Chapter XI

LETTER FROM MRS. BOARDMAN.--ILLNESS AND DEATH OF GEORGE DANA BOARDMAN.

"Tavoy, March 7, 1831.

"My beloved Parents,

"With a heart glowing with joy, and at the same time rent with
anguish unutterable, I take my pen to address you. You, too, will
rejoice when you hear what God has wrought through the
instrumentality of your beloved son. Yes, you will bless God that
you were enabled to devote him to this blessed service among the
heathen, when I tell you that within the last two months,
fifty-seven have been baptized, all Karens, excepting one, a little
boy of the school and son of the native governor. Twenty-three were
baptized in this city by Moung Ing, and thirty-four in their native
wilderness by Mr. Mason.

"Mr. Mason arrived Jan. 23d, and on the 31st, he, with Mr.
Boardman, myself and George, set out on a long-promised tour among
the Karens. Mr. Boardman was very feeble, but we hoped the change
of air and scenery would be beneficial. A company of Karens had
come to convey us out, Mr. Boardman on his bed and me in a chair.
We reached the place on the third day, and found they had erected a
bamboo chapel on a beautiful stream at the base of a range of
mountains. The place was central, and nearly one hundred persons
had assembled, more than half of them applicants for baptism. Oh it
was a sight calculated to call forth the liveliest joy of which
human nature is susceptible, and made me, for a moment, forget my
bitter griefs--a sight far surpassing all I had ever anticipated,
even in my most sanguine hours. The Karens cooked, ate and slept on
the around, by the river-side, with no other shelter than the trees
of the forest. Three years ago they were sunk in the lowest depths
of ignorance and superstition. Now the glad tidings of mercy had
reached them, and they were willing to live in the open air, away
from their homes, for the sake of enjoying the privileges of the
Gospel.

"My dear husband had borne the journey better than we had feared,
though he suffered from exhaustion and pain in his side, which,
however, was much relieved by a little attention. His spirits were
unusually good, and we fondly hoped that a few days' residence in
that delightful, airy spot, surrounded by his loved Karens, would
recruit and invigorate his weakened frame. But I soon perceived he
was failing, and tenderly urged his return to town, where he could
enjoy the quiet of home, and the benefit of medical advice. But he
repelled the thought at once, saying he confidently expected
improvement from the change, and that the disappointment would be
worse for him than staying. 'And even,' added he, 'should my poor,
unprofitable life be somewhat shortened by staying, ought I, on
that account merely, to leave this interesting field? Should I not
rather stay and assist in gathering in these dear scattered lambs
of the fold? You know, Sarah, that coming on a foreign mission
involves the probability of a shorter life, than staying in one's
native country. And yet obedience to our Lord, and compassion for
the perishing heathen, induced us to make this sacrifice. And have
we ever repented that we came? No; I trust we can both say that we
bless God for bringing us to Burmah, for directing our footsteps to
Tavoy, and even for leading us hither. You already know, my love,'
he continued, with a look of tenderness never to be forgotten,
'that I cannot live long, I must sink under this disease; and
should we go home now, the all-important business which brought us
out, must be given up, and I might linger out a few days of
suffering, stung with the reflection, that I had preferred a few
idle days, to my Master's service. Do not, therefore, ask me to go,
till these poor Karens have been baptized.' I saw he was right, but
my feelings revolted. Nothing seemed so valuable as his life, and
I felt that I could make any sacrifice to prolong it, though it
were but for one hour. Still a desire to gratify him, if no higher
motive made me silent, though my heart ached to see him so ill in
such a wretched place, deprived of many of the comforts of life, to
say nothing of the indulgences desirable in sickness.

"The chapel was large, but open on all sides, excepting a small
place built up for Mr. Mason, and a room about five feet wide and
ten feet long, for the accommodation of Mr. Boardman and myself
with our little boy. The roof was so low, that I could not stand
upright; and it was but poorly enclosed, so that he was exposed to
the burning rays of the sun by day, and to the cold winds and damp
fog by night. But his mind was happy, and he would often say, 'If I
live to see this one ingathering, I may well exclaim, with happy
Simeon, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,
according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation. How
many ministers have wished they might die in their pulpits; and
would not dying in a spot like this, be even more blessed than
dying in a pulpit at home? I feel that it would.'

