In 1824 news reached America of the breaking out of war between Burmah and British India. This of course excited the most anxious interest for the fate of the Americans in that country. At length anxiety was somewhat relieved by the intelligence that Messrs. Wade and Hough with their families, who had remained at Rangoon, were, after dreadful sufferings, safe under British protection. But over the fate of Mr. and Mrs. Judson hung the silence of death, or of a suspense worse than death, for more than two years, until hope itself died in the hearts of their friends and kindred.
But although in this long period of doubt and darkness, busy fancy had pictured many scenes of terror and many forms of violent death, as the possible lot of the missionaries; yet in her wildest nights she never could have conceived of the terrible reality which they endured, not for days and weeks only, but foreighteenweary months. The wildest tale of fiction has never depicted more cruel anguish, more appalling suffering borne with more heroic energy, and more sublime fortitude—the wildest fiction would not dare to portray woman's love and faith and Christian hope, so long triumphant over insult and outrage, and torture and death itself. Who after reading the following narrative of an heroic female's unparalleled endurance, will ever say that woman's is a feeble nature, incapable of withstanding the rude shocks of adverse fortune? Nay, who will not rather say, that in woman, hope and faith, and fortitude and energy, make even the frailbodyimmortal, till her labor of love is accomplished, and its cherished object is rescued from peril?
"The war which now broke out between the Burman government and that of the English in Bengal, forms an important era in the history of the mission.
"Its first effect was to put an end to the labors of the missionaries, and involve them in unspeakable sufferings, yet in accordance with a mysterious though beneficent law of human affairs, its ultimate issues have proved favorable not only to the interests of that particular mission, but also to the further extension of Christian civilization among the thickly peopled countries of Eastern India. The war had its origin in feuds which had long existed on the frontiers of Chittagong." Some Burman criminals had escaped to that territory, where as it was alleged they were protected by British power. The Burman monarch determined to chastise the English by making war on their government, and had raised thirty thousand troops under the command of his greatest warrior Bandula; but the East India Company anticipated his movements, and landed their forces at Rangoon so suddenly and unexpectedly, that the city fell into their hands with scarcely a show of resistance. This was the first news that reached Ava of the commencement of hostilities. It surprised the court there, but by no means alarmed them. Never having come into collision with the English, and having the most extravagant conceit of their own invincibility, they did not for a moment doubt their power to drive the invaders from their country; and even sent by one of their generals a pair of golden fetters with which to chain the governor-general, and bring him captive to Ava.
The first effect of the intelligence of the war upon the situation of the missionaries, was an order that no man wearing a hat should enter the palace. This was somewhat startling, still nothing of importance occurred for several weeks, during which Mrs. J. continued her school, while her husband went on building a house. But at length suspicion having been excited that the Englishmen who resided in Ava were spies, they wereseized and put in confinement. Dr. Price and Mr. Judson were strictly examined also, but nothing being proved against them, they were left at liberty. They might probably have escaped further molestation, had it not been found in examining the accounts of one of the Englishmen, that he had paid over considerable money to the missionaries. Ignorant of money transactions as carried on by foreigners, this was an evidence to the natives, that the teachers were in the pay of the British, and probably spies. This being represented to the king, he gave an angry order for their arrest.
On the 8th of June, Mr. Judson's house was rudely entered by an officer, followed by eight or ten men, one of whom, by the hideous tattooing on his face, they knew to be the executioner, or 'son of the prison.' On seeing Mr. Judson—"You are called by the king," said the officer, the usual form of arrest. In an instant the spotted-faced man threw him on the floor, and drew forth that instrument of torture, the small cord. Mrs. Judson tried in vain to bribe him with money. "Take her too," said the officer, "she also is a foreigner." But this order Mr. Judson prevailed on them to disregard. All was now confusion and dismay, the children crying, the neighbors collecting around and in the house, while the executioner bound Mr. Judson with the cords, and took a fiendish pleasure in making them as tight as possible. Mrs. Judson gave Moung Ing money that he might follow and procure a mitigation of this torture, instead of which, Mr. Judson was again thrown down, and the cords so tightened as almost to prevent respiration. Then he was hurried on to the court-house, thence to "the death prison," into which he was hurled, and Moung Ing saw him no more.
We may imagine the intolerable agony of Mrs. Judson when the faithful disciple returned with the sad news of his master's fate. Retiring to her room, she tried to find consolation in casting her dreadful burden of fear and suspense on her covenant God. But soon her retirement was invaded by the magistrate of the place, who ordered her to come out and submit to an examination. Of course she was obliged to obey, but before doing so she destroyed every writing she possessed, letters, journals, everything, lest her correspondence with her British friends should confirm the suspicions of their persecutors. When the magistrate had satisfied himself with the examination, he placed a guard of ten ruffians about the house, with orders that no one should enter or leave it on pain of death.
Taking her four little Burman girls into an inner room she barred the door, and obstinately refused to come out, although the guard, bent on tormenting her,threatened to break the door down if she did not. She prevented this outrage by a threat to complain of their conduct in the morning to higher authorities, but in revenge they bound her two Bengalee servants fast in the stocks in a most painful posture. By bribes and promises she at length induced them to release the servants; but their dreadful carousings, and horrid language, combined with her suspense in regard to her husband's fate, rendered that long night one of unmitigated wretchedness.
