Mary Slessor of Calabar: Pioneer Missionary by W. P. Livingstone

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MARY SLESSOR

OF CALABAR

PIONEER MISSIONARY

BY

W. P. LIVINGSTONE

PREFATORY NOTE

_Life for most people is governed by authority and convention, but
behind these there lies always the mystery of human nature, uncertain
and elusive, and apt now and again to go off at a tangent and disturb
the smooth working of organised routine. Some man or woman will appear
who departs from the normal order of procedure, who follows ideals
rather than rules, and whose methods are irregular, and often, in the
eyes of onlookers, unwise. They may be poor or frail, and in their own
estimation of no account, yet it is often they who are used for the
accomplishment--of important ends. Such a one was Mary Slessor._

_Towards the end of her days she was urged to write her autobiography,
but was surprised at the proposal, and asked what she had done to merit
the distinction of being put in a book. She was so humble-minded that
she could not discern any special virtue in her life of self-sacrifice
and heroism; and she disliked publicity and was shamed by praise. When
the matter was pressed upon her in view of the inspiration which a
narrative of her experiences and adventures would be for others, she
began to consider whether it might not be a duty, she never shrank from
any duty however unpleasant. Her belief was that argument and theory
had no effect in arousing interest in missionary enterprise; that the
only means of setting the heart on fire the magnetism of personal touch
and example; and she indicated that if account of her service would
help to stimulate and strengthen the faith of the supporters of the
work, she would be prepared to supply the material. She died before the
intention could be carried further, but from many sources, and chiefly
from her own letters, it has been possible to piece together the main
facts of her wonderful career._

_One, however, has no hope of giving an adequate picture of her complex
nature, so full of contrasts and opposites. She was a woman of affairs,
with a wide and catholic outlook upon humanity, and yet she was a shy
solitary walking alone in puritan simplicity and childlike faith. Few
ham possessed such moral and physical courage, or exercised such
imperious power over savage peoples, yet on trivial occasions she was
abjectly timid and afraid, A sufferer from chronic malarial affection,
and a martyr to pains her days were filled in with unremitting toil.
Overflowing with love and tender feeling, she could be stern and
exacting. Shrewd, practical, and matter of fact, she believed that
sentiment was a gift of God, and frankly indulged in it. Living always
in the midst of dense spiritual darkness, and often depressed and
worried, she maintained unimpaired a sense of humour and laughter.
Strong and tenacious of will, she admitted the right of others to
oppose her. These are but illustrations of the perpetual play of light
and shade in her character which made her difficult to understand. Many
could not see her greatness for what they called her eccentricities,
forgetting, or perhaps being unaware of, what she had passed through,
experiences such as no other woman had undergone, which explained much
that seemed unusual in her conduct. But when her life is viewed as a
whole, and in the light of what she achieved, all these angles and
oddities fall away, and she stands out, a woman of unique and inspiring
personality, and one of the most heroic figures of the age._

_Some have said that she was in a sense a miracle, and not, therefore,
for ordinary people to emulate. Such an estimate she would have stoutly
repudiated. It is true that she began life with the gift of a strong
character, but many possess that and yet come to nothing. She had, on
the other hand, disadvantages and obstacles that few have to encounter.
It was by surrender, dedication, and unwearied devotion that she grew
into her power of attainment, and all can adventure on the same path.
It was love for Christ that made her what she was, and there is no
limit set in that direction. Such opportunity as she had, lies before
the lowliest disciples; even out of the commonplace Love can carve
heroines. "There is nothing small or trivial," she once said, "for God
is ready to take every act and motive and work through them to the
formation of character and the development of holy and useful lives
that will convey grace to the world." It was so in her case, and hence
the value of her example, and the warrant for telling the story of her
life so that others may be influenced to follow aims as noble, and to
strive, if not always in the same manner, at least with a like courage,
and in the same patient and indomitable spirit.