"Nor was it merely the pleasing state of things around him that
filled his mind with comfort. He would sometimes dwell on the
infinite compassion of God, and his own unworthiness, till his
strength was quite exhausted; and though he told Mr. Mason that he
had not the rapture which he had sometimes enjoyed, yet his mind
was calm and peaceful; and it was plainly perceptible, that earthly
passions had died way, and that he was enjoying sweet foretastes of
that rest into which he was so soon to enter. He would often say to
me, 'My meditations are very sweet, though my mind seems as much
weakened as my body. I have not had that liveliness of feeling,
which I have sometimes enjoyed, owing to my great weakness, but I
shall soon be released from shackles, and be where I can praise God
continually, without weariness. My thoughts delight to dwell on
these words, _There is no night there_.'

"I felt that the time of separation was fast approaching, and said
to him, 'My dear, I have one request to make; it is, that you would
pray much for George, during your few remaining days. I shall soon
be left alone, almost the only one on earth to pray for him, and I
have great confidence in your dying prayers.' He looked earnestly
at the little boy, and said, 'I will try to pray for him; but I
trust very many prayers will ascend for the dear child from our
friends at home, who will be induced to supplicate the more
earnestly for him, when they hear that he is left fatherless in a
heathen land.'

"On Wednesday, while looking in the glass, he seemed at once to
see symptoms of his approaching dissolution, and said, without
emotion, 'I have altered greatly--I am sinking into the grave very
fast--just on the verge.' Mr. Mason said to him, 'Is there nothing
we can do for you? Had we not better call the physician? Or shall
we try to remove you into town immediately?' After a few moments'
deliberation, it was concluded to defer the baptism of the male
applicants, and set out for home early the next morning. Nearly all
the female candidates had been examined, and as it is difficult for
them to come to town, it was thought best that Mr. Mason should
baptize them in the evening. We knelt, and Mr. Mason having prayed
for a blessing on the decision, we sat down to breakfast with
sorrowful hearts.

"While we were at the table, my beloved husband said, 'I shall soon
be thrown away for this world; but I hope the Lord Jesus will take
me up. That merciful Being, who is represented as passing by, and
having compassion on the poor cast-out infant, will not suffer me
to perish. O, I have no hope but in the wonderful, condescending,
infinite mercy of God, through his dear Son. I cast my poor
perishing soul, loaded with sin, as it is, upon his compassionate
arms, assured that all will he forever safe.' On seeing my tears,
he said, 'Are you not reconciled to the will of God, my love?'
When I told him I hoped I did not feel unreconciled, he continued,
'I have long ago, and many times, committed you and our little one
into the hands of our covenant God. He is the husband of the widow
and the father of the fatherless. _Leave thy fatherless children, I
will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me_, saith
the Lord. He will be your stay and support, when I am gone. The
separation will be but short. O, how happy I shall be to welcome
you to heaven.' He then addressed Mr. Mason, as follows:--'Brother,
I am heartily rejoiced, and bless God that you have arrived, and
especially am I gratified, that you are so much interested for the
poor Karens. You will, I am assured, watch over them, and take care
of them; and if some of them turn back, you will still care for
them. As to my dear wife and child, I know you will do all in your
power to make them comfortable. Mrs. B. will probably spend the
ensuing rains in Tavoy. She will be happy with you and Mrs. Mason;
that is, as happy as she can be in her state of loneliness. She
will mourn for me, and a widow's state is desolate and sorrowful at
best. But God will he infinitely better to her, than I have ever
been.' On the same day, he wished me to read some hymns on
affliction, sickness, death, &c. I took Wesley's Hymn Book, the
only one we had with us, and read several, among others, the one
beginning 'Ah, lovely appearance of death.'

"On Wednesday evening, thirty-four persons were baptized. Mr.
Boardman was carried to the waterside, though so weak that he could
hardly breathe without the continual use of the fan and the
smelling-bottle. The joyful sight was almost too much for his
feeble frame. When we reached the chapel, he said he would like to
sit up and take tea with us. We placed his cot near the table, and
having bolstered him up, we took tea together. He asked the
blessing, and did it with his right hand upraised, and in a tone
that struck me to the heart. It was the same tremulous, yet urgent,
and I had almost said, unearthly voice, with which my aged
grandfather used to pray. We now began to notice that brightening
of the mental faculties, which I had heard spoken of, in persons
near their end.

