching the place of building about sunset."
Mr. Conn gives the following amusing account of the industry and willingness of the people in church building at Waiakea, Hilo: "I have often gone with them to the forest, laid hold of the rope, and dragged timber with them from morning to night. On such occasions we usually, on our arrival at the timber to be drawn, unite in prayer, and then, fastening to the stick, proceed to work. Dragging timber in this way is exceedingly wearisome, especially if there be not, as is often the case, a full complement of hands. But what is wanting in numbers is often supplied in the tact and management of the natives, some of whom are expert in rallying, stimulating, and cheering their comrades, by sallies of wit, irony, and, if the expression is allowable, of good-natured sarcasm. The manner of drawing is quite orderly and systematic. They choose one of their number for a leader. This done, the leader proceeds to use his vocal powers by commanding all others to put theirs to rest. He then arranges his men on each side of the rope, like artillerists at the drag rope. Every man is commanded to grasp the rope firmly with both hands, straighten it, and squat down, inclined a little forward. The leader then passes from rear to front, and from front to rear, reviewing the line to see that every man grasps the rope. All is now still as the grave for a moment, when the commander, or marshal of the day, roars out in a stentorian voice, 'Kauo, draw!' Every one then rises, and away dashes the timber, through thicket and mud, over lava and streamlet, under a burning sun or amidst drenching rain. No conversation is allowed except by the marshal, who seems to feel it his privilege, during his incumbency, to make noise enough for all."
In this toilsome way most if not all the houses for the public worship of God have been erected; and most of them being of enduring materials, they will stand for many years as monuments of the devotion, self-sacrificing industry, and sincere piety of the Sandwich Island Christians. A people having this spirit, and animated with such a love for Christ and his worship, could not fail in being successful while armed with gospel truth. Before such noble workmen all obstacles will vanish, all barriers will be broken down, all opposition will be overcome. Were the members of the church in Christian lands willing to make such sacrifices and perform such labors, a half century would not roll away ere the voice of the missionary would be heard in every valley and on every hill top of the globe. Were the Christians of one single denomination willing to lay hold upon the "drag rope" of Christian missions, and emulate the conduct of the poor, degraded Sandwich Islanders, in their efforts to build temples of worship, they would see the car of salvation moving on gloriously, and, ere long, would listen to the shout of a redeemed world.
The Christians of these islands seem to resemble the early disciples of our dear Savior. Their simple and unostentatious piety, their firm, manly devotion to truth, and steady resistance to error, their willingness to leave all for Christ, reminds us of the disciples of Antioch and Rome, who perilled life and happiness to prove their devotion to the cross. Perhaps nowhere in our times have converts from heathenism to Christianity displayed more of the primitive spirit, and developed more of the primitive virtues, than the once despised, idolatrous, blinded inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands. The language of each heart seems to be,—
"Jesus, I my cross have taken,All to leave and follow thee;Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,Only thou my leader be."
In the language with which Mr. Bingham closes his full and valuable history, we close this sketch of the Sandwich Islands and of one of the most intelligent and gifted females ever sent to them:—
"A nation has been raised from blank heathenism to a rank among enlightened nations, to the enjoyment of letters and laws, of Christianity and the hope of heavenly glory. Whatever troubles may yet assail them, there is ground to rejoice that the foundation of the spiritual temple of Jehovah has there been firmly laid, and its superstructure commenced, which is to rise in future generations. The builders there and elsewhere have many adversaries; but the benignant Lamb shall overcome them. His servants must be multiplied, and many a heart, constrained by the love of Christ, will be found to say,—
'The voice of my departed Lord, "Go teach all nations,"Comes on the night air, and awakes my ear.'
"If the American Board and its friends and laborers have not done too much for that nation in a generation past,—and who will say they have toiled or expended too much?—those who are on the Lord's side, grateful for what the Lord haswroughtthere, will be encouraged to attempt and expect the same or 'greater things than these' for other nations, till in every tongue they shall harmoniously hymn the Messiah's praise, and earth's ransomed millions shall swell the strain which these converted islanders have recently learned and gratefully adopted:—
'E ke Ola, Lua ole!E ukuia kou make e:Lanakila kou aloha;Nau 'na mamo, e maha 'i:Make oe i mau ohua—Nou ko makou mau naau;Nou ka ikiaka;—Nou na uhane;—Nou ka nani oia mau.'
