Chapter X (2)

“Our intercourse with Mr. Judson is of a very pleasing nature, and we
feel happy to be permitted in the least degree to take off the edge of
his loneliness. It is affecting to hear his petitions for a long life,
to labor among the heathen, mingled as they are with panting
aspirations after heaven. He seems uniformly seriously cheerful. His
days and nights are spent in a room adjoining the native chapel, where
he spends all his time, except that devoted to meals (twice a day) and
exercise, and generally he has a sort of social conversation with some
one of the mission families in the evening. He is confining himself as
closely as possible to the completion of his translation of the
Scriptures. His exhortations to us all to exercise, are practically
enforced by his own example. He walks very early in the morning, rain
or shine; also after sunset. He told me that he had no doubt that so
much loss of health and life to foreigners in this climate is
principally due to their negligence on this point.”

But the time had at last come when Mr. Judson’s long domestic solitude was to end. Under date of April 10, 1834, we find in his journal the following important entry:

“Was married to Mrs. Sarah H. Boardman, who was born at Alstead, New
Hampshire, November 4, 1803, the eldest daughter of Ralph and Abiah O.
Hall—married to George D. Boardman, July 4, 1825—left a widow February
11, 1831, with one surviving child, George D. Boardman, born August
18, 1828.”

Nearly eight years of loneliness had passed since he laid his beloved Ann beneath the hopia-tree. He had arrived at the age of forty-six, when he married Mrs. Boardman. He found in her a kindred spirit. She had spent the three years of her widowhood in heroic toil among the Karens at Tavoy, and had turned persistently away from the urgent appeals of her friends in America to return home for her own sake and the sake of her little boy. She had resolved to continue her husband’s labors alone, and thus wrote concerning her purpose:

“As to my future walk, I feel, I trust, a desire to be guided by
unerring Wisdom. I have never been able to think of abandoning forever
the cause in which my beloved husband rejoiced to wear out his feeble
frame and sink into a premature grave. The death-bed scene has
inspired me with a fortitude, or I would hope, faith unknown before,
and encircled the missionary enterprise with a glory not until then
perceived.”

And again she says:

“When I first stood by the grave of my husband, I thought that I must
go home with George. But these poor, inquiring, and Christian Karens,
and the school-boys, and the Burmese Christians, would then be left
without any one to instruct them; and the poor, stupid Tavoyans would
go on in the road to death, with no one to warn them of their danger.
How then, oh, how can I go? We shall not be separated long. A few more
years, and we shall all meet in yonder blissful world, whither those
we love have gone before us.”

And so for three years this beautiful and intrepid woman continued her husband’s work. She was the guiding spirit of the mission. She pointed out the way of life to the Karen inquirers who came in from the wilderness. She conducted her schools with such tact and ability that when, afterward, an appropriation was obtained from the English Government for schools throughout the provinces, it was expressly stipulated that they should be “conducted on the plan of Mrs. Boardman’s schools at Tavoy.” She even made long missionary tours into the Karen jungles. With her little boy carried by her followers at her side, she climbed the mountain, traversed the marsh, forded the stream, and threaded the forest. On one of these trips she sent back a characteristic message to Mrs. Mason at Tavoy: “Perhaps you had better send the chair, as it is convenient to be carried over the streams when they are deep. You will laugh when I tell you that I have forded all the smaller ones.”

Mrs. E. C. Judson relates the following incident concerning her:[48]

“A single anecdote is related by Captain F——, a British officer,
stationed at Tavoy; and he used to dwell with much unction on the
lovely apparition which once greeted him among those wild, dreary
mountains. He had left Tavoy, accompanied by a few followers, I think
on a hunting expedition, and had strolled far into the jungle. The
heavy rains, which deluge this country in the summer, had not yet
commenced; but they were near at hand, and during the night had sent
an earnest of their coming, which was anything but agreeable. All
along his path hung the dripping trailers, and beneath his feet were
the roots of vegetables, half-bared, and half-imbedded in mud; while
the dark clouds, with the rain almost incessantly pouring from them,
and the crazy clusters of bamboo huts, which appeared here and there
in the gloomy waste, and were honored by the name of village, made up
a scene of desolation absolutely indescribable. A heavy shower coming
up as he approached a _zayat_ by the wayside, and far from even one of
those primitive villages, he hastily took refuge beneath the roof.
Here, in no very good humor with the world, especially Asiatic jungles
and tropic rains, he sulkily ‘whistled for want of thought,’ and
employed his eyes in watching the preparations for his breakfast.

“‘Uh! what wretched corners the world has, hidden beyond its oceans
and behind its trees!’

“Just as he had made this sage mental reflection, he was startled by
the vision of a fair, smiling face in front of the _zayat_, the
property of a dripping figure, which seemed to his surprised
imagination to have stepped that moment from the clouds. But the party
of wild Karen followers which gathered round her had a very human air;
and the slight burdens they bore, spoke of human wants and human
cares. The lady seemed as much surprised as himself; but she
courtesied with ready grace, as she made some pleasant remark in
English; and then turned to retire. Here was a dilemma. He could not
suffer the lady to go out into the rain, but—his miserable
accommodations, and still more miserable breakfast! He hesitated and
stammered; but her quick apprehension had taken in all at a glance,
and she at once relieved him from his embarrassment. Mentioning her
name and errand, she added, smiling, that the emergencies of the
wilderness were not new to her; and now she begged leave to put her
own breakfast with his, and make up a pleasant morning party. Then
beckoning to her Karens, she spoke a few unintelligible words, and
disappeared under a low shed—a mouldering appendage of the _zayat_.
She soon returned with the same sunny face, and in dry clothing; and
very pleasant indeed was the interview between the pious officer and
the lady-missionary. They were friends afterward; and the
circumstances of their first meeting proved a very charming
reminiscence.”