In the morning, Moung Ing, whom she had sent to the prison, returned with the intelligence that all the white foreigners were in the death-prison chained with three pairs of fetters each to a pole, to prevent their moving! "The point of anguish now was," she says, "that I was a prisoner myself, and could make no efforts for their relief." She earnestly but vainly begged the magistrate to allow her to go and state the case to some government officer; she even wrote a letter to the queen's sister, who was civil, but afraid to interfere in their behalf. "The day," she says, "wore heavily away, and another dreadful night was before me. I endeavored to soften the feelings of the guard, by giving them tea and segars for the night; so that they allowed me to remain inside my room, without threatening as they did the night before." But, haunted by the idea of her dear husband's tortures, which shewas neither permitted to share nor alleviate, she of course passed another night of anguish.
The next day she sent a message to the governor of the city, to allow her to visit him with a present. This was successful, and the guards had orders to permit her to go into town. She was pleasantly received, stated the situation of the teachers, and assured the governor that being not Englishmen but Americans, they had nothing to do with the war. She was referred to a head officer with whom she might consult as to the means of making the prisoners more comfortable;but their release was out of the question. The first sight of this officer, whose face exhibited the working of every evil passion, inspired her with dread, but he was the only one who could assist her. "He took me aside, and endeavored to convince me that myself, as well as the prisoners, was entirely at his disposal—that our future comfort must depend on my liberality in regard to presents—and that these must be made in a private way, and unknown to any officer of government! What must I do, said I, to obtain a mitigation of the sufferings of the two teachers? 'Pay to me,' said he, 'two hundred tickals, (about a hundred dollars,) two pieces of fine cloth, and two pieces of handkerchiefs.' At length however he consented to take what money she had about her, which was a considerable sum, and promised to relieve theteachers from their most painful situation. She goes on:
"I then procured an order from the governor for my admittance into the prison, but the sensation produced by meeting my husband in thatwretched, horridsituation, and the scene that ensued, I shall not attempt to describe. He crawled to the door of the prison—for I was never allowed to enter—gave me some directions relative to his release; but before we could make any arrangement, I was ordered to depart by those iron-hearted jailers, who could not endure to see us enjoy the poor consolation of meeting in that miserable place. In vain I pleaded the order of the governor for my admittance; they again harshly repeated, 'Depart, or we will pull you out.'" The same evening all the foreigners succeeded, by the payment of money, in being removed from the common prison to an open shed, where Mrs. Judson was allowed to send them food, and mats to sleep on, but for some days was not permitted to see them.
Nothing but her own eloquent words can do justice to the transactions that followed. We copy as before from her letter, written two years subsequent to these events, to her brother-in-law, Dr. Judson.
"My next object was to get a petition presented to the queen, but no person being admitted into the palace who was in disgrace with his majesty, I soughtto present it through the medium of her brother's wife. I had visited her in better days, and received particular marks of her favor. But now, times were altered, Mr. Judson was in prison, and I in distress, which was a sufficient reason for giving me a cold reception. I took a present of considerable value. She was lolling on her carpet as I entered, with her attendants around her. I waited not for the usual question to a suppliant, 'What do you want?' but in a bold, earnest yet respectful manner, stated our distresses and our wrongs, and begged her assistance. She partly raised her head, opened the present I had brought, and coolly replied, 'Your case is not singular; all the foreigners are treated alike.' But itissingular, said I, the teachers are Americans; they are ministers of religion, have nothing to do with war or politics, and came to Ava in obedience to the king's command. They have never done anything to deserve such treatment; and is it right they should be treated thus? 'The king does as he pleases,' said she, 'I am not the king, what can I do?' You can state their case to the queen and obtain their release, replied I. Place yourself in my situation—were you in America, your husband, innocent of crime, thrown into prison, in irons, and you a solitary, unprotected female—what would you do? With a slight degree of feeling, she said, 'I will present your petition; come again to-morrow. I returned to the house, with considerable hope that the speedy release of the missionaries was at hand. But the next day, the property of Mr. Gouger, (one of the Englishmen,) amounting to 25,000 dollars, was seized and carried to the palace. The officers on their return, politely informed me, that they shouldvisit our houseon the morrow. I felt obliged for this information, and accordingly made preparations to receive them by secreting as many little articles as possible; together with considerable silver; as I knew if the war should be protracted, we should be in a state of starvation without it. But my mind was in a dreadful state of agitation, lest it should be discovered, and cause my being thrown into prison. And had it been possible to procure money from any other quarter, I should not have ventured on such a step.
"The following morning, the royal treasurer, the governor of the north gate of the palace, who was in future our steady friend, and another nobleman, attended by forty or fifty followers, came to take possession of all we had. I treated them civilly, gave them seats, and tea and sweetmeats for their refreshment; and justice obliges me to say, that they conducted the business of confiscation, with more regard to my feelings than I should have thought it possible for Burmese officers to exhibit. The three officers with one of the royal secretaries alone entered the house; theirattendants were ordered to remain outside. They saw I was deeply affected, and apologized for what they were about to do, by saying that it was painful for them to take possession of property not their own, but they were compelled thus to do by order of the king. "Where is your silver, gold, and jewels?" said the royal treasurer. I have no gold or jewels, but here is the key of a trunk which contains the silver—do with it as you please. The trunk was produced, and the silver weighed. This money, said I, was collected in America by the disciples of Christ, and sent here for the purpose of building a kyoung, (the name of a priest's dwelling;) and for our support while teaching the religion of Christ. Is it suitable that you should take it? (The Burmans are averse to taking religious offerings, which was the cause of my making the inquiry.) "We will state this circumstance to the king," said one of them, "and perhaps he will restore it. But is this all the silver you have?" I could not tell a falsehood. The house is in your possession, I replied, search for yourselves. "Have you not deposited silver with some person of your acquaintance?" My acquaintances are all in prison, with whom should I deposit silver? They next ordered my trunk and drawers to be examined. The secretary only was allowed to accompany me in this search. Everything nice or curious which met his view, was presented tothe officers for their decision whether it should be taken or retained. I begged they would not take our wearing apparel, as it would be disgraceful to take clothes partly worn into the possession of his majesty, and to us they were of unspeakable value. They assented, and took a list only; and did the same with the books, medicines, &c. My little work-table and rocking-chair, presents from my beloved brother, I rescued from their grasp, partly by artifice, and partly through their ignorance. They left also many articles which were of inestimable value during our long imprisonment."