W.P.L._

CONTENTS

FIRST PHASE

A SCOTTISH FACTORY GIRL

CHAPTER I. SAVED BY FEAR
CHAPTER II. IN THE WEAVING-SHED
CHAPTER III. MISERY
CHAPTER IV. TAMING THE ROUGHS
CHAPTER V. SELF-CULTURE
CHAPTER VI. A TRAGIC LAND
CHAPTER VII. THE THREE MARYS

SECOND PHASE

WORK AND ADVENTURE AT THE BASE

CHAPTER I. THE BREATH OF THE TROPICS
CHAPTER II. FIRST IMPRESSIONS
CHAPTER III. IN THE UNDERWORLD
CHAPTER IV. THE PULL OF HOME
CHAPTER V. AT THE SEAT OF SATAN
CHAPTER VI. IN ELEPHANT COUNTRY
CHAPTER VII. WITH BACK TO THE WALL
CHAPTER VIII. BEREFT
CHAPTER IX. THE SORROWS OF CREEK TOWN
CHAPTER X. THE FULNESS OF THE TIME

THIRD PHASE

THE CONQUEST OF OKOYONG

CHAPTER I. A TRIBE OF TERRORISTS
CHAPTER II. IN THE ROYAL CANOE
CHAPTER III. THE ADVENTURE OF TAKING POSSESSION
CHAPTER IV. FACING AN ANGBY MOB
CHAPTER V. LIFE IN THE HAREM
CHAPTER VI. STRANGE DOINGS
CHAPTER VII. FIGHTING A GRIM FOE
CHAPTER VIII. THE POWER OF WITCHCRAFT
CHAPTER IX. SORCERY IN THE PATH
CHAPTER X. HOW HOUSE AND HALL WERE BUILT
CHAPTER XI. A PALAVER AT THE PALACE
CHAPTER XII. THE SCOTTISH CARPENTER
CHAPTER XIII. HER GREATEST BATTLE AND VICTORY
CHAPTER XIV. THE AFTERMATH
CHAPTER XV. THE SWEET AND THE STRONG
CHAPTER XVI. WAR IN THE GATES
CHAPTER XVII. AMONG THE CHURCHES
CHAPTER XVIII. LOVE OF LOVER
CHAPTER XIX. A LETTER AND ITS RESULT
CHAPTER XX. THE BLOOD COVENANT
CHAPTER XXI. "RUN, MA! RUN!"
CHAPTER XXII. A GOVERNMENT AGENT
CHAPTER XXIII. "ECCENTRICITIES," SPADE-WORK, AND DAY-DREAMS
CHAPTER XXIV. MAIDEN-MOTHER AND ANGEL-CHILD
CHAPTER XXV. MARY KINGSLEY'S VISIT
CHAPTER XXVI. AN ALL-NIGHT JOURNEY
CHAPTER XXVII. AKOM: A FIRST-FRUIT
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE BOX FROM HOME
CHAPTER XXIX. AN APPEAL TO THE CONSUL
CHAPTER XXX. AFTER SEVEN YEARS
CHAPTER XXXI. THE PASSING OF THE CHIEFS
CHAPTER XXXII. CLOTHED BY FAITH
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE SHY SPEAKER
CHAPTER XXXIV. ISOLATION
1. A MOTHER IN ISRAEL
2. THE CARES OF A HOUSEHOLD
CHAPTER XXXV. EXILED TO CREEK TOWN
CHAPTER XXXVI. PICTURES AND IMPRESSIONS
CHAPTER XXXVII. A NIGHT IN THE BUSH
CHAPTER XXXVIII. WITH LOVING-KINDNESS CROWNED

FOURTH PHASE

THE ROMANCE OF THE ENYONG CREEK

CHAPTER I. THE REIGN OF THE LONG JUJU
CHAPTER II. PLANTING A BASE
CHAPTER III. ON TO AROCHUKU
CHAPTER IV. A SLAVE-GIRL'S TRIUMPH
CHAPTER V. A BUSH FURLOUGH
CHAPTER VI. BEGINNINGS
CHAPTER VII. MOVING INLAND
CHAPTER VIII. THE PROBLEM OF THE WOMEN
CHAPTER IX. A CHRISTMAS PARTY
CHAPTER X. MUTINOUS
CHAPTER XI. ON THE BENCH
CHAPTER XII. A VISITOR'S NOTES
CHAPTER XIII. A REST-HOME
CHAPTER XIV. SCOTLAND: THE LAST FAREWELL
CHAPTER XV. GROWING WEATHER
CHAPTER XVI. "THE PITY OF IT"
CHAPTER XVII. THE SETTLEMENT BEGUN
CHAPTER XVIII. A SCOTTISH GUEST
CHAPTER XIX. A MOTOR CAR ROMANCE
CHAPTER XX. STRUCK DOWN