'O Redeemer, matchless, glorious,Let thy anguish be repaid;Reigning, make thy love victorious;In thy seed be satisfied:Thou wast slain, blessed Lamb, to win us;Let us live and die for thee;Worthy thou of all within us;Thine shall endless glory be.'"
There are some spots on earth more hallowed than others. There are consecrated cities and towns, from which, as we approach them, we seem to hear a voice, saying, "Put off thy shoes; for the spot whereon thou treadest is holy ground."
Such are the places in which Christ our Savior lived, and preached, and suffered while incarnate. Such are the places where his immediate successors, the apostles and martyrs, contended so earnestly for the faith delivered to the saints. Jerusalem, Bethany, Bethlehem, Corinth, Ephesus, Antioch, and Rome will be associated forever, in the minds of Christians, with the early progress and triumphs of our holy religion; and the pious traveller will never visit those places without feeling his bosom thrill with tender and intense emotions.
On this account the mission in Syria is one of peculiar interest. Founded almost within sight of Calvary, it is surrounded with many scenes of dear and hallowed interest; and it requires but little effort of the imagination to recall the song of the infant church, as it arose from vale and glen, vibrating on the air and echoing back from hoary Lebanon. It was with the mission in this place that the amiable, talented, and beloved subject of this article was connected.
Sarah Lanman Huntington was the daughter of Jabez Huntington, Esq. She was born in Norwich, Connecticut, on the 18th of June, 1802, and in that beautiful town passed through the period of childhood. She was educated with missionary sympathies and feelings. All the circumstances under which she was placed were calculated to invest the holy enterprise with sacred pleasantness. In her father's house she never heard a word of reproach breathed forth against the cause itself or the devoted men and women engaged in it. She traced her descent from the famous John Robinson, of Leyden, whose blood came flowing down through a long missionary line until it coursed in her veins. Her grandfather was a member of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions; and all her relatives on the side of father and mother were active promoters of the work of God.
Under such influences Sarah grew up, believing that it was far more honorable to do good to man, to be the means of reclaiming the wanderer from the path of duty, or to bring a sinner back to God, than to found an empire, or establish a throne, or conquer an army of steel-clad warriors, or lead in triumph captive kings and princes. Before her conversion, she was aware of the divine character of the work which had just commenced; and doubtless her young heart responded to the appeals made by the death of Harriet Newell and the life of Ann H. Judson.
During the first twelve years of her life there appears to be nothing unusual in her history. She was like other thoughtful and pleasant girls of her age, and spent her time in the amusements and pursuits of youth. At school she was industrious, studious, but not remarkably rapid in her progress; at home she was fondly loved and cherished; but in the minds of her parents she never appeared to be aprodigyor agenius.
At the age of twelve she became the subject of the Spirit's influence. Her mind was drawn to divine things and her heart touched by the finger of God. On the 10th of August, 1820, she realized for the first time the blessedness of full and free forgiveness. The Savior was precious to her soul, and holy duties were pleasant and delightful. She had passed from the deep waters of conviction, and gladly placed her feet on the Rock of Ages, where she stood immovable. Her joy knew no bounds. Liberated from sin, free from the dreadful weight of guilt and condemnation, pardoned by God and loved by Christ, she deemed no praises too exalted, no trials too severe to endure in return. She immediately recognized the great principle that "we are not our own," and acted upon it; and life became from that hour devoted to holy employments and useful pursuits.
Writing to one of her friends about this time, she says, "All is changed. I am in a new world of thought and feeling. I begin to live anew. Even our beautiful Norwich has new charms, and, in sympathy with my joyousness, wears a new, a lovelier, aspect."
The vows which she made, as she passed through the "strait gate" and entered the kingdom of heaven, did not consist of words alone. They were engraven on her heart and carried out in her life as well as recorded on high. Ceaselessly she sought out ways in which she might do good to the bodies and the souls of her fellow-creatures; and what her hands found to do, she did with her might. In 1827 she formed a plan to benefit the Mohegan Indians, who lived a few miles from Norwich. These Indians were the remnant of a once mighty tribe; and the proud blood of some of their rude chieftains of former times coursed through the veins of these tattered and ragged descendants. From hut to hut she visited among these degraded children of the forest; started a Sabbath school, of which she and another young lady were the sole teachers; provided books for those who could read; and in many ways conferred benefits upon them. Not satisfied with this, she determined to build a church and secure the services of a missionary; and for this purpose wrote to several of her influential friends, to secure their coöperation and sympathy. For aid in her work of benevolence she also applied to the legislature of Connecticut and to the general government. To a considerable extent she was successful, and obtained the esteem and gratitude of that forlorn and oppressed people.