As soon as the search was completed, Mrs. Judson hastened to the wife of the queen's brother, in hopes of having a favorable answer to her petition; but to her heavy disappointment she learned that the queen had refused to interfere. With a sad heart she turned her steps to the prison-gate, but here she was denied admittance, and for ten days she found the prison-door closed against her.
"The officers who had taken possession of our property," continues Mrs. Judson, "presented it to his majesty, saying, 'Judson is a true teacher; we found nothing in his house but what belongs to priests. In addition to this money, there are an immense number of books, medicines, trunks of wearing apparel, &c., of which we have only taken a list. Shall we take them or let them remain?' 'Let them remain,' said the king, 'and put this property by itself, for it shall be restored to him again, if he be found innocent.' This was in allusion to the idea of his being a spy."
While the officers were at Mr. J.'s house, they had insisted on knowing the sum that had been paid to bribe the governor to allow the prisoners more liberty. This sum they afterwards demanded of the governor, which so enraged him that he threatened to thrust them back into the inner prison. When Mrs. J. waited on him the next morning, his first words were, "You are very bad; why did you tell the royal treasurer you had given me so much money?" "The treasurer inquired, what could I say?" she replied. "Say that you had given me nothing," said he, "and I would have made the teachers comfortable in prison; but now I know not what will be their fate." "But I cannot tell a falsehood," she replied; "my religion differs from yours; it forbids prevarication, and had you stood by me with your knife raised, I could not have said what you suggest."
This answer so pleased the wife of the governor, who sat by, that she ever afterwards was a firm friend to Mrs. Judson. The latter then by the present of a beautiful opera-glass, a gift from her English friends, and by promises of future presents, induced the governor to let her husband remain where he was; but poor Dr. Price was confined as at first, and was only relieved at the end of ten days, by his promising a piece of broadcloth, and presents from Mrs. Judson.
Sometimes she was summoned before the authorities to answer the most absurd charges, and daily she was subjected to the most harassing annoyance, from the desire of each petty officer to get money through their misfortunes. Notwithstanding her repulse in her application to the queen, hardly a day passed for seven months that she did not visit some one of the members of government, or branches of the royal family, in order to gain their influence in behalf of the teachers, though the only benefit was that their encouraging promises preserved her from despair. She did however in this manner gain friends, who sometimes assisted her with food, and who tried to destroy the impression that they were concerned in the war.
The extortions and oppressions to which the prisoners were subject were also indescribable. Sometimes Mrs. Judson was forbidden to have any intercourse with them during the day; and therefore she would have two miles to walk after dark, in returning to her house. She says, "Oh how many, many times have I returned from that dreary prison at nine o'clock at night, solitary and worn out with fatigue and anxiety, and thrown myself down in that same rocking-chair you and Deacon S. provided for me in Boston, and endeavored to invent some new scheme for the release of the prisoners. Sometimes,for a moment or two, my thoughts would glance toward America and my beloved friends there, outfor nearly a year and a half, so entirely engrossed was every thought with present scenes and sufferings, that I seldom reflected on a single occurrence of my former life, or recollected that I had a friend in existence out of Ava.
"You my dear brother, who know my strong attachment to my friends, and how much pleasure I have hitherto experienced from retrospect, can judge from the above circumstance, how intense were my sufferings. But the point, the acme of my distress, consisted in the awful uncertainty of our final fate. My prevailing opinion was, that my husband would suffer violent death; and that I should of course become a slave, and languish out a miserable though short existence, in the tyrannic hands of some unfeeling monster. But the consolations of religion in these trying circumstances, were neither few nor small. It taught me to look beyond this world, to that rest, that peaceful, happy rest, where Jesus reigns, and oppression never enters."
In the meantime, the Burmese government was sending army after army down the river to fight the English; and constantly receiving news of their defeat and destruction. One of its officers, however, named Bandoola, having been more successful, the kingsent for him to Ava, and conferred on him the command of a very large army, destined against Rangoon. As he was receiving every demonstration of court favor, Mrs. Judson resolved to wait on him with a petition for the release of the prisoners. She was received in an obliging manner, and directed to call again when he should have deliberated on the subject. With the joyful news of her flattering reception, she flew to the prison, and both she and her husband thought deliverance was at hand. But on going again with a handsome present to hear his decision, she was informed by his lady—her lord being absent—that he was now very busy, making preparations for Rangoon, but that when he had retaken that city,and expelled the English, he would return and release all the prisoners.
This was her last application for their enlargement, though she constantly visited the various officials with presents in order to make the situation of the prisoners more tolerable. The governor of the palace used to be so much gratified with her accounts of the manners, customs and government of America, that he required her to spend many hours of every other day at his house.
Mrs. Judson had been permitted to make for her husband a little bamboo room in the prison enclosure far more comfortable than the shed he had occupiedand where she sometimes was allowed to spend a few hours in his society. But her visits both to the prison and to the governor were interrupted by the birth of a little daughter—truly
'A child of misery, baptized in tears!'
'A child of misery, baptized in tears!'
