A few people still lived among the old abandoned government buildings, temples, and pagodas that lined the river, but they were mostly outcasts or the dreaded “dacoits.” The dacoits were bands of armed pirates who preyed on boats going up and down the river. One band of dacoits tried to swoop in and raid the boat Adoniram and James Colman were traveling on, but the crew fended them off by firing a volley of gunshots over their heads. Since no one knew whether they or other bands of dacoits would try to attack again, the month-long trip to Ava was tense.
Finally, though, on January 25, 1820, as Adoniram looked out over the elaborate dragon-head shaped bow of the boat, he saw the golden steeple of the royal palace come into view. Soon the boat was safely tied up at the river’s edge in Ava.
Adoniram and James Colman spent the next day trying to obtain permission for an audience with the king. This would have turned out to be an impossible task, except for one thing: Mya-day-men, the old viceroy of Rangoon. The viceroy was now the highest-ranking official in King Bagyidaw’s court, and although he had never been great friends with Adoniram, Mya-day-men’s wife, the vicereine, had been a particularly good friend of Ann’s. As a result, the viceroy agreed to help Adoniram get an audience with the king. Later that night, a messenger arrived at the boat with a letter telling Adoniram that he and James Colman could have an audience with the king the following day.
There was no sleep for the two missionaries that night. They both lay on their straw mats on the deck of the boat praying and talking. The future direction of Christianity in Burma hung in the balance. The following day they would know which way the balance would tip.
Both men were up at sunrise. They each had special clothes made for the occasion of entering the Golden Presence, as having an audience with the king was called. It had been difficult to know what to wear, but in the end they had decided on long robes like those the Buddhist monks wore, only theirs were white, not the distinctive saffron color of the monks’ robes. Adoniram hoped the robes would remind the king that they were “priests,” just not Buddhist ones.
Dust from the unpaved streets swirled around Adoniram and James Colman as they made their way to the Golden Palace. Each of them carried three volumes of the Bible. Adoniram had paid a lot of money to have the cover of each Bible overlaid in gold leaf as a suitable gift for the king. When they reached the guardhouse set into the outer wall of the palace, a guard ordered them to remove their shoes. He then ushered them into the outer corridor.
Once the men were in the outer corridor, one of the many officials milling around beckoned them into a large hall. Adoniram gasped as he entered. Every inch of the room, and everything in it—the chair, the pillars, the fans—was made of gold. There were twelve Burmese men standing in the room. Adoniram supposed some were servants and others important dignitaries who had come for an audience with the king as well.
Suddenly there was a commotion at the far end of the room, and a servant ran in. “The golden feet are proceeding this way!” he yelled as he dove onto the carpeted floor. Every Burmese man in the room followed his example, each lying face down, his face flat against the floor.
Adoniram looked at James Colman. “I suppose it would be proper to kneel before a monarch,” he said, sinking to his knees. James Colman followed his example.
A minute later a short, bandy-legged man wearing a white muslin tunic with a scarlet waistband and a turban wound around his head entered the room. Complete silence followed. Not one of the men prostrate on the floor moved a muscle.
The short man, whom Adoniram knew without a doubt was King Bagyidaw, glared at the two white men kneeling in front of him.
“Who are these men?” he demanded.
Adoniram decided it would be best to answer for himself. He bowed his head slightly and replied, “We are the religious teachers you have heard about, O great king.”
King Bagyidaw looked shocked. “You speak like a Burmese man. How can this be? What have you come for?”
The official who had the petition for the king lifted his head off the carpet and spoke quietly. “If it please you, your majesty, the men have a petition they would like to bring before you.”
“Then read it,” commanded the king, settling himself onto his golden throne.
The official slid the petition in front of his eyes and, still lying flat on the floor, began to read. “The American teachers present themselves to receive the favor of the excellent king, the sovereign of land and sea. Hearing that on account of the greatness of the royal power, the royal country was in a quiet and prosperous state….”
As the official read on, Adoniram watched the king’s face for any sign of what he might be thinking. At least the king seemed to be paying attention.
The official read on about how the missionaries had come from Rangoon to Ava to ask for royal permission to tell the Burmese people about their religion free from government harassment. When the official was finished, the king beckoned for the paper. Adoniram watched in amazement as the official crawled on his belly up to the throne and handed the petition to the king.
The king carefully reread the petition. “Do you have any examples of this religion?” he asked Adoniram.
Adoniram rummaged around in the pocket of his robe and pulled out one of his tracts, which he handed to the king. King Bagyidaw read the first line and dropped the leaflet. It fluttered slowly to the floor. A chill went through Adoniram; this was not a good sign.
The king glared at the two missionaries, and Adoniram did not know what to say next. Thankfully, the courtier who had been holding the six Bibles rose to a crawling position, and shuffling the books in front of him, he presented them to the king.
“Take them away,” said King Bagyidaw. “I have no use for foreign religious books in my realm.” With that he stood and walked out of the room.
Once the king was gone, everyone scrambled to his feet and hurried out. No one looked at Adoniram or James Colman, except the official with the petition. “You must leave now, quickly!” the official said, pushing the men through the golden door. “The king is not pleased with your petition. You must go.”