The manner in which she visited among the people gives us an insight into the character of the woman, and furnishes us with a clew to her future success. She usually rode from Norwich on horseback, and, taking a little girl with her into the saddle, passed from house to house, using the child as guide, interpreter, and adviser. When she met in the road a few ragged natives or a knot of men and women she would stop her horse and converse a while with them, and slip a tract into the hand of each, and with a smile pass on. In this way she gained the confidence and love of the poor people who lived in ignorance and degradation within sight of the towers and temples of New England towns and cities.
At times the mind of Miss H. was much exercised in relation to a mission in the western part of our own country. The gathering thousands who were pouring in from every quarter of the world, the future influence of the west upon the nation, the wide field of usefulness there presented, were all inducements for her to go forth and labor amid the mountains and on the broad prairies which extend towards the shores of the Pacific Ocean.
The idea of laboring in the west was abandoned in 1833, during which year she resolved to accompany Rev. Eli Smith to his field of toil in Syria. The opportunity presented by the offer of Mr. Smith was what Miss H. most earnestly desired. Her heart was set on doing good; and no spot on earth could have been selected more in accordance with her tastes and feelings. The long-cherished purpose could now be accomplished; and, after due consultation with her friends, she was married on the 21st of July, in the midst of her associates, at Norwich.
On the 29th of August the parting between child and parents took place, and Mrs. Smith left the home of her infancy forever, and, after visiting the friends of her husband in Boston, embarked from that place for Malta, on the 21st of September, in the brig George, commanded by Captain Hallet.
The scene on board the vessel was peculiarly solemn. After the missionaries had arrived and the people had assembled on the deck and on the wharf, all united in singing that grand hymn,—
"Roll on, thou mighty ocean;And, as thy billows flow,Bear messengers of mercyTo every land below."
Rev. Dr. Jenks then led in prayer, commending the servants of God to the gracious care of Him who sitteth on high; after which the brig was loosened from her moorings and floated down the harbor, while the little cluster of missionaries on board sung sweetly the beautiful hymn of Heber,—
"From Greenland's icy mountains,From India's coral strand."
The sorrowful friends remained standing upon the wharf until the vessel which contained the loved ones had faded from sight, and with its precious freight was far out upon the deceptive ocean.
After a fine voyage of fifty-four days the missionaries landed at Malta, and proceeded to Beyroot, via Alexandria. They arrived at Beyroot on the 28th of January, 1834. The sketch of their voyage, given by Mrs. Smith herself and found in her published memoir, is of intense interest. The objects of interest were so numerous, the mind of the voyager so well prepared to appreciate them, that a journey on land could scarcely have been more delightful. The heaving Atlantic; the calm, bright Mediterranean; the Azore Islands; the long coast of Africa; the Straits of Gibraltar; the stay at Malta; the visits to convents, temples, and other places of resort; the city of Alexandria; the Mahometan Sabbath; the grave of Parsons; the passage to Beyroot, and the safe arrival,—were all calculated to enlist the feelings of such a woman, with such a mind, as Mrs. Smith, She arrived at her new residence at Beyroot on the 28th of January, 1834. The town lies at the foot of the "goodly mountain," Lebanon, and, to the approaching traveller, presents a scene of beauty seldom equalled. Descending gently from the south, the whole town seems like one vast garden, with houses half covered by the thick foliage, and cottages of Oriental style, of brown or yellow appearance, peeping through the overhanging trees, or standing in the centre of a well-cultivated spot, like a temple in the heart of a city. Away beyond is Lebanon, stretching its sunny ridges from north to south, and lifting its peaks until they bathe their foreheads in the clouds. On its sides are seen the cottage, and here and there a cluster of human habitations, forming little villages, which delight the eye and give beauty to the prospect. Every thing, to a native of Europe or America, is unique and strange, and has an air of richness and productiveness which surprises while it charms. The birds, the beasts, the insects are, to a lover of natural beauty, sources of study and profit; and the refined mind could scarcely find a more delightful spot as a field of missionary exertion.