FIFTH PHASE

ONWARD STILL

CHAPTER I. IN HEATHEN DEEPS
CHAPTER II. "REAL LIFE"
CHAPTER III. THE AUTOCRATIC DOCTOR
CHAPTER IV. GOD'S WONDERFUL PALAVER
CHAPTER V. WEAK BUT STRONG
CHAPTER VI. HER FIRST HOLIDAY
CHAPTER VII. INJURED
CHAPTER VIII. FRIENDSHIPS WITH OFFICIALS
CHAPTER IX. POWER THBOUGH PRAYER
CHAPTER X. BIBLE STUDENT
CHAPTER XI. BACK TO THE OLD HAUNTS
CHAPTER XII. ROYAL RECOGNITION
CHAPTER XIII. BATTLE FOR A LIFE
CHAPTER XIV. A VISION OF THE NIGHT
CHAPTER XV. STORMING THE CITADELS
CHAPTER XVI. CLARION CALLS
CHAPTER XVII. LOVE-LETTERS
CHAPTER XVIII. A LONELY FIGURE
CHAPTER XIX. WHEN THE GREAT WAR CAME
CHAPTER XX. THE TIME OF THE SINGING OF BIRDS
CHAPTER XXI. TRIBUTE AND TREASURE
CHAPTER XXII. SEEN AND UNSEEN
CHAPTER XXIII. THE ALABASTER BOX

ILLUSTRATIONS

Mary M. Slessor
Calabar Mission Field in 1876
Miss Slessor and some of the People of Ekenge
Calabar Chief of the Present Day
Calabar Sword
King Eyo's State Canoe
The First Church in Okoyong--at Ifako
Miss Slessor's Mission House at Ekenge
"Ma's" Quarters at Akpap
The Tragedy of Twins
The Okoyong Household in Scotland
Native Court in Okoyong
Calabar Mission Map of the Present Day
A Glimpse of the Enyong Creek
Itu, showing the Beach where the Slave-market was held
Court House at Ikotobong
"Ma," with the Material for the Native Oath at her Feet
Administering the Native Oath to a Witness
The Government Motor Car
Miss Slessor's Heathen Friend, Ma Eme
One of Miss Slessor's Bibles
Miss Slessor's Silver Cross
The House on the Hill-top at Odoro Ikpe
The Last Photograph of the Household

FIRST PHASE

1848-1876. Age 1-28.

A SCOTTISH FACTORY GIRL

_"It was the dream of my girlhood to be a missionary
to Calabar_."

I. SAVED BY FEAR

When the founding of the Calabar Mission on the West Coast of Africa
was creating a stir throughout Scotland, there came into a lowly home
in Aberdeen a life that was to be known far and wide in connection with
the enterprise. On December 2, 1848, Mary Mitchell Slessor was born in
Gilcomston, a suburb of the city.

Her father, Robert Slessor, belonged to Buchan, and was a shoemaker.
Her mother, who came from Old Meldrum, was an only child, and had been
brought up in a home of refinement and piety. She is described by those
who knew her as a sweet-faced woman, patient, gentle, and retiring,
with a deeply religious disposition, but without any special feature of
character, such as one would have expected to find in the mother of so
uncommon a daughter. It was from her, however, that Mary got her soft
voice and loving heart.

Mary was the second of seven children. Of her infancy and girlhood
little is known. Her own earliest recollections were associated with
the name of Calabar. Mrs. Slessor was a member of Belmont Street United
Presbyterian Church, and was deeply interested in the adventure going
forward in that foreign field. "I had," said Mary, "my missionary
enthusiasm for Calabar in particular from her--she knew from its
inception all that was to be known of its history." Both she and her
elder brother Robert heard much talk of it in the home, and the latter
used to announce that he was going to be a missionary when he was a
man. So great a career was, of course, out of the reach of girls, but
he consoled Mary by promising to take her with him into the pulpit.
Often Mary played at keeping school; and it is interesting to note that
the imaginary scholars she taught and admonished were always black.
Robert did not survive these years, and Mary became the eldest.