Soon after their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Judson were compelled to part with little George Boardman. He was but six years old, and yet had reached an age when a child begins to be, in a peculiar sense, the companion of his parents. But the children of Anglo-Saxon residents in the East have to be sent at an early age toward the setting sun; otherwise they are in danger of death under the debilitating influence of the Oriental climate; or if they get their growth at all, are liable to feebleness of mind and body. Such a separation between parent and child can not but be peculiarly distressing to the missionary. He devotes himself for life and expects to die on the field, and thus the parting bids fair to be final. Other Europeans and Americans are merely temporary residents in the East, and though also compelled to send their children home, may reasonably hope to clasp them in their arms once more after a short separation. The missionary’s child, on the other hand, must be permanently consigned to the care of distant strangers. This is, perhaps, the keenest suffering that falls to his lot. Who can fail to drop a tear over the scene of the Comstocks parting with their children as thus described by Dr. Kincaid:

“I shall never forget the parting scene of brother Comstock and his
wife with their children, when we sailed from the shores of Arracan.
They had made up their minds to entrust us with their two children, on
account of the difficulty of educating them in a heathen land. We were
together one day, at their house, when word came that the ship was
ready to sail, and we must prepare to embark immediately. Upon the
arrival of this message, which we had been expecting, Mrs. Comstock
arose from her seat, took her two children, one in each hand, and
walked with them toward a grove of tamarind trees near the house. When
she had walked some little distance, she paused a moment, looked at
each of her children with all a mother’s love, and imprinted an
affectionate kiss upon the forehead of each. She then raised her eyes
to heaven, silently invoked a blessing on their heads; returned to the
house, and delivering her children into my hands, said, ‘Brother
Kincaid, _this I do for my Saviour_.’

“Brother Comstock then took his two children by the hand, and led them
from the house toward the ship, while that tender mother gazed upon
them, as they walked away, _for the last time_. She saw them no more
on earth. God grant that she may meet them in heaven! Brother Comstock
accompanied his two children to the ship, which lay about two miles
off in the bay. When we had descended to the cabin, he entered one of
the state-rooms with his children. There he knelt with them in prayer,
laid his hands upon their heads, and bestowed a father’s blessing upon
them—the tears, all the while, streaming down his cheeks. This
affecting duty over, he resumed, at once, his usual calmness. He took
leave of me with a gentle pressure of the hand, and I followed him to
the side of the vessel, as he descended into the small boat which lay
alongside, and which was to convey him to the shore. Never shall I
forget the words, or the tone in which those words were uttered, as he
turned up his face, still bedewed with tears, and exclaimed, as the
boat moved away, ‘REMEMBER, BROTHER KINCAID, SIX MEN FOR ARRACAN!’

“I never saw brother or sister Comstock after that. The very day that
we took a pilot on board off Sandy Hook, April 28, 1843, was the day
that sister Comstock died, and in one year afterward, lacking three
days, that is, on the 25th of April, 1844, brother Comstock followed
her. Now they sleep side by side in the grave-yard at Ramree, under
the tamarind trees.”

It was a heavy day for Mrs. Judson when her husband carried to the ship _Cashmere_ the child[49] who had been the sharer of all her sufferings and griefs at Tavoy. It was well for her that a veil hid from her eyes the immediate future, else she might have seen the boy’s hairbreadth escape from pirates and the tortures of terror to which the shrinking child was subjected on board the ship which was bearing him away from his mother’s side.

While in Maulmain, Mr. Judson completed the Burman Bible. It was about the time of his marriage to Mrs. Boardman that he finished the first rough draft. Seventeen years before in Rangoon, all he had to offer of the precious Scriptures to the first Burman inquirer was two half sheets containing the first five chapters of Matthew.[50] From that time on, beneath all his toils and sufferings and afflictions, there moved the steady undercurrent of this great purpose and labor of Bible translation. It was a task for which he had little relish. He much preferred dealing with the Burmans individually, and persuading them, one by one, of the truth of the Gospel. In a letter which states his purpose of relinquishing for many months the pleasure of laboring in the Karen jungles in order to shut himself up to the work of translation, he says, “The tears flow as I write.” Alluding to this same labor of translation, he writes to the Corresponding Secretary, “And so, God willing and giving us life and strength, we hope to go on, but we hope still to be allowed to feel that our great work is to preach the Gospel _viva voce_, and build up the glorious kingdom of Christ among this people.”