Chapter 14
A Growing Band of Believers
By the time Adoniram and James Colman returned to Rangoon on February 18, 1820, Adoniram was convinced of what he should do. He and Ann would leave Burma as soon as possible and set up a mission station somewhere else. He thought Chittagong might be a suitable location, especially since the lone missionary to the Burmese people living there had been murdered. The fledgling church the missionary had started there was now without a leader. Of course, Adoniram would be sad to leave Rangoon, but he knew it was the best thing to do for the sake of the three Burmese converts. Now that King Bagyidaw had turned his back on Christianity, anyone who had contact with the missionaries would be putting his life in jeopardy.
Several days after returning from Ava, Adoniram laid out his plan to the tiny group of Burmese Christians. He expected them to be relieved that they would no longer have to associate with foreigners during this period of the king’s displeasure, but the opposite was the case.
“Don’t leave us yet,” begged Maung Byaay.
“But it’s useless for me to stay,” Adoniram replied sadly, thinking about how he had taught Maung Byaay to read and write, and about how much Maung Byaay loved to study the Bible with Adoniram. “We cannot open the zayat. No Burmese person will want to inquire about Christianity now that people know that the king is displeased with us. It’s better for Ann and me to go and come back when circumstances change and you are no longer in danger because of your association with us.”
“No, no,” insisted Maung Byaay. “Stay with us until there are eight or ten Christians here. Then you can train one of us to be the leader and you can leave. We will not be worried then, because even if you left the country, the religion you preach would spread itself. Why, even the king could not stop it. But if you go now, what would happen if someone wants to join our religion? I could not baptize him. What would we do?”
Although Adoniram was very moved by the argument, he was not persuaded. After all, he had just been to Ava and had seen firsthand the king and the power he exerted over people. But he could not dismiss what Maung Byaay had said without promising to give the matter some consideration.
While Adoniram was considering what to do, the three Burmese Christians were acting. They talked to everyone they could think of about their faith, and on the following Sunday, each of them brought to church one man who was “willing to consider” the religion of the foreigners.
Although none of the men became converts, Adoniram was greatly encouraged by their presence. The men had dared to enter the mission house for a church service, and they had asked some searching questions during the service. Their presence had the desired effect. Adoniram and Ann decided it would be wrong of them to leave the struggling little church in Rangoon, even if their going meant that the local Christians would be safer from reprisals by government officials.
Yet the small group of Burmese Christians in Chittagong needed a leader, and so it was decided that James Colman and his wife should move there. In Chittagong they could help the struggling church and maintain a safe haven for the Judsons and the Burmese Christians to flee to if things turned really ugly in Rangoon.
By the end of March, Adoniram and Ann were once again the only missionaries in Rangoon. This time, though, they had three local converts for company. And these new Christians kept active. Soon two wealthy Burmese men had also become Christians and asked to be baptized. A third man, Maung Shway-gnong, was also very close to accepting the gospel. However, he hung back, afraid. Maung Shway-gnong was a well-respected Buddhist scholar, and his conversion would stun the religious leaders in Rangoon. There was little doubt in Adoniram’s mind that if Maung Shway-gnong were to become a Christian he would be put to death immediately.
The growing group of converts and interested people was all a surprise to Adoniram. Although Adoniram had arrived back from Ava convinced that his missionary work in Burma was over, now it was thriving. He couldn’t have been more pleased, except for one thing. Ann’s health was getting worse by the day. Adoniram knew that Ann needed to see a doctor, but there wasn’t one in Rangoon. The closest place with a good doctor was Calcutta, India. So Adoniram booked passage for himself and Ann on the first ship leaving Rangoon for Calcutta. He was reluctant to leave his missionary work, especially now that things were going so well, but Ann was too ill to travel alone.
Before he and Ann left, Adoniram baptized the two newest converts, Maung Shway-gnong, the Buddhist scholar, and Mah Men-lay, the first woman convert. The baptisms were held at dusk in a quiet pool just outside the mission house gates. As he baptized Maung Shway-gnong, Adoniram wondered whether he would see him alive again. He supposed the religious and government leaders would conspire to have Maung Shway-gnong killed lest other Burmese people follow his example.
On July 19, 1820, Adoniram and Ann Judson set sail from Rangoon. It was the first time Ann had been outside of Burma since arriving there seven years before. In that time, both she and Adoniram had worked hard, and now as they left, ten Burmese Christian converts lined the dock to bid them farewell. Adoniram did not know what lay ahead for these Christians, but he prayed that Maung Byaay had been right and that a church with ten members could not be destroyed by the most determined of kings.
In the Bay of Bengal, the winds were favorable, allowing the captain to shave several days off the normal one-month sailing time from Rangoon to Calcutta. Once in Calcutta, Adoniram wasted no time finding the best doctor in the city for Ann. Dr. Chalmers diagnosed Ann’s illness as liver disease and blamed the condition on the heat and poor diet they endured in Rangoon. He recommended Ann return to the United States for a rest, but she would not hear of it. She insisted her place was with her husband in Burma.