The inhabitants did not correspond with the outward scenery. Though the people kindly welcomed them, the missionaries found a wide difference in the habits and customs of the European and the Arab; and brought into connection with the latter, as they were every hour of the day, the contrast was continually before the mind.
Besides this, the missionary cannot live on the same equality with the people as can other classes of European or American residents. Thetradercan close his doors and have his family circles sacred from the intrusion of officious, meddlesome natives; but this course would defeat the very object which themissionaryhas in view. It would shut him out from the confidence and sympathy of those whose hearts he wished to reach. It would place between him and the heathen a barrier which would be insurmountable. So our sister found it at Beyroot. She had no house which she could properly call her own; for at times, while she was least prepared and while visits were least desirable, her house would be invaded by a company of five or six women, who would remain a long time, asking questions and prying into a hundred things which did not concern them.
And yet Mrs. Smith felt that these annoyances must be endured with cheerfulness; and when patience was almost wearied out, and time which belonged to herself and her family was taken up by such persons, she would console herself that such privations and trials were parts of the missionary work, which must be endured cheerfully for the sake of Jesus.
The manners, customs, and dresses of the people at Beyroot served to remind the Christian of the times of Christ, and led back the imagination through the lapse of eighteen hundred years to the thrilling events which transpired throughout the Holy Land.
So few are the improvements made in art and agriculture that one can easily fancy himself in the middle of the first century, gazing upon the people who from apostolic lips listened to the words of life and salvation; and under this almost irresistible impression the solemnity of Gethsemane and Calvary gathers over the soul, and throws a divine enchantment over the life and labors of the men of God. So our sister felt, as the Oriental costumes passed before her, as she looked out from her window upon the sides of the snow-covered Lebanon.
The situation of Mrs. Smith was not at all like that of many other devoted servants of God. She was not compelled to break up the fallow ground, or be the first to drop the Seed into the soil. Others had preceded her—they had prepared the way—they had erected the kindly shelter—they had opened the heathen mind to receive light and truth. Hence, on her arrival, she found all the comforts and conveniences of a civilized community—she found a most beautiful and romantic residence, a land teeming with all the hallowed associations of sacred history.
Called by God, not to the dungeons of Ava, not to the damp and monster-covered banks of the Irrawaddy, but to a more congenial field of labor, she toiled on in it with pleasure.
Mrs. Smith spent most of the time in her school, which was commenced soon after her arrival, and for a while was "the only schoolmistress in all Syria." The school house, which was erected upon a plan of her own, was filled by a large number of children of Egyptian, Arabian, and Turkish parents, who, under the care of their faithful teacher, made considerable progress. To instruct the little, ignorant children, explain to them the mysteries of science, and lead them upward to the God who made them, was a task for which she was well adapted. Being an ardent lover of the beautiful and grand in nature, she made the green fields, the blooming vineyards, the high, towering mountain all subservient to the purposes of instruction. Her residence among the Mohegans prepared her for her duties in Syria, and gave her the advantage of an experience which she could have acquired nowhere else. In the Sabbath school she was also most happily employed in instructing the fifteen or twenty children who attended in the path of holiness. Under her labors the school gradually and constantly increased, and a visible change for good was observed among the pupils. Her kindness and affection won the hearts even of the Moslem parents, who, in repeated instances, disobeyed the direction of their priests, and kept their children under her care after the school had been condemned.
One of the most pleasant circumstances connected with the missionary life of Mrs. Smith was her visit to the Holy Land in 1835. From early childhood she had regarded with a feeling of veneration the city of Jerusalem. That was the city in which many of the Savior's miracles were done; there he had healed the sick, cast out devils, raised the dead, and performed many other wonderful works; there was the temple; there the scene of trial, and the streets along which the cross was borne; there, near at hand, was the Garden of Gethsemane, the Mount of Olives, and on the other side of the city the Hill of Calvary on which the Savior was crucified. When, therefore, she found herself on her journey to the most noted spot in the wide world, emotions of solemn and pleasing interest crowded upon her mind. As she passed along, one object of interest after another presented itself. Tyre and Sidon were seen; and the spot whereon Sarepta once stood was crossed. Her feet traversed the mountains of Galilee, and stood upon the summit of Carmel, Gerizim, Tabor, Hermon, Lebanon, Olivet, and Calvary. She visited the spots where tradition tells us the Savior perished and where his sufferings were endured; and doubtless her imagination brought back the scenes of the past, and she might have heard the low, silvery tones of mercy and grace as they flowed from the lips of "Him who spake as never man spake."