And when, the Bible being finished, the Board at home pressed him to undertake the Dictionary, he sorrowfully exclaims:

“How can I think of leaving this population to perish before me, while
I am poring over manuscripts and proof-sheets? I must not do it; I can
not do it, unless the Board expressly order it; and then I will obey,
believing that _vox senatus vox Dei_. But before they order the only
preaching missionary in the place to spend his time in making books,
and above all a dictionary, I beg they will deeply consider the
propriety of appointing him a preaching colleague.”

But the translation of the Bible was essentially necessary to the permanent establishment of Christianity in Burmah, and no other living man was qualified for the work. And so, in the brief intervals of preaching, and teaching, and imprisonment, and jungle travel, secluding himself in the garret at Rangoon, and afterward in the little room attached to the mission-house at Maulmain, he quietly wrought at this prodigious task, until, at last, he could write on January 31, 1834, at the age of fifty-six:

“Thanks be to God, I can _now_ say I have attained. I have knelt down
before Him, with the last leaf in my hand, and imploring His
forgiveness for all the sins which have polluted my labors in this
department, and His aid in future efforts to remove the errors and
imperfections which necessarily cleave to the work, I have commended
it to His mercy and grace; I have dedicated it to His glory. May He
make His own inspired word, now complete in the Burman tongue, the
grand instrument of filling all Burmah with songs of praise to our
great God and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Some of the peculiar ideas that controlled him in the work of translation, and some of the special difficulties he encountered, are disclosed in his letters:

“My ideas of translating are very different from those of some
missionaries, better men than myself, but mistaken, I think, in this
particular. I consider it the work of a man’s whole life to procure a
_really good_ translation of even the New Testament in an untried
language. I could write much on this subject, but I have neither time
nor disposition. I would only say that, in many instances, missionary
labor has been dreadfully misdirected, and hundreds of thousands most
foolishly thrown away. As to us, we wish to proceed _slow_ and _sure_,
and to see to it that whatever we do, in regard to the inspired word,
is _well done_. About four months ago, being convinced that the New
Testament, notwithstanding all my labor upon it, was still in a very
imperfect state, brother Wade and myself undertook a thorough
revision. We have now done one-quarter of it; and I have some hope
that by the time the printer and press arrive, we shall be able to
warrant the whole. After that, we propose to work and rework at the
precious book of Psalms, until we can venture to warrant that also.
And so, God willing, and giving us life and strength, we hope to go
on.... Allow me to suggest whether the exegetical works of Stuart,
Robinson, Stowe, Ripley, Bush, Noyes, and such like, with some of the
best German works, ought not to be sent out to the library, as soon as
they come from the press, without waiting for an application to be
made for them. I frequently see a sterling work on the cover of the
_Herald_ or _Magazine_, and am ready to scream, with some variations,
‘The book, the book! my kingdom for the book!’ Yes, a kingdom, if the
same ship which brought the notice had brought the work too; whereas I
have to wait for letters to cross the ocean twice or three times, at
least, and thus two or three years’ use of the book is lost, during
which time I am, perhaps, working upon that very portion of Scripture
which that book is intended to illustrate.”

Again he writes to the Rev. Dr. Sharp:

“MAULMAIN, _June_ 28, 1833.

“I ought to have written you long ago; but necessity has no law. I
have lately entered upon a plan by which I hope to finish the
translation of the Old Testament in two years. I find by experience
that I can dispose of twenty-five or thirty verses per day, by giving
all my time to the work. One-third of the whole is already done. You
may, perhaps, wonder why I make such a tedious work of translating,
when some persons dispatch the whole New Testament, and perhaps part
of the Old, within a year or two after entering their field of labor.
There are two ways of translating—the one original, the other
second-hand. The first must be adopted by a missionary whose lot falls
in a section of the globe where there is no translation of the
Scriptures in any cognate language, or in any language known to the
learned men of the country. In that case, he must spend some years in
reading a great many books, and in acquiring a competent stock of the
language; that, like as the spider spins her web from her own bowels,
he may be able to extract the translation from his own brain. The
other mode may be advantageously adopted by a missionary who has in
his hand the Bible, already translated into some language known by
learned natives in the country. In that case, he has only to get a
smattering of their vernacular, enough to superintend their
operations, and then parcel out the work, and it is done by steam.
There have been but few original translations. That by Ziegenbalg and
his associates, in Tamil, has served for all the dialects in the south
of India. That by Carey and his associates, in Sanscrit and Bengalee,
has been the basis of all the other translations which they have
conducted. Morrison’s Chinese translation will probably be transferred
into all the cognate languages; and the Taling, Karen, and Lah-wah,
together with the Siamese, and other Shan translations, will be
obtained more or less directly from the Burman. I mention the above as
specimens merely; not intending to imply that they are the only
_original_ translations that have been made. Nor would I be understood
to speak disparagingly of second-hand translations. If the partners
employed are faithful, a second-hand translation may be superior to an
original one. At any rate, it will probably be more idiomatic, and in
all cases, when practicable, it ought undoubtedly to be attempted as a
first essay; and as the missionary advances in the language, he can
gradually raise it to any degree of perfection.

“But I sadly fear that, if I prolong this letter, it will leave my
to-day’s task of twenty verses in the rear.”