"After tea was removed, all the disciples present, about fifty in
number, gathered around him, and he addressed them for a few
moments in language like the following:--'I did hope to stay with
you till after Lord's-day, and administer to you once more the
Lord's Supper. But God is calling me away from you. I am about to
die, and shall soon be inconceivably happy in heaven. When I am
gone, remember what I have taught you; and O, be careful to
persevere unto the end, that when you die, we may meet one another
in the presence of God, never more to part. Listen to the word of
the new teacher and the teacheress as you have done to mine. The
teacheress will be very much distressed. Strive to lighten her
burdens, and comfort her by your good conduct. Do not neglect
prayer. The eternal God, to whom you pray, is unchangeable. Earthly
teachers sicken and die, but God remains forever the same. Love
Jesus Christ with all your hearts, and you will be forever safe.'
This address I gathered from the Karens, as I was absent preparing
his things for the night. Having rested a few minutes, he offered a
short prayer, and then with Mr. Mason's assistance, distributed
tracts and portions of Scripture to them all. Early the next
morning we left for home, accompanied by nearly all the males and
some of the females, the remainder returning to their homes in the
wilderness. Mr. Boardman was free from pain during the day, and
there was no unfavorable change, except that his mouth grew sore.
But at four o'clock in the afternoon, we were overtaken by a
violent shower of rain accompanied by lightning and thunder. There
was no house in sight, and we were obliged to remain in the open
air, exposed to the merciless storm. We covered him with mats and
blankets, and held our umbrellas over him, all to no purpose. I was
obliged to stand and see the storm beating upon him, till his
mattress and pillows were drenched with rain. We hastened on, and
soon came to a Tavoy house. The inhabitants at first refused us
admittance, and we ran for shelter into the out-houses. The shed I
happened to enter, proved to be the 'house of their gods,' and thus
I committed an almost unpardonable offence. After some persuasion
they admitted us into the house, or rather verandah, for they would
not allow us to sleep inside, though I begged the privilege for my
sick husband with tears. In ordinary cases, perhaps, they would
have been hospitable; but they knew that Mr. Boardman was a teacher
of a foreign religion, and that the Karens in our company had
embraced that religion.

"At evening worship, Mr. Boardman requested Mr. Mason to read the
thirty-fourth Psalm. He seemed almost spent, and said, 'This poor
perishing dust will soon be laid in the grave; but God can employ
other lumps of clay to perform his will, as easily as he has this
poor unworthy one.' I told him, I should like to sit up and watch
by him, but he objected, and said in a tender supplicating tone,
'Cannot we sleep together?' The rain still continued, and his cot
was wet, so that he was obliged to lie on the bamboo floor. Having
found a place where our little boy could sleep without danger of
falling through openings in the floor, I threw myself down,
without undressing, beside my beloved husband. I spoke to him often
during the night, and he said he felt well, excepting an
uncomfortable feeling in his mouth and throat. This was somewhat
relieved by frequent washings with cold water. Miserably wretched
as his situation was, he did not complain; on the contrary, his
heart seemed overflowing with gratitude. 'O,' said he, 'how kind
and good our Father in heaven is to me; how many are racked with
pain, while I, though near the grave, am almost free from distress
of body. I suffer nothing, _nothing_ to what you, my dear Sarah,
had to endure last year, when I thought I must lose you. And then I
have you to move me so tenderly. I should have sunk into the grave
ere this, but for your assiduous attention. And brother Mason is as
kind to me as if he were my own brother. And then how many, in
addition to pain of body, have anguish of soul, while my mind is
sweetly stayed on God.' On my saying, 'I hope we shall be at home
to-morrow night, where you can lie on your comfortable bed, and I
can nurse you as I wish,' he said, 'I want nothing that the world
can afford, but my wife and friends; earthly conveniences and
comforts are of little consequence to one so near heaven. I only
want them for your sake.' In the morning we thought him a little
better, though I perceived, when I gave him his sago, that his
breath was very short. He, however, took rather more nourishment
than usual, and spoke about the manner of his conveyance home. We
ascertained that by waiting until twelve o'clock, we could go the
greater part of the way by water.

"At about nine o'clock, his hands and feet grew cold, and the
affectionate Karens rubbed them all the forenoon, excepting a few
moments when he requested to be left alone. At ten o'clock, he was
much distressed for breath, and I thought the long dreaded moment
had arrived. I asked him, if he felt as if he was going home--'not
just yet,' he replied. On giving him a little wine and water, he
revived. Shortly after, he said, 'You were alarmed without cause
just now, dear--I know the reason of the distress I felt, but am
too weak to explain it to you.' In a few moments he said to me,
'Since you spoke to me about George, I have prayed for him almost
incessantly--more than in all my life before.'

"It drew near twelve, the time for us to go to the boat. We were
distressed at the thought of removing him, when evidently so near
the last struggle, though we did not think it so near as it really
was. But there was no alternative. The chilling frown of the
iron-faced Tavoyan was to us as if he was continually saying, 'be
gone.' I wanted a little broth for my expiring husband, but on
asking them for a fowl they said they had none, though at that
instant, on glancing my eye through an opening in the floor, I saw
three or four under the house. My heart was well nigh breaking.

