An eager thirst for knowledge is commonly the attendant, and often the parent, of a restless, enterprising disposition. It was so in the case of Mrs. Judson. She loved learning, and a book could allure her from her favourite walks, and from the, gayest social circle. The desire for knowledge is often found in connexion with moderate intellectual faculties; and in such cases, with favourable opportunities, the individual may make a respectable proficiency in learning. But this desire is almost invariably an attribute of eminent mental powers; and the person thus happily endowed, needs nothing but industry and adequate means, to ensure the attainment of the highest degree of literary excellence.
Mrs. Judson’s mind was of a superior order. It was distinguished by strength, activity and clearness. She has, indeed, left no memorials, which can be produced, as fair specimens of her talents and literary acquirements. She wrote much, but her writings have perished, except letters and accounts of missionary proceedings, written without any design to exhibit her abilities, or display her learning. But no one can review her life, and read what she has written and published, without feeling that her mind possessed unusual vigour and cultivation.
She was educated at the Academy in Bradford, a seminary which has become hallowed by her memory, and by that of Mrs. Newell, the proto-martyr of the American Missions. Here she pursued her studies with much success. Her perceptions were rapid, her memory retentive, and her perseverance indefatigable. Here she laid the foundations of her knowledge, and here her intellect was stimulated, disciplined, and directed. Her preceptors and associates ever regarded her with respect and esteem ; and considered her ardent temperament, her decision and perseverance, and her strength of mind, as ominous of some uncommon destiny.
Her religious character, however, is of the most importance, in itself, and in connexion with her future life. The readers of this Memoir will feel the deepest concern, to trace the rise and progress of that spiritual renovation, and that divine teaching, which made her a disciple of the Saviour, and prepared her for her labours in his service.
Of this momentous change, the following account, written by herself, has happily been rescued from the fate which befel the greater part of her private journals ;—
“During the first sixteen years of ray life, I very seldom felt any serious impressions, which I think were produced by the Holy Spirit. I was early taught by my mother (though she was then ignorant of the nature of true religion) the importance of abstaining from those vices, to which children are liable—as telling falsehoods, disobeying my parents, taking what was not my own, &c. She also taught me, that if I were a good child, I should, at death, escape that dreadful hell, the thought of which sometimes filled me with alarm and terror. I, therefore, made it a matter of conscience to avoid the above-mentioned sins, to say my prayers night and morning, and to abstain from my usual play on the Sabbath, not doubting, but that such a course of conduct would ensure my salvation.
“At the age of twelve or thirteen, I attended the academy at Bradford, where I was exposed to many more temptations than before, and found it much more difficult to pursue my Pharisaical method. I now began to attend balls and parties of pleasure, and found my mind completely occupied with what I daily heard were “innocent amusements.” My conscience reproved me, not for engaging in these amusements, but for neglecting to say my prayers and read my Bible, on returning from them ; but I finally put a stop to its remonstrances, by thinking, that, as I was old enough to attend to balls, I was surely too old to say prayers. Thus were my fears quieted ; and for two or three years, I scarcely felt an anxious thought relative to the salvation of my soul, though I was rapidly verging towards eternal ruin. My disposition was gay in the extreme ; my situation was such as afforded me opportunities for indulging it to the utmost; I was surrounded with associates, wild and volatile like myself, and often thought myself one •of the happiest creatures on earth.
‘The first circumstance, which, in any measure, awakened me from this sleep of death, was the following. One Sabbath morning, having prepared myself to attend public worship, just as I was leaving my toilet, I accidentally took up Hannah More’s Strictures on Female Education ; and the first words that caught my eye were, She that liveth in pleasure, is dead while she liveth. They were written in italics, with marks of admiration ; and they struck me to the heart. I stood for a few moments, amazed at the incident, and half inclined to think, that some invisible agency had directed my eye to those words. At first, I thought I would live a different life, and be more serious and sedate ; but at last I thought, that the words were not so applicable to me, as I first imagined, and resolved to think no more of them.
“In the course of a few months (at the age of fifteen,) I met with Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. I read it as a Sabbath book, and was much interested in the story. I finished the book on a Sabbath, and it left this impression on my mind—that Christian, because he adhered to the narrow path, was carried safely through all his trials, and at last admitted into heaven. I resolved, from that moment, to begin a religious life ; and in order to keep my resolutions, I went to my chamber and prayed for divine assistance. When I had done, I felt pleased with myself, and thought I was in a fair way for heaven. But I was perplexed to know what it was to live a religious life, and again had recourse to my system of works. The first step, that appeared necessary for me to take, was, to refrain from attending parties of pleasure, and be reserved and serious in the presence of the other scholars. Accordingly, on Monday morning, I went to school, with a determination to keep my resolution, and confident that I should. I had not been long in school, before one of the young ladies, an intimate friend of mine, came with a very animated countenance, and told me, that Miss——in a neighbouring town, was to have a splendid party on new year’s day, and that she and I were included in the party selected. I coolly replied, that I should not go, though I did receive an invitation. She seemed surprised, and asked me what was the matter. I replied, that I should never again attend such a party. I continued of the same opinion during the day, and felt much pleased with such a good opportunity of trying myself. Monday evening, the daughters of——sent in to invite me and my sisters to spend the evening with them, and make a family visit. I hesitated a little, but considering that it was to be a family party merely, I thought I could go without breaking my resolutions. Accordingly I went, and found that two or three other families of young ladies had been invited. Dancing was soon introduced ; my religious plans were forgotten ; I joined with the rest—was one of the gayest of the gay—and thought no more of the new life I had just begun. On my return home, I found an invitation from Miss——in waiting, and accepted it at once. My conscience let me pass quietly through the amusements of that evening also ; but when I retired to my chamber, on my return, it accused me of breaking my most solemn resolutions. I thought I should never dare to make others, for I clearly saw, that I was unable to keep them.
“From December 1805 to April 1806, I scarcely spent a rational hour. My studies were slightly attended to, and my time was mostly occupied in preparing my dress, and in contriving amusements for the evening, which portion of my time was wholly spent in vanity and trifling. I so far surpassed my friends in gaiety and mirth, that some of them were apprehensive, that I had but a short time to continue in my career of folly, and should be suddenly cut off. Thus passed the last winter of my gay life.
“In the spring of 1806, there appeared a little attention to religion, in the upper parish of Bradford. Religious conferences had been appointed, during the winter, and I now began to attend them regularly. I often used to weep, when hearing the minister, and others, press the importance of improving the present favourable season, to obtain an interest in Christ, lest we should have to say. The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved. I thought I should be one of that number ; for though I now deeply felt the importance of being strictly religious, it appeared to me impossible I could be so, while in the midst of my gay associates. I generally sought some retired corner of the room, in which the meetings were held, lest others should observe the emotions I could not restrain ; but frequently after being much affected through the evening, I would return home, in company with some of my light companions, and assume an air of gaiety very foreign to my heart.