The work of translating was done thoroughly and conscientiously. Every Hebrew and Greek word was turned as far as possible into its exact Burmese equivalent. The Greek word for baptism was justly translated into Burmese, _Ya-kneat mengalah_, that is, the water-bathing or immersing religious rite. But it is taking a long step to infer from this that Mr. Judson approved of a new version in English, which should discard the thoroughly acclimated English word _baptize_, and substitute the word _immerse_. His death occurring just as a new project of such a version was appearing on the horizon, he has, of course, left behind no autographic testimony on this subject. That his name can not be claimed as on the side of such a version may be learned from a hitherto unpublished letter written by his widow within three years of his death:

“There is one thing that annoys me a good deal—the New Bible
Versionists claim Dr. J., and I know (though I do not feel brave
enough to oppose my bare assertion to the ‘weight of testimony’ they
would hurl at my head) that nobody could disapprove of a new English
version of the Scriptures more heartily and entirely than he. He was
very strenuous about his Burmese version, and would no doubt have
persevered in his translation if the whole world had been against him.
He considered _baptize_ an English word, in virtue of its long use,
and thought that it had no complete synonym in the language. It would
be a new word to introduce into the Burmese, and would only add to the
peculiar mystic importance which always attaches to the ordinance in a
heathen mind; and, besides, it was perfectly translatable. The
_ya-kneat mengalah_ (literally, the _water-bathing_, or immersing
_religious rite_) of the Burmans is definite and dignified, and
without an equivalent in meaning in English. The circular of the new
society reached Maulmain a month too late; but previous to that he had
spoken to me in terms of strong reprobation of the movements of the
New Versionists. He was a strong, thorough Baptist; he admired the
Baptist principle and policy, well carried out; despised all
imitations of other denominations, and thought the Baptists ought to
be willing to stand for what they really are—the only true
representatives of religious freedom in the world. But the abandonment
of a word in common use for centuries, and so slightly equivocal in
its meaning, he would have regarded as the very extreme of
childishness. I have no doubt that Dr. —— and others are honest in
claiming him; and I do not know but he may have said and written many
things, especially when so deeply interested in the issue of his
Burmese version, not difficult for them to appropriate; but I do know
that he never contemplated a new English version for general
circulation, and that what he heard of the new movements caused him
deep pain.”

Great as was the task of thus scrupulously translating the Bible, the revision was still more laborious. Seven years were spent in revising the first work. It was a mental peculiarity of Mr. Judson’s never to leave a thing alone while it could possibly be improved. His besetting sin was, in his own expressive words, alluded to before, a _lust for finishing_, and it was not until 1840 that he could say:

“On the 24th of October last, I enjoyed the great happiness of
committing to the press the last sheet of the new edition of the
Burmese Bible. It makes about twelve hundred pages quarto. We are
sending you several copies by the present conveyance....

“As for myself, I have been almost entirely confined to the very
tedious work of revising the Old Testament. The revision of about
one-half is completed, and the books from 1st Samuel to Job,
inclusive, have been printed in an edition of two thousand. We should
have put the first volume to press some time ago, had we not been
obliged to wait for paper, the London paper not matching the American;
and now, though paper has arrived, brother Hancock contemplates going
to America for new fonts of type, in several languages, and brother
Cutter has gone on another visit to Ava, so that we shall not probably
recommence printing the Old Testament till his return. I am the more
satisfied with this arrangement from having just received a complete
set of Rosenmüller on the Old Testament, and some other valuable
works, in studying which I am very desirous of going over the whole
ground once more.... I thought that I had finished the revision of the
New Testament above a month ago; but there is no end to revising while
a thing is in the press; so I continued working at it until I went to
Dong-yan, and even later; for it was not until the 22d instant that
the last proof-sheet went to press....

“The work was finished—that is, the revision and printing—on the 24th
October last, and a happy day of relief and joy it was to me. I have
bestowed more time and labor on the revision than on the first
translation of the work, and more, perhaps, than is proportionate to
the actual improvement made. Long and toilsome research among the
biblical critics and commentators, especially the German, was
frequently requisite to satisfy my mind that my first position was the
right one.”

In the glow of enthusiasm that attended the completion of this task of twenty-four years, and believing that the Burmans at that time were especially thirsty for the Word of Life, Mr. Judson advocated the almost wholesale distribution of the Bible throughout the land with a warmth and earnestness which he afterward saw good reasons for tempering.

“The Bible cause in this country is now at a very low ebb. I once
indulged the hope that I should live to see a complete copy of the
whole Bible (bound in one volume, so as not to be liable to be
scattered) deposited in every town and village throughout Burmah and
Arracan. It is true that many thousand copies would be requisite;
great hardships would be incurred and some sturdy perseverance would
have to be put in requisition. But the work once accomplished, there
would be seed sown throughout the country that, with the blessing of
God, would spring up in abundant fruit to His glory. From the habits
of the people who frequently assemble in large or small parties at the
house of the schoolmaster, or chief person in the village, to listen
to some one reading from a religious book, it appears to me that to
deposit the Bible at the principal place of resort in every village is
the least we can do for Burmah; and that such a plan will tell more
effectually than any other to fill the country with the knowledge of
divine truth.”