About this time the Burmese court was thrown into consternation by news of the disastrous defeat of Bandoola, the vain-glorious chief who was to expel the English from the kingdom; and the rapid advance of the British troops towards Ava. The first consequence of such intelligence would of course be increased rigor towards the white prisoners; and accordingly, before she had regained her strength after her confinement, Mrs. Judson learned that her husband had been put into the inner prison, in five pairs of fetters, that the room she had made for him had been torn down, and all his little comforts taken away by his jailers. All the prisoners had been similarly treated.
Mrs. Judson, feeble as she was, hastened to the governor's house. But in her long absence she had lost favor; and she was told that she must not ask to have the fetters taken off, or the prisoners released, forit could not be done. She made a pathetic appeal to the governor, who was an old man, reminding him of all his former kindness to them, and begging to know why his conduct was so changed to them now. His hardheart melted and he even "wept like a child." He then confessed to her that he had often been ordered to assassinate the prisoners privately, but that he would not do it; and that, come what would, he would never put Mr. Judson to death. At the same time he was resolute in refusing to attempt any mitigation of his sufferings.
The situation of the prisoners was now horrible in the extreme. There were more than one hundred of them shut up in one room, with no air but what came through cracks in the boards, and this in the hot season. Mrs. Judson was sometimes permitted to spend five minutes at the door, but the sight was almost too horrible to be borne. By incessant intreaties, she obtained permission for them to eat their food outside, but even this was soon forbidden. After a month passed in this way, Mr. Judson was seized with fever, and nothing but death was before him unless he could have more air. Mrs. Judson at length succeeded in putting up another bamboo hut in the prison enclosure, and by wearing out the governor with her entreaties, she got her husband removed into it, and though too low for them to stand upright, it seemed to them a palace in comparison with the prison.
Disastrous news of the war continued to arrive, and at length the death of Bandoola seemed to be the climax of misfortune. Who could be found to takehis place? A government officer, who had for some time been in disgrace with the king, now came forward with a proposal to conquer the English and put an end to the war, provided an army was raised on a new plan. His offers were accepted, and he was clothed with full powers. He was a man of talent and enterprise, and a violent enemy to foreigners. The missionaries feared everything from his malignancy; and their fears were but too well founded.
They had been in their comfortable hut but a few days, when Mrs. J. was suddenly summoned before the governor, and detained by trifling pretexts for some time, in order—as she afterwards found—to spare her the dreadful scene that was enacted at the prison in her absence. On leaving him she met a servant running to tell her that all the white prisoners were carried away he knew not whither. She ran from street to street inquiring for them, until at length she was informed they were carried to Amarapoora. She hastened to the governor, who professed his ignorance, but promised to send off a man to inquire their fate; and said significantly, "You can do nothing more for your husband;take care of yourself." She returned to her room, and sank down almost in despair. This was the most insupportable day she had passed. She resolved to go to Amarapoora; packed up some valuables in trunks to leave with the governor; andtook leave of Ava, as she supposed, forever. She obtained a pass for herself and infant, her two Burman girls and cook, and got on board a boat, which conveyed them within two miles of Amarapoora. There she procured a cart, but the heat and dust, with the fatigue of carrying her infant, almost deprived her of reason. But on reaching the court-house, her distress was further aggravated, by finding that she must go four miles farther to a place called Oung-pen-la. There in an old shattered building, without a roof, under the burning sun, sat the poor prisoners, chained two and two, and almost in a dying condition. She prevailed on the jailer to give her a shelter in a wretched little room half filled with grain, and in that filthy place, without bed, chair, table, or any other comfort, she spent the nextsix monthsof wretchedness.
The account given her by Mr. Judson of his sufferings since she had seen him was almost too dreadful to repeat. Dragged from the prison, and stripped of their clothing, they were driven under a broiling sun, over the hot sand and gravel until their naked feet were all one wound, and they earnestly longed for death to put an end to their tortures. When night came on, finding that one of the prisoners had dropped dead, and that the others were utterly unable to walk, their driver had halted till the next morning, and then conveyed them the remainder of the distance in carts. On arriving and seeing the dilapidated condition of the prison, they confidently thought they had been brought here for execution, and tried to prepare themselves to meet a dreadful and perhaps lingering death. From this apprehension they were relieved by seeing preparations made to repair the prison.
Mrs. Judson had brought from Ava all the money she could command, secreted about her person. And she records her thankfulness to her Heavenly Father that she never suffered from want of money, though frequently from want of provisions. Hitherto her health and that of her children had been good. But now commenced her personal, bodily sufferings. One of the little Burman girls whom she had adopted, and whom she had named Mary Hasseltine, was attacked on the morning after her arrival with small-pox. She had been Mrs. Judson's only assistant in the care of her infant. But now she required all the time that could be spared from Mr. Judson, whose mangled feet rendered him utterly unable to move. Mrs. Judson's whole time was spent in going back and forth from the prison to the house with her little Maria in her arms. Knowing that the other children must have the disease, she inoculated both, and those of the jailer, all of whom had it lightly except her poor babe, with whom the inoculation did not take, and who had it thenatural way. Before this she had been a healthy child but it was more than three months before she recovered from the dreadful disorder.
The beneficial effects of inoculation in the case of the jailer's children, caused Mrs. Judson to be called upon to perform the operation upon all the children in the village. Mr. Judson gradually recovered, and found his situation much more comfortable than at Ava. But Mrs. Judson, overcome by watchings, fatigue, miserable food, and still more miserable lodgings, was attacked by one of the disorders of the country; and though much debilitated, was obliged to set off in a cart for Ava to procure medicines and suitable food. While there, her disorder increased so fearfully in violence, that she gave up all hope of recovery, and was only anxious to return and die near the prison. By the use of laudanum she so far checked the disease, that she was able to get back to Oung-pen-la, but in such a state that the cook whom she had left to supply her place, and who came to help her out of the wretched cart in which she had made part of the journey, was so overwhelmed by her altered and emaciated appearance that he burst into tears. To this poor cook she was indebted, during the next two months for everything, and even for her life and that of those dearest to her. He would walk miles to procure and carry food for the prisoners, then return todo everything he could for Mrs. J. Though a Bengalee, he forgot his caste, and hesitated not at any office or service which was required of him. It was afterwards in their power amply to reward him for his labor of love, and they never forgot their debt of gratitude.