After visiting the prominent places of the Holy Land, our missionary returned again to her station at Beyroot, where she labored with untiring diligence until June, 1836, when, her health failing, she set sail with her husband for Smyrna, with the delusive hope of regaining it. At this point her sufferings commenced. The vessel in which they sailed was old and uncomfortable; the crew and some of the passengers were any thing but agreeable; and horrid profanity was heard instead of prayer and praise. The fifth night after leaving Beyroot the vessel was wrecked on the north side of the Island of Cyprus, and the voyagers escaped with their lives. After many hardships and much danger they landed on a sandy shore in an almost destitute condition, and, after continuing on the island some days, obtained passage towards the place of their destination. The vessel on board which they sailed was a Turkish lumberman, and in no way adapted to the conveyance of passengers. But, submitting to stern necessity, they made the best improvement of the circumstances under which they were placed. Of the voyage Mr. Smith says, "The wind was high, and, being contrary to the current, raised a cross and troublous sea. The vessel was terribly tossed, and, being slightly put together, threatened to founder at almost every plunge. Mrs. Smith, besides rolling to and fro for want of something to support her against the motion, was writhing under violent seasickness, which, instead of allaying, served only to increase her cough. She had some fears that she should not survive the night; and for a time I did not know what would be the end of her sufferings."
They arrived at Smyrna in thirty-three days after they left Beyroot. Here her strength gradually failed. The consumption which was wasting her body and drawing her down to the grave made visible advances; and on the 30th of September, 1836, she died in the triumphs of faith, at Boojah, a quiet little village about five miles from Smyrna.
In her sickness she gave the most cheering illustrations of the power of the Christian faith to subdue fear and disarm death. Her mind was lifted up above the sufferings of her lot, and she held constant intercourse with the Savior of her soul. To a great extent she was free from pain, and enabled to converse with her husband upon the prospect before her. She waited for death with pleasure, and was ready at any hour to depart and be with Jesus. To die was gain, unspeakable gain; and she knew it well. Hence, when her physician and friends would whisper words of hope, she would plainly tell them that her work was done, her mission fulfilled, and the sand of her glass almost run out. It gave her more pleasure to look forward to a meeting with the loved men and women who had departed than to contemplate an existence on the earth, where storms will disturb the fairest prospect, and clouds will shut out the rays of the noonday sun.
On the Sabbath before her death she sung, in company with her husband, the hymn,—
"Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love;But there's a nobler rest above;To that our longing souls aspireWith cheerful hope and strong desire."
At twenty minutes before eight o'clock she died, with a countenance all illuminated with smiles, which, after she ceased to speak, played upon her features, and by their silent eloquence whispered to every beholder, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."
On the following day, as the tidings spread through Smyrna that the sainted woman was at rest, the flags of the American vessels in the harbor were seen lowering to half mast, and that upon the dwelling of the consul was shrouded with the drapery of death.
On the 1st of October she was carried to the grave. The service of the English church was read beside the corpse, and in one common grief the people stood bending over it, while the beautiful hymn of Dr. Watts was sung:—
"Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb;Take this new treasure to thy trust;And give these sacred relics roomTo slumber in the silent dust."
The tidings came echoing across the deep, and in our homes the story of death was told; and sadness filled the pious heart as the thought that another servant of God, another heroine of the church, had fallen at her post, a martyr in the cause of truth. The American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions felt deeply the loss which had been sustained, and mourned for one whose piety, intellect, and labors were abundant.
Here endeth the missionary toils of two years and four months; and, uttering words of peace to the fallen, we bid farewell to her memory until death shall call us to join the blessed throng of the ransomed whose names are recorded on high.
"Who would not wish to die like thoseWhom God's own Spirit deigns to bless?To sink into that soft repose,Then wake to perfect happiness."