These views he greatly modified in his later years, as we learn from the following interesting passage in one of Mrs. E. C. Judson’s letters to Dr. Wayland:

“I do not know whether I ought to try to give Dr. J.’s opinion of the
Old Testament, for two reasons: first, I do not know how much _he_
would have thought it best to express; and secondly, I can not be very
positive what his opinions were. He was very fond of speculation, and
had a habit, in private, of thinking aloud, so that although it was
easy enough to learn his real views by asking, a mere listener would
be liable to mistakes. My impression, drawn from many a long talk, is
that he considered the Old Testament as the Scriptures given to the
Jews especially, and, as a whole, applicable to them and them only. He
did not like the distinction commonly drawn between the moral and
ceremonial law, and sometimes spoke, with an earnestness amounting to
severity, of the constant use made of the Ten Commandments by
Christians. He thought the Old Testament very important, as
explanatory and corroborative of the New—as a portion of the
inspiration which came from God, etc., but binding on Christians only
so far as repeated in the New Testament. He used to speak of the
Mosaic law as fulfilled in Christ, and so having no further power
whatever; and to say that we had no right to pick out this as moral
and therefore obligatory, and the other as ceremonial, and so no
longer demanding obedience. _Practically_ we had nothing to do with
the Old Testament laws.

“I think he was of the opinion that the Bible, as a whole, without the
living teacher, was of but little use, at least that it never ought to
be regarded as a substitute. In the power of the Gospels to make their
way among the heathen he had more faith. He had reason; for a great
many Burmans owed their awakening, if not their conversion, to the
Gospel of Matthew, though not more, perhaps, than to the ‘View’ and
the ‘Golden Balance.’[51]

“I recollect, too, some remarks that he once made in this country
about lazy Christians evading the obligation to preach the Gospel, or
do good personally, by placing a Bible in the hands of those who would
never read it; which compared very well with my impression of his
views afterward. Perhaps you will recollect a remark in one of the
letters to Mr. Hough, expressing a fear ‘that the Scriptures will be
out of the press before there will be any church to read them.’

“In comparing what he has written, what I have heard him say, and the
course he pursued, I am led to the conclusion that, though he regarded
the Old Testament Scriptures as much more important while engaged in
translating and revising, than afterward, the very study, the
prayerful as well as critical examination necessary to the
accomplishment of the work, led him by degrees to what some might
consider a comparatively extravagant estimate of the New
Testament—especially the Gospels. He preached almost exclusively from
the teachings of Christ, during his last years; and when I once
introduced some lessons from the Old Testament into my Bible-classes,
he compared it to groping among shadows, when I might just as well
have the noonday sun.

“He spoke also of his favoring the distribution of so many Bibles,
after his revision, as the greatest mistake he ever made; though he
said he was betrayed into it by Mr. ——’s wonderful reports and his own
subsequent impression, that all Burmah was crying for books. He once
said, in relation to a man who had stumbled on the Old Testament, and
apostatized: ‘It is the last thing such a fellow as he ought even to
have touched. I am more than ever convinced that _our_ business is to
propagate the _Gospel_, scatter the good news of salvation, and let
everything else alone.’

“With all this, he has told me that he felt, when making his
translation, an almost overpowering sense of the awfulness of his
work, and an ever-present conviction that every word was as from the
lips of God.”

In regard to the merits of his Burman Bible, Mr. Judson’s estimate was very modest. He writes:

“The _beau ideal_ of translation, so far as it concerns the poetical
and prophetical books of the Old Testament, I profess not to have
attained. If I live many years, of which I have no expectation, I
shall have to bestow much more labor upon those books. With the New
Testament I am rather better satisfied, and the testimony of those
acquainted with the language is rather encouraging. At least, I hope
that I have laid a good foundation for my successors to build upon....

“As to the merits of the translation, I must leave others to judge. I
can only say that, though I have seldom done anything to my own
satisfaction, I am better satisfied with the translation of the New
Testament than I ever expected to be. The language is, I believe,
simple, plain, intelligible; and I have endeavored, I hope
successfully, to make every sentence a faithful representation of the
original. As to the Old Testament, I am not so well satisfied. The
historical books are, perhaps, done pretty well; but the poetical and
prophetical books are doubtless susceptible of much improvement, not
merely in point of style, but in the rendering of difficult passages,
about which the most eminent scholars are not yet agreed.”

How far his own humble view falls short of doing justice to the excellence of his monumental task, may be gathered from the following statement by the late Dr. Wayland:

“From the incidental allusions to it in Dr. Judson’s letters and
journals, we may form some conception of the labor which he spent upon
this work. He had enjoyed the best opportunities which this country
then afforded for the study of interpretation; and his progress in
this department of knowledge had awakened the highest expectations of
his future success as a translator. He had made himself familiar with
the Burmese language to a degree never before attained by a foreigner.
He determined, if it were possible, to transfer the ideas of the Holy
Scriptures, from their original languages, into Burman, in such a
manner that his work should need as little revision as possible by his
successors. He had an intense desire for rendering perfect every labor
which he undertook; indeed, he said of himself, that one of his
failings was ‘a lust for finishing.’ Hence he availed himself of all
the means of information which the progress of biblical science,
either in Germany or America, placed within his reach. As early as the
visit of Mrs. Ann Judson to this country, his demand for books was
large, and it was all for the very best, the foundation books. I well
remember the pleasure with which I stripped my library of what I
considered some of its choicest treasures, to supply a part of his
most urgent necessities. Thus he continued until he had surrounded
himself with a most valuable apparatus for carrying on his work in the
manner which its importance deserved.