At this time poor little Maria was the greatest sufferer, and her mother's anguish at seeing her distress while she was unable to relieve it, was indescribable. Deprived of her natural food by her mother's illness, while not a drop of milk could be procured in the village, her cries were heart-rending. Sometimes Mr. Judson would prevail on his keepers to let him carry the emaciated little creature around in his arms, to beg nourishment from those mothers in the village who had young children. Now indeed was the cup of misery full. While in health, the active, ardent mind of Mrs. Judson bore up under trials, every new one suggesting some ingenious expedient to lighten or avert it; but now to see those cherished ones suffering, and be herself confined by sickness, was almost too much to bear.
It was about this time they learned the death of their enemy, whose elevation to power was the cause of their removal from Ava, and whose purpose in sending them to Oung-pen-la, was indeed their destruction. Suspected of high-treason, and of embezzlingpublic money, he was executed without a moments delay. Another officer was appointed to command the army, but with far less sanguine expectations of success. After his death, the prisoners were released from the prison, and conducted to Ava. The cause of the change was soon evident. Mr. Judson was wanted to act as interpreter between the Burmese government and the advancing army of the British. For six weeks he was kept in Maloun, steadily at work in translating, and suffering as much as when in prison except that he was not in irons. Mrs. Judson, who had remained at Ava, was seized soon after he left her with spotted fever of the most malignant character. She lost her reason, and for a long time was insensible to everything around her. But she records with lively gratitude, that just before her senses left her, a Portuguese woman had unexpectedly come and offered herself as nurse to her little daughter; and about the same time, Dr. Price, being released from prison, visited her. He represents her situation to have been the most distressing he ever witnessed, and he had no idea she could survive many hours. At one time a Burmese neighbor, who had come in with others to see her die, said "She is dead; and if the King of angels were to come in, he could not recover her." Her head was shaved, blisters were applied to it and to her feet, and she gradually revived; althoughthe fever having run seventeen days, she was of course a long time in recovering.
While in this debilitated state, she learned through her servant that his master had arrived in town, under the charge of several Burmans, and that it was reported that he was to be sent back to the Oung-pen-la prison. Being too weak to bear ill tidings, the shock had well nigh destroyed her. When she had in some measure recovered her composure, she sent Moung Ing to her old friend, the governor of the north gate, begging him to make one more effort for Mr. Judson. Moung Ing then went in search of 'the teacher,' and at length found him in an obscure prison. Her feelings while he was gone, Mrs. Judson thus describes:
"If ever I felt the value and efficacy of prayer, I did at this time. I could not rise from my couch; I could make no efforts to secure my husband; I could only plead with that great and powerful Being who has said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble andI will hear, and thou shalt glorify me;' and who made me at this time feel so powerfully this promise, that I became quite composed, feeling assured that my prayers would be answered."
She afterwards learned that as soon as Mr. Judson was found of no farther use at Maloun as interpreter he was transferred without ceremony to Ava, where happening to meet no one who knew him, he was ordered to be taken whence he came, when he went to Maloun, viz: Oung-pen-la. But at the instance of, Mrs. Judson's faithful messenger, Moung Ing, the governor of the north gate presented a petition to the high court of the empire, became security for Mr. J., obtained his release, took him to his house, and removed Mrs. Judson thither also as soon as her health permitted.
The English army, which had all along offered peace on condition of the payment of a certain sum of money, offers which the Burmans had constantly rejected, had now advanced so far as to threaten the golden city itself. The Burmans were thus compelled to negotiate, and all their negotiations from beginning to end, "were conducted by Drs. Judson and Price, though they were often interrupted or entirely broken off by the caprice and jealousy of the Burman monarch and his officers." The king placing no confidence in the English, and having the most absurd ideas of his power to force them to his own terms, sent messengers at every stage of their advance to induce Sir Archibald Campbell to abate his demands and alter his conditions. No pains was spared to fortify the golden city, even while Dr. Price and other English prisoners were engaged in the business of negotiation. Mrs. Judson had the pain of seeing their house withoutbeautiful enclosure of fruits and flowers, entirely destroyed, to make a place for the erection of cannon.
A new message now arrived from Sir Archibald. No smaller sum than the one stipulated, (about five million dollars) would be received, but it might be paid at four different times; the first payment to be made within twelve days, or the army would continue its march. In addition, the prisoners were to be given up immediately. The king, who had learned the value of Mr. Judson's services, declared that those foreigners who were not English, were his people, and should not go. The missionaries were ordered to go again to the English camp, to propose to them to take a third of the money and give up their demand for the missionaries; and threatened that if unsuccessful in their embassy, they and their families should suffer.
Their situation was now truly perilous, for the Burman arrogance was at this time heightened by the boast of one of their generals, that he would so fortify the ancient city of Pugan, which lay in the route of the British toward Ava, that they could never advance beyond it; and that in fact he would destroy or drive them from the country. The invincible English took the city, however, with perfect ease; and the king being enraged that he had listened for a moment to the braggart, and thus provoked the British officers, had him executed without ceremony, and gave outthat it was to punish him for violating his command 'not to fight the English.' The same night, Dr. Price was sent with part of the money, and some of the prisoners, but returned with the alarming intelligence, that the general was angry, would not communicate with him, and was marching upon Ava.