Dark days came. Mr. Slessor unhappily drifted into habits of
intemperance and lost his situation, and when he suggested removing to
Dundee, then coming to the front as an industrial town and promising
opportunities for the employment of young people, his wife consented,
although it was hard for her to part from old friends and associations.
But she hoped that in a strange city, where the past was unknown, her
husband might begin life afresh and succeed. The family went south in
1859, and entered on a period of struggle and hardship. The money
realised by the sale of the furniture melted away, and the new house
was bare and comfortless, Mr. Slessor continued his occupation as a
shoemaker, and then became a labourer in one of the mills.

The youngest child, Janie, was born in Dundee. All the family were
delicate, and it was not long before Mary was left with only two
sisters and a brother--Susan, John, and Janie. Mrs. Slessor's fragility
prevented her battling successfully with trial and misfortune, but no
children could have been trained with more scrupulous care. "I owe a
great debt of gratitude to my sainted mother," said Mary, long
afterwards. Especially was she solicitous for their religious well-
being. On coming to Dundee she had connected herself with Wishart
Church in the east end of the Cowgate, a modest building, above a
series of shops near the Port Gate from the parapets of which George
Wishart preached during the plague of 1544. Here the children were sent
to the regular services--with a drop of perfume on their handkerchiefs
and gloves and a peppermint in their pockets for sermon-time--and also
attended the Sunday School.

Mary's own recollection of herself at this period was that she was "a
wild lassie." She would often go back in thought to these days, and
incidents would flash into memory that half amused and half shamed her.
Some of her escapades she would describe with whimsical zest, and
trivial as they were they served to show that, even then, her native
wit and resource were always ready to hand. But very early the Change
came. An old widow, living in a room in the back lands, used to watch
the children running about the doors, and in her anxiety for their
welfare sought to gather some of the girls together and talk to them,
young as they were, about the matters that concerned their souls. One
afternoon in winter they had come out of the cold and darkness into the
glow of her fire, and were sitting listening to her description of the
dangers that beset all who neglected salvation.

"Do ye see that fire?" she exclaimed suddenly. "If ye were to put your
hand into the lowes it would be gey sair. It would burn ye. But if ye
dinna repent and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ your soul will burn
in the lowin' bleezin' fire for ever and ever!"

The words went like arrows to Mary's heart; she could not get the
vision of eternal torment out of her mind: it banished sleep, and she
came to the conclusion that it would be best for her to make her peace
with God. She "repented and believed." It was hell-fire that drove her
into the Kingdom, she would sometimes say. But once there she found it
to be a Kingdom of love and tenderness and mercy, and never throughout
her career did she seek to bring any one into it, as she had come, by
the process of shock and fear.

II. IN THE WEAVING-SHED

The time came when Mrs. Slessor herself was compelled to enter one of
the factories in order to maintain the home, and many of the cares and
worries of a household fell upon Mary. But at eleven she, too, was sent
out to begin to earn a livelihood. In the textile works of Messrs.
Baxter Brothers & Company she became what was known as a half-timer,
one who wrought half the day and went to the school in connection with
the works the other half. When she was put on full time she attended
the school held at night. Shortly afterward she entered Rashiewell
factory to learn weaving under the supervision of her mother. After
trying the conditions in two other works she returned, about the age of
fourteen, to Baxter's, where she soon became an expert and well-paid
worker. Her designation was a "weaver" or "factory girl," not a "mill-
girl," this term locally being restricted to spinners in the mills.
When she handed her first earnings to her mother the latter wept over
them, and put them away as too sacred to use. But her wage was
indispensable for the support of the home, and eventually she became
its chief mainstay.