“While, however, he thus sought for aid from all the sources of modern
and ancient learning, it is manifest from the whole of his
correspondence that he used them all with the discretion of a master
mind. It was not in his power to substitute the working of other
intellects for the working of his own. He weighed, with critical
caution, every recension of the text. He adopted no interpretation
unless either convinced of its truth, or else sure that it was the
nearest approximation to the truth that could be made in the present
state of our knowledge. In order to reach this result, no labor was
too great, and no investigation too protracted. United with all this
that was intellectual, there was, in his case, a mind deeply impressed
with its own fallibility, and turning with unutterable longing to the
Holy Spirit for guidance and illumination. The importance of his work
to millions of immortal souls was ever present to his view. He had
been called by the providence of God to unfold to a whole nation, in
their own language, the revelation of the Most High. He conceived it
to be a momentous undertaking; and a heavy weight would have rested on
his soul if a single idea in the Scriptures had been obscurely
rendered in consequence of haste, impatience, negligence, or culpable
ignorance on the part of the translator.

“But after he had satisfied himself as to the meaning of the original,
a most difficult labor yet remained to be accomplished. It must be now
transferred into a language peculiar and strongly idiomatic, and,
moreover, a language destitute of terms in which to express the
elementary and peculiar ideas of the New Testament. To furnish himself
in this respect was the daily labor of his life. He read Burmese prose
and poetry wherever he could find it. He was always surrounded by
Burmese assistants and transcribers. As fast as his missionary
brethren became acquainted with the language, he was incessantly
calling upon them for corrections. They cheerfully aided him in this
respect to the utmost of their power. Every correction or emendation
he examined with the minutest care. Many—I think he says most—of them
he adopted; and none of them were rejected without the most careful
and diligent inquiry.

“The result of this able and indefatigable labor was such as might
have been expected. Competent judges affirm that Dr. Judson’s
translation of the Scriptures is the most perfect work of the kind
that has yet appeared in India. On this subject it will not be
inappropriate to introduce a few sentences from the pen of a gentleman
high in rank in India, himself a distinguished linguist, and a
proficient in the Burmese language:

“‘To Judson it was granted, not only to found the spiritual Burman
Church of Christ, but also to give it the entire Bible in its own
vernacular, thus securing that Church’s endurance and ultimate
extension; the instances being few or none, of that word, after it has
once struck root in any tongue, being ever wholly suppressed. Divine
and human nature alike forbid such a result; for, when once it has
become incorporated in a living tongue, holiness and love join hands
with sin and weakness to perpetuate that word’s life and dominion. We
honor Wickliffe and Luther for their labors in their respective mother
tongues; but what meed of praise is due to Judson for a translation of
the Bible, _perfect as a literary work_, in a language so foreign to
him as the Burmese? Future ages, under God’s blessing, may decide this
point, when his own forebodings, as he stood and pondered over the
desolate, ruinous scene at Pugan, shall be fulfilled.

“‘One and twenty years after his first landing at Rangoon, Judson
finished his translation of the whole Bible; but, not satisfied with
this first version, six more years were devoted to a revision of this
great work; and on the 24th of October, 1840, the last sheet of the
new edition was printed off. The revision cost him more time and labor
than the first translation; for what he wrote in 1823 remained the
object of his soul: “I never read a chapter without pencil in hand,
and Griesbach and Parkhurst at my elbow; and it will be an object to
me through life to bring the translation to such a state that it may
be a standard work.” The best judges pronounce it to be all that he
aimed at making it, and also, what with him never was an object, an
imperishable monument of the man’s genius. We may venture to hazard
the opinion that as Luther’s Bible is now in the hands of Protestant
Germany, so, three centuries hence, Judson’s Bible will be the Bible
of the Christian churches of Burmah.’

“The following extract from a letter written in November, 1852, by a
missionary in Burmah, expresses very fully the estimation in which
this version is held by those who are daily in the habit of using it,
and of commending it to the natives:

“‘The translation of the Holy Scriptures into the Burman language by
the late Dr. Judson is admitted to be the best translation in India;
that is, the translation has given more satisfaction to his
contemporaries and successors than any translation of the Bible into
any other Eastern language has done to associate missionaries in any
other parts of India. It is free from all obscurity to the Burmese
mind. It is read and understood perfectly. Its style and diction are
as choice and elegant as the language itself, peculiarly honorific,
would afford, and conveys, doubtless, the mind of the Spirit as
perfectly as can be.’

“Judson might well have adopted the words of the blessed Eliot, the
apostle to the Indian tribes, when he had finished his translation of
the Scriptures into their dialect—‘Prayer and pains, with the blessing
of God, can accomplish anything.’”