All was now confusion in the palace; gold and silver vessels were melted up, and the money weighed out; and Mr. Judson was hurried into a boat, and sent to the British camp. He was instructed by the English general that every foreigner whowishedto leave the country, must be permitted to go, or peace would not be made. The members of government now had recourse to solicitation, and promised to make Mr. Judson a great man if he would remain. To avoid the oduim of expressing a wish to leave his majesty's service, he told them that Sir Archibald had ordered that all who desired it, should go; that his wife had often expressed that desire, that she therefore must be given up, and that he must follow. The prisoners were then all released, and on a cool moonlight evening, with hearts overflowing with gratitude and joy, they took their passage down the Irrawady, bidding a final adieu to the scene of their sufferings, thegoldencity of Ava.
With what delight did they the next morning hail the sight of the steamboat that was to conduct themto the British camp. "With what unspeakable satisfaction did they again find themselves surrounded by the comforts and refinements of civilized life." The kindness of General Campbell was more like that of a father to his own family, than that of a stranger to persons of another country. Indeed it was to him they owed their final release from Ava, and the recovery of all their confiscated property. Mrs. Judson thinks no people on earth were ever happier than they were at that time; the very idea that they were free from Burman treachery and tyranny, and under British protection, filling them with gratitude and joy too exquisite for expression. "What shall we render to the Lord for all his benefits to us," was the constant utterance of their hearts. Peace was soon settled; they left the camp, and after an absence of two years and three months were again in Rangoon.
Mrs. Judson concludes her long, melancholy, but most interesting letter to her brother, as follows: "A review of our trip to and adventures in Ava, suggests the inquiry, Why were we permitted to go? What good has been effected? Why did I not listen to the advice of friends in Bengal and remain till the war was concluded? But all that we can say is—It is not in man that walketh to direct his steps.—So far as my going round to Rangoon at the time I did, was instrumental in bringing those heavy afflictions upon us, I can only state that if ever I acted from a sense of duty in my life, it was at that time; for my conscience would not allow me any peace, when I thought of sending for your brother to Calcutta, in prospect of the approaching war. Our society at home have lost no property on account of our difficulties; but two years of precious time have been lost to the missionunless some future advantage may be gained, in consequence of the severe discipline to which we ourselves have been subject. We are sometimes induced to think that the lesson we have found so very hard to learn will have a beneficial effect through our lives; and that the mission may in the end, be advanced rather than retarded."
In reference to this timid and hesitating hope of some benefit whichmight possiblyaccrue to the cause of missions, from her terrible experience, the remarks of Dr. Dowling in a recent work, are so appropriate, that we will introduce them here. "Previous to the commencement of these sufferings, though a few American Baptists were partially awake to the salvation of the heathen, ... yet the contributions for the mission were meagre, and the interest it had excited was comparatively small. Something of a thrilling, exciting character was needed to arouse the churches from their indifference and lethargy; something that should touch their hearts, by showing them somewhat of the nature and extent of the sacrifices made by those devoted missionaries whom they were called upon to sustain by their benefactions and their prayers.
"Such a stimulus was afforded, when after two years of painful suspense, during which it was not known whether the missionaries were dead or alive, thetouching recital of their unparalleled sufferings for Christ's sake, and of their wonderful deliverance, at length burst like an electric shock upon the American churches. And that shock has not yet spent its force, as we have recently seen in the effect produced by the simple, silent presence, in the assemblies of the saints, of the venerated man of God, who can say with an Apostle—'I bear in my body the scars of the Lord Jesus!'"[4]
That worn veteran had but to arise in a Christian assembly, and a thrill of sympathy was sent through the audience, and thousands upon thousands of dollars were pledged on the spot to that cause which his silent presence so powerfully advocated.
Another consequence of the war, was to secure British toleration and protection to a large territory, hitherto almost inaccessible to the missionaries. Of this we shall speak more fully hereafter.
Mrs. Judson proceeds: "We should have had no hesitation about remaining at Ava, if no part of the Burman empire had been ceded to the British. But as it was, we felt that it would be unnecessary exposure, besides the missionary field being more limited in consequence of intoleration. We now consider our future missionary prospects as bright indeed, and our only anxiety is to be once more in that situation whenour time will be exclusively devoted to the instruction of the heathen.
... "This letter, dreadful as are the scenes herein described, gives you but a faint idea of the awful reality. The anguish, the agony of mind, resulting from a thousand little circumstances impossible to delineate on paper, can be known by those only who have been in similar situations. Pray for us, my dear brother and sister, that these heavy afflictions may not be in vain, but may be blessed to our spiritual good, and the advancement of Christ's Church among the heathen."
The following is extracted from a tribute to Mrs. Judson which appeared in a Calcutta paper, after the war. It was written by a fellow-prisoner of Mr. J.
"Mrs. Judson was the author of those eloquent and forcible appeals to the government, which prepared them by degrees for submission to terms of peace, never expected by any who knew the haughtiness and inflexible pride of the Burman court.
"And while on this subject, the overflowings of grateful feelings on behalf of myself and fellow-prisoners, compel me to add a tribute of public thanks to that amiable and humane female, who, though living at a distance of two miles from our prison, without any means of conveyance, and very feeble in health, forgot her own comfort and infirmity, and almostevery day visited us, sought out and administered to our wants, and contributed in every way to alleviate our misery.
"When we were all left by the government destitute of food, she, with unwearied perseverance by some means or other, obtained for us a constant supply.