"We hastened to the boat, which was only a few steps from the
house. The Karens carried Mr. Boardman first, and as the shore was
muddy, I was obliged to wait till they could return for me. They
took me immediately to him; but O, the agony of my soul, when I saw
the hand of death was on him! He was looking me full in the face,
but his eyes were changed, not dimmed, but brightened, and the
pupils so dilated, that I feared he could not see me. I spoke to
him--kissed him--but he made no return, though I fancied that he
tried to move his lips. I pressed his hand, knowing that if he
could, he would return the pressure; but, alas! for the first time,
he was insensible to my love, and forever. I had brought a glass of
wine and water already mixed, and a smelling-bottle, but neither
was of any avail to him now. Agreeably to a previous request, I
called the faithful Karens, who loved him so much, and whom he had
loved unto death, to come and watch his last gentle breathings, for
there was no struggle.

"Never, my dear parents, did one of our poor fallen race have less
to contend with, in the last enemy. Little George was brought to
see his dying father, but he was too young to know there was cause
for grief When Sarah died, her father said to George, 'Poor little
boy, you will not know to-morrow what you have lost to-day.' A deep
pang rent my bosom at the recollection of this, and a still deeper
one succeeded when the thought struck me, that though my little boy
may not know to-morrow what he has lost to-day, yet when years have
rolled by, and he shall have felt the unkindness of a deceitful,
selfish world, _he will know_.

"Mr. Mason wept, and the sorrowing Karens knelt down in prayer to
God--that God, of whom their expiring teacher had taught them--that
God, into whose presence the emancipated spirit was just
entering--that God, with whom they hope and expect to be happy
forever. My own feelings I will not attempt to describe. You may
have some faint idea of them, when you recollect what he was to me,
how tenderly I loved him, and, at the same time, bear in mind the
precious promises to the afflicted.

"We came in silence down the river, and landed about three miles
from our house. The Karens placed his precious remains on his
little bed, and with feelings which you can better imagine than I
describe, we proceeded homewards. The mournful intelligence had
reached town before us, and we were soon met by Moung Ing, the
Burman preacher. At the sight of us he burst into a flood of
tears. Next, we met the two native Christian sisters, who lived
with us. But the moment of most bitter anguish was yet to come on
our arrival at the house. They took him into the sleeping-room, and
when I uncovered his face, for a few moments, nothing was heard but
reiterated sobs. He had not altered--the same sweet smile, with
which he was wont to welcome me, sat on his countenance. His eyes
had opened in bringing him, and all present seemed expecting to
hear his voice; when the thought, that it was silent forever,
rushed upon us, and filled us with anguish sudden and unutterable.
There were the Burman Christians, who had listened so long, with
edification and delight, to his preaching--there were the Karens,
who looked to him as their guide, their earthly all--there were the
scholars whom he had taught the way to heaven, and the Christian
sisters, whose privilege it had been to wash, as it were, his feet.

"Early next morning, his funeral was attended, and all the
Europeans in the place, with many natives, were present. It may be
some consolation to you to know that everything was performed in as
decent a manner, as if he had been buried in our own dear native
land. By his own request, he was interred on the south side of our
darling first-born. It is a pleasant circumstance to me, that they
sleep _side by side_. But it is infinitely more consoling to
think, that their glorified spirits have met in that blissful
world, where sin and death never enter, and sorrow is unknown.

"Praying that we may be abundantly prepared to enter into our
glorious rest, I remain, my dear parents, your deeply afflicted,
but most affectionate child,

"Sarah H. Boardman."

* * * * *

Well might Mr. Judson say, "One of the brightest luminaries of Burmah is extinguished, dear brother Boardman is gone to his eternal rest. He fell gloriously at the head of his troops, in the arms of victory, thirty-seven wild Karens having been brought into the camp of our king since the beginning of the year, besides the thirty-two that were brought in during the two preceding years. Disabled by wounds, he was obliged through the whole of his last expedition, to be carried on a litter; but his presence was a host, and the Holy Spirit accompanied his dying whispers with almighty influence. Such a death, next to that of martyrdom, must be glorious in the eyes of Heaven. Well may we rest assured, that a triumphal crown awaits him on the great day, and 'Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!'" This is in the spirit of Montgomery's noble hymn, with an extract from which we will close the account of George Dana Boardman.

"Soldier of Christ, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ:
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy.

At midnight came the cry,
To meet thy God prepare!
He woke, and caught his Captain's eye;
Then, strong in faith and prayer

His spirit, with a bound,
Left its encumbering clay;
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground,
A darkened ruin lay."