Having diverged in order to give the reader a general idea of this work of translating the Bible into Burmese, we again take up the thread of Mr. Judson’s life at the point where he has just finished the first rough draft in 1834.[52] He entered with ardor upon the work of revision without neglecting, however, his favorite employments of teaching and preaching. A letter from Mrs. Judson to her husband’s mother shows his ceaseless, every-day activity:

“Mr. Judson preaches _every_ Lord’s day to a crowded assembly, and
_every evening_ to a congregation averaging thirty. We find our old
chapel too small, and are about having a new one erected. The native
assistants go about the town every day preaching the Gospel, and Mr.
Judson holds a meeting with them every morning before breakfast, when
he listens to their reports, prays with them, gives them instruction,
etc. Besides this, the care of the Burman Church, ninety-nine in
number, devolves upon him, as does all the revision, superintendence
of the press, etc., etc., etc. He has lately baptized eighteen
persons—seven English soldiers, five Indo-Britons, three Burmans, one
Hindoo, one Arracanese, and one Mahometan. The latter is faithful old
_Koo-chil_, the Hindoo cook mentioned in Mrs. Judson’s ‘Narrative.’
The poor old man resisted long and stubbornly the truth, and we were
sometimes almost discouraged about him. But divine grace was too
mighty for him, and on last Lord’s day we saw him bow beneath the
Salwen’s yielding wave, and rise, I trust, to ‘newness of life.’ Two
others have applied for baptism, and there are many hopeful inquirers
both among European and natives.”

The Rev. Dr. Malcolm, who visited Burmah in 1836, gives a glimpse of the interior of Mr. Judson’s _zayat_:

“Our first Sabbath in this dark land was, of course, full of interest.
In the morning we worshipped with the Burman congregation in the
_zayat_. About seventy were present, nearly all Christians. Seldom
have I seen so attentive and devout an audience. They sat, of course,
on the floor, where mats, made of bamboo, were spread for their
accommodation, a large bamboo, about eighteen inches from the floor,
serving as a rest to the back. In prayer the Americans all knelt, and
the rest leaned forward on their elbows, putting their palms together,
and at the close of the petition, all responded an audible _Amen_. Mr.
J. preached with much apparent earnestness, and all listened with rapt
attention. Several inquirers were present, some of whom applied for
baptism.”

The same observant traveller has drawn a word-picture of Mr. Judson’s personal appearance at this time:

“As my eye rested on this loved little company, it was sweet to
contemplate the venerable founder of the mission, sitting there to
rejoice in the growth of the cause he had so assiduously and painfully
sustained. His labors and sufferings for years; his mastery of the
language; his translation of the whole Word of God; and his being
permitted now to be the pastor of a church containing over a hundred
natives, make him the most interesting missionary now alive. What a
mercy that he yet lives to devote to his people his enlarged powers of
doing good! And we may hope he will very long be spared. His age is
but forty-seven; his eye is not dim; not a gray hair shows itself
among his full auburn locks; his moderate-sized person seems full of
vigor; he walks almost every evening a mile or two at a quick pace;
lives with entire temperance and regularity, and enjoys, in general,
steadfast health. May a gracious God continue to make him a blessing
more and more.”

From this point on, our narrative naturally assumes a more domestic character; and we are permitted to see Mr. Judson’s deep tenderness as a husband and a father. Some of the greatest objects of his life having been achieved, and his health beginning to decline, his restless spirit turned instinctively to family life for repose. On October 31, 1835, his heart was cheered by the birth of a daughter, whose name, Abby Ann,[53] associates her with his only sister, from whom he had parted so many years before, and also with her whom he left sleeping beneath the hopia-tree. While writing to his mother and sister, he mentions the birth of his child and betrays with what delight the care-wearied man, after his prolonged solitude, turned for rest to the amenities of home:

“MAULMAIN, _November_ 1, 1835.

“Since I have attained, in some measure, the great objects for which I
came out to the East, and do not find it necessary to be so
exclusively and severely engrossed in missionary labors as I have been
for a long course of years, my thoughts and affections revert more
frequently, of late, to the dear home where I was born and brought up;
and now especially, after having been childless many years, the birth
of a daughter, and the revival of parental feelings, remind me afresh
of the love with which my dear mother watched over my infancy, and of
all the kindness with which she led me up from youth to man. And then
I think of my earliest playmate, my dear sister, and delight to
retrace the thousand incidents which marked our youthful intercourse,
and which still stand, in the vista of memory, tokens of reciprocated
brotherly and sisterly affection. Surely, I should have to call myself
a most ungrateful son and brother, had I abandoned you forever in this
world, as I have done, for any other cause than that of the kingdom of
the glorious Redeemer.

“It is a great comfort, however, that, though separated in this world,
we are all interested in the covenant love of that Redeemer, and can
therefore hope that we shall spend our eternity together, in His
blissful presence. It is my particular object, in writing at the
present time, to engage your prayers for our little Abigail, that she
may become early interested in the same divine love, and be one of our
happy number in the bright world above. Her mother and myself both
hope that the little circumstance of her being your namesake will tend
to bring her more frequently to your remembrance at the throne of
grace, and secure your prayers in her behalf.

“I alluded above to the attainment of the great objects of my
missionary undertaking. I used to think, when first contemplating a
missionary life, that, if I should live to see the Bible translated
and printed in some new language, and a church of one hundred members
raised up on heathen ground, I should anticipate death with the
peaceful feelings of old Simeon. The Bible in Burmese will, I expect,
be out of the press by the end of this year; and—not to speak of
several hundred Burmans and Karens baptized at different stations—the
Burmese church in Maulmain, of which I am pastor, contains ninety-nine
native members, and there will doubtless be several more received
before the end of the year. Unite with me, my dear mother and sister,
in gratitude to God, that He has preserved me so long, and,
notwithstanding my entire unworthiness, has made me instrumental of a
little good.”