... "When the unfeeling avarice of our keepers confined us inside, or made our feet fast in the stocks, she, like a ministering angel, never ceased her applications to the government, until she was authorized to communicate to us the grateful news of our enlargement, or of a respite from our galling oppressions.
"Besides all this, it was unquestionably owing, in a chief degree, to the repeated eloquence and forcible appeals of Mrs. Judson, that the untutored Burman was finally made willing to secure the welfare of his country by a sincere peace."
Well may Professor Gammell write of her: "History has not recorded, poetry itself has seldom portrayed a more affecting exhibition of Christian fortitude, of female heroism, and of all the noble and generous qualities which constitute the dignity and glory of woman. In the midst of sickness and danger, and every calamity which can crush the human heart, she presented a character equal to the sternest trial, and an address and a fertility of resources which gaveher an ascendency over the minds of her most cruel enemies, and alone saved the missionaries and their fellow-captives from the terrible doom which constantly awaited them."
We will conclude this account of the terribletwo years, by an extract from a letter of Mr. Judson dated Rangoon, March 25, 1826. "Through the kind interposition of our Heavenly Father, we have been preserved in the most imminent danger, from the hand of the executioner, and in repeated instances of most alarming illness, during my protracted imprisonment of one year and seven months, nine months in three pairs of fetters, two months in five, six months in one, and two months a prisoner at large.... The disciples and inquirers have been dispersed in all directions. Several are dead; Moung-Shwa-ba has been in the mission-house through the whole, and Moung Ing with Mrs. Judson at Ava.... I long for the time when we shall enjoy once more the stated worship and ordinances of the Lord's house."
"One result of the Burman war, was the acquisition by the British of several provinces previously under the government of the King of Burmah. Thus a safe asylum was provided for the missionaries, and for the Christian natives where they might worship God in peace, under the shelter of the English government."One of these provinces was fixed upon as the seat of the mission, and the new town of Amherst was to be the residence of the missionaries. Native Christian families began to assemble there, and Mrs. Judson made vigorous preparations to open a school. Mr. Crawford of the British Embassy after long solicitation, succeeded in persuading Mr. Judson, that by accompanying him in the capacity of interpreter to the court of Ava he might secure to the mission certain advantages he had long had greatly at heart, and he reluctantly consented to go. Leaving Mrs. Judson and her infant daughter in the house of the civil superintendent at Amherst, he proceeded to the Burman capital. The journey was every way unfortunate; attended with long delays, and in its result, as far as Mr. Judson was concerned, quite unsuccessful. But it was chiefly disastrous because it detained him from the sick and dying bed of that devoted wife to whom he was bound by every tie that can attach human hearts to each other; and compelled her to end her troubled pilgrimagealone. That God who "moves in a mysterious way," had ordered it that she who had lived through appalling dangers and threatening deaths until her mission of love toward those she had cherished so fondly was accomplished, was—now that her trials seemed nearly ended, and the hopes of her heart seemingly in a train of accomplishment—suddenly called from the scene of her labors to that of her "exceeding great reward." It was as if a noble ship after encountering storms and tempests, after being often nearly wrecked, and as often saved almost by miracle, should when already in port and in sight of anxious spectators, suddenly sink forever.
In a letter to the corresponding secretary, dated Ava, Dec. 7, 1826, Mr. Judson writes: "The news of the death of my beloved wife, has not only thrown a gloom over all my future prospects, but has forever embittered the recollection of the present journey, in consequence of which I have been absent from her dying bed, and prevented from affording the spiritual comfort which her lonely circumstances peculiarly required, and of contributing to avert the fatal catastrophe, which has deprived me of one of the first of women, and best of wives. I commend myself and motherless child to your sympathy and prayers."
From a letter from Mr. Judson to Mrs. Hasseltine we learn, that when he parted from his wife, she was in good health and comfortably situated, with happy prospects of a new field of missionary labor, and the expectation of seeing her husband again in three or four months at farthest. His last letter from her was dated the 14th of September. She says, "I have this day moved into the new house, and for the first time since we were broken up at Ava, feel myself at home.The house is large and convenient, and if you were here I should feel quite happy.... Poor little Maria is still feeble.... When I ask her where Papa is, she always starts up and points toward the sea. The servants behave very well, and I have no trouble about anything except you and Maria. Pray take care of yourself.... May God preserve and bless you, and restore you again to your new and old home is the prayer of your affectionate Ann." Another letter from a friend confirmed the statement with regard to his wife's health, though it spoke unfavorably of that of the child. "But," continues Mr. Judson, "my next communication was a letter with a black seal, handed me by a person, saying he was sorry to inform me of the death of the child. I know not whether this was a mistake on his part, or kindly intended to prepare my mind for the real intelligence. I went to my room, and opened the letter with a feeling of gratitude and joy, that at any rate the mother was spared. It began thus: 'My dear Sir,—To one who has suffered so much and with such exemplary fortitude, there needs but little preface to tell a tale of distress. It were cruel indeed to torture you with doubt and suspense. To sum up the unhappy tidings in a few words—Mrs. Judson is no more.' At intervals," continues Mr. Judson, "I got through the dreadful letter and proceed to give you the substance, as indeliblyengraven on my heart." After adding that her disease was a violent fever, which baffled the skill of the physicians and after eighteen days carried her to the grave, he continues: "You perceive I have no account whatever of the state of her mind in view of death and eternity, or of her wishes concerning her darling babe, whom she loved most intensely. I will not trouble you, my dear mother, with an account of my own private feelings—the bitter, heart-rending anguish, which for some days would not admit of mitigation, and the comfort which the Gospel subsequently afforded, the Gospel of Jesus Christ which brings life and immortality to light."
After his return to Amherst, Mr. Judson writes: "Amid the desolation that death has made, I take up my pen to address once more the mother of my beloved Ann. I am sitting in the house she built—in the room where she breathed her last—and at a window from which I see the tree that stands at the head of her grave.... Mr. and Mrs. Wade are living in the house, having arrived here about a month after Ann's death, and Mrs. W. has taken charge of my poor motherless Maria.... When I arrived Mr. Wade met me at the landing-place, and as I passed on to the house, one and another of the native Christians came out, and when they saw me they began to weep. At length we reached the house; and I almost expectedto see my love coming out to meet me as usual, but no, I only saw in the arms of Mrs. Wade, a poor puny child, who could not recognize her father, and from whose infant mind had long been erased all recollection of the mother who loved her so much. She turned away from me in alarm, and I, obliged to seek comfort elsewhere, found my way to the grave, but who ever obtained comfort there? Thence I went to the house in which I left her; and looked at the spot where last we knelt in prayer, and where we exchanged the parting kiss....
"It seems that her head was much affected and she said but little. She sometimes complained thus: 'The teacher is long in coming, and the missionaries are long in coming, I must die alone and leave my little one, but as it is the will of God, I acquiesce in his will. I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid I shall not be able to bear these pains. Tell the teacher that the disease was most violent, and I could not write; tell him how I suffered and died; tell him all you see.'... When she could not notice anything else, she would still call the child to her, and charge the nurse to be kind to it, and indulge it in everything till its father should return. The last day or two she lay almost senseless and motionless, on one side, her head reclining on her arm, her eyes closed, and at eight in theevening, with one exclamation of distress in the Burman language, she ceased to breathe."
From the physician who attended her he afterwards learned that the fatal termination of her disease, was chiefly owing to the weakness of her constitution occasioned by the severe privations, and long-protracted sufferings which she endured at Ava. "And oh!" adds her husband, "With what meekness, patience magnanimity and Christian fortitude, she bore those sufferings; and can I wish they had been less? Can I sacriligiously wish to rob her crown of a single gem? Much she saw and suffered of the evils of this evil world; and eminently was she qualified to relish and enjoy the pure and holy rest into which she has entered. True she has been taken from a sphere in which she was singularly qualified, by her natural disposition, her winning manners, her devoted zeal, and her perfect acquaintance with the language, to be extensively serviceable to the cause of Christ; true she has been torn from her husband's bleeding heart and from her darling babe; but infinite wisdom and love have presided, as ever, in this most afflicting dispensation. Faith decides that all is right."
To show that Mrs. Judson was already appreciated as she deserved by the European society in Amherst, we will subjoin part of a letter from Captain F. of that place to a friend in Rangoon: "I shall not attempt togive you an account of the gloom which the death of this amiable woman has thrown over our little society, you who were so well acquainted with her, will feel her loss more deeply; but we had just known her long enough to value her acquaintance as a blessing in this remote corner. I dread the effect it will have on poor Judson. I am sure you will take every care that this mournful intelligence may be opened to him as carefully as possible."
In theCalcutta Reviewof 1848, we find this noble tribute to her memory: "Of Mrs. Judson little is known in the noisy world. Few comparatively are acquainted with her name, few with her actions, but if any woman since the first arrival of the white strangers on the shores of India, has on that great theatre of war, stretching between the mouth of the Irrawady and the borders of the Hindoo Kush, rightly earned for herself the title of a heroine, Mrs. Judson has, by her doings and sufferings, fairly earned the distinction—a distinction, be it said, which her true woman's nature would have very little appreciated. Still it is right that she should be honored by the world. Her sufferings were far more unendurable, her heroism far more noble, than any which in more recent times have been so much pitied and so much applauded; but she was a simple missionary's wife, an American by birth, and she told her tale with an artless modesty—writing only what it became her to write, treating only of matters that became a woman. Her captivity, if so it can be called, was voluntarily endured. She of her own free will shared the sufferings of her husband, taking to herself no credit for anything she did; putting her trust in God, and praying to him to strengthen her human weakness. She was spared to breathe once again the free air of liberty, but her troubles had done the work of death on her delicate frame, and she was soon translated to heaven. She was the real heroine. The annals in the East present us with no parallel."
On the 26th of April, Mr. Judson writes, "My sweet little Maria lies by the side of her fond mother. Her complaint proved incurable. The work of death went forward, and after the usual process, excruciating to a parent's feelings, she ceased to breathe on the 24th inst., at 3 o'clock P.M., aged 2 years and 3 months. We then closed her faded eyes, and bound up her discolored lips, and folded her little hands—the exact pattern of her mother's—on her cold breast. The next morning we made her last bed, under the hope tree, (Hopia,) in the small enclosure which surrounds her mother's lonely grave."
Many months later he wrote; "You ask many questions about our sufferings at Ava, but how can I answer them now? There would be some pleasure inreviewing those scenes if she were alive; now I can not. The only reflection that assuages the anguish of retrospection is, that she now rests far away, where no spotted-faced executioner can fill her heart with terror; where no unfeeling magistrate can extort the scanty pittance which she had preserved through every risk to sustain her fettered husband and famishing babe; no more exposed to lie on a bed of languishment, stung with the uncertainty what would become of her poor husband and child when she was gone. No, she has her little ones around her, I trust, and has taught them to praise the source whence their deliverance flowed. Her little son, his soul enlarged to angel's size, was perhaps first to meet her at heaven's portals, and welcome his mother to his own abode—and her daughter followed her in six short months." ... "And when we all meet in Heaven—when all have arrived, and we find all safe, forever safe, and our Saviour ever safe and glorious, and in him all his beloved—oh shall we not be happy, and ever praise him who has endured the cross to wear and confer such a crown!"