In a letter to his step-son, who had by this time arrived in America, he alludes to the infant Abigail, and encloses a child’s prayer in verse:

“MAULMAIN, _August_ 23, 1836.

“I send you a little idol, that you may not forget what sort of gods
they worship in this country, and your mother is sending you another.
But, what is better, I send you a little book, called the ‘Only Son,’
which I took so much pleasure in reading that I want to have you read
it through two or three times. I am afraid you will forget how much
your mother loves you. This book will help you to remember. I am not
much afraid that you will ever become like poor Jonah, whose history
you will find in the book. But when any companions shall attempt to
persuade you to join them in doing some bad thing, remember poor
Jonah, and remember his poor mother, and remember how dreadfully your
own mother would suffer, and how she would go down to the grave in
sorrow, if you should become a bad boy. You can not tell how much she
loves you. She talks about you every day; and we never pray together
without praying for you. And though it can not be that I should love
you as much as your mother does, yet I love you very much, my dear
George. And I am always sorry that I was so closely engaged in study,
that I was able to spend but very little time with you, after we came
up from Tavoy. When I think of that last pleasant, sad afternoon I
carried you down to Amherst, and left you on board, the _Cashmere_, I
love you very much, and want to see you again. Perhaps we shall live
to see you come out a minister of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.
We sometimes pray that, if it be the will of God, it may be so.

“Your little sister Abigail is a sweet, fat baby. You would love her
very much if you were here. Pray for her, that she may live, and may
become a child of God.”

_Prayer for Little George._

“Remember, Lord, my mother dear,
Who lives in distant heathen land;
By day and night wilt Thou be near,
To guard her with Thy powerful hand.

“And since another babe has come,
To fill the place which once was mine,
In mother’s arms to find a home,
And soft on mother’s breast recline,

“O, listen to me from Thy throne,
And let a brother’s prayer prevail,
To draw the choicest blessings down
On little sister Abigail.”

When his son, Adoniram Brown Judson,[54] born April 7, 1837, was almost a year old, Mr. Judson wrote to his own mother and sister a letter in which, with playful tenderness, he alludes to both his children:

“MAULMAIN, _March_ 16, 1838.

“I remember you in my prayers every day, and hope that you do not
forget me, my wife, and dear little Abby and Adoniram. Yours of
October 15, 1837, I received on the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Stevens in
the _Rosabella_, the 19th of last month. They gave me an account of
their visit to Plymouth, and their interview with you both, and how
you looked and what you said, and he remembered the exhortation to
‘preach the three R’s.’ He remarked, that my mother was the very
picture of the venerable, and _she_ observed that everything about the
house was kept in remarkably nice order. And they both thought that,
from your appearance and remarks, you were in the enjoyment of much
religious feeling. How I wish I could see you once more! I send you a
copy of the Burman New Testament, which may be a gratifying curiosity,
if nothing more.

“We have just carried Adoniram through the small-pox by inoculation.
He had it very lightly, and is now quite recovered. He is one of the
prettiest, brightest children you ever saw. His mother says he
resembles his uncle Elnathan. Abby is growing fast. She runs about,
and talks Burman quite fluently, but no English. I am not troubled
about her not getting English at present, for we shall have to send
her home in a few years, and then she will get it of course. She
attends family and public worship with us, and has learned to sit
still and behave herself. But Fen, or Pwen, as the natives call him,
when he is brought into the chapel, and sees me in my place, has the
impudence to roar out Bah (as the Burmans call father), with such a
stentorian voice, that his nurse is obliged to carry him out again.

“Many thanks, dear sister, for your last present of fifty dollars,
which I have received. I am obliged to look after the rupees a little
more carefully now than when I had no little ones to provide for.

“I suppose you take the _Magazine_; so I do not introduce missionary
affairs into my private letters.”

But Mr. Judson’s iron purposes were not melted in the ease and quiet of home life. He did not cease his efforts to save his poor Burmans. A few weeks after the birth of his son, he wrote:

“My days are commonly spent in the following manner: the morning in
reading Burman; the forenoon in a public _zayat_ with some assistant,
preaching to those who call; the afternoon in preparing or revising
something for the press, correcting proof-sheets, etc.; the evening in
conducting worship in the native chapel, and conversing with the
assistants or other native Christians or inquirers.”

With what genuine satisfaction must such a worker have looked back upon his work of a quarter of a century in Burmah!

“_July_ 20, 1838.

“I have lately,” he writes, “had the happiness of baptizing the first
Toung-thoo that ever became a Christian. I hope he will be the
first-fruits of a plentiful harvest. God has given me the privilege
and happiness of witnessing and contributing a little, I trust, to the
conversion of the first Burmese convert, the first Peguan, the first
Karen, and the first Toung-thoo. Three of them I baptized. The Karen
was approved for baptism; but just then, brother Boardman removing to
Tavoy, I sent the Karen with him, and he was baptized there.