Life in the great factory in which she was but a unit amongst thousands
was hard and monotonous. The hours of the workers were from six A.M. to
six P.M., with one hour for breakfast and one for dinner. Mary was
stationed in a room or shed, which has very much the same appearance
to-day. Now as then the belts are whirring, the looms are moving, the
girls are handling the shuttles, and the air is filled with a din so
continuous and intense that speech is well-nigh impossible. Mary had to
be up every morning at five o'clock, as she helped in the work of the
home before going out, while similar duties claimed her at night.
Though naturally bright and refined in disposition she was at this time
almost wholly uneducated. From the factory schools she had brought only
a meagre knowledge of reading and arithmetic, and she had read little
save the books obtained from the library of the Sunday School. But her
mind was opening, she was becoming conscious of the outer world and all
its interests and wonders, and she was eager to know and understand. In
order to study she began to steal time from sleep. She carried a book
with her to the mill, and, like David Livingstone at Blantyre, laid it
on the loom and glanced at it in her free moments. So anxious was she
to learn that she read on her way to and from the factory. It was not a
royal road, that thoroughfare of grim streets, but it led her into many
a shining region.

Her only source of outside interest was the Church. From the Sunday
School she passed into the Bible Class, where her attendance was never
perfunctory, for she enjoyed the teaching and extracted all she could
out of it. She would carry home the statements that arrested and
puzzled her, and refer them to her mother, who, however, did not always
find it easy to satisfy her. "Is baptism necessary for salvation,
mother?" was one of her questions. "Well," her mother replied, "it says
that he that repents and is baptized shall be saved; but it does not
say that he that repents and is not baptized shall be damned." Some of
her mother's sayings at this time she never forgot. "When one duty
jostles another, one is not a duty," she was once told. And again,
"Thank God for what you receive: thank God for what you do not receive:
thank God for the sins you are delivered from; and thank God for the
sins that you know nothing at all about, and are never tempted to
commit."

Mary was a favourite with her classmates. There was something about her
even then which drew others to her. One, the daughter of an elder,
tells how, though much younger, she was attracted to her by her
goodness and her kind ways, and how she would often go early to meet
her in order to enjoy her company to the class.

III. MISERY

The explanation of much in Mary Slessor's character lies in these early
years, and she cannot be fully understood unless the unhappy
circumstances in her home are taken into account. She was usually
reticent regarding her father, but once she wrote and published under
her own name what is known to be the story of this painful period of
her girlhood. There is no need to reproduce it, but some reference to
the facts is necessary if only to show how bravely she battled against
hardship and difficulties even then.

The weakness of Mr. Slessor was not cured by the change in his
surroundings. All the endearments of his wife and daughter were
powerless to save the man whose heart was tender enough when he was
sober, but whose moral sensibilities continued to be sapped by his
indulgence in drink. Every penny he could lay hands upon was spent in
this way, and the mother was often reduced to sore straits to feed and
clothe the children. Not infrequently Mary had to perform a duty
repugnant to her sensitive nature. She would leave the factory after
her long toil, and run home, pick up a parcel which her mother had
prepared, and fly like a hunted thing along the shadiest and quietest
streets, making many a turning in order to avoid her friends, to the
nearest pawnbroker's. Then with sufficient money for the week's
requirements she would hurry back with a thankful heart, and answer the
mother's anxious, questioning eyes with a glad light in her own. A kiss
would be her reward, and she would be sent out to pay the more pressing
bills.

There was one night of terror in every week. On Saturday, after the
other children were in bed, the mother and daughter sat sewing or
knitting in silence through long hours, waiting in sickening
apprehension for the sound of uncertain footsteps on the stairs. Now
and again they prayed to quieten their hearts. Yet they longed for his
coming. When he appeared he would throw into the fire the supper they
had stinted themselves to provide for him. Sometimes Mary was forced
out into the streets where she wandered in the dark, alone, sobbing out
her misery.

All the efforts of wife and daughter were directed towards hiding the
skeleton in the house. The fear of exposure before the neighbours, the
dread lest Mary's church friends should come to know the secret, made
the two sad souls pinch and struggle and suffer with endless patience.
None of the other children was aware of the long vigils that were
spent. The fact that the family was never disgraced in public was
attributed to prayer. The mother prayed, the daughter prayed,
ceaselessly, with utter simplicity of belief, and they were never once
left stranded or put to shame. Their faith not only saved them from
despair, it made them happy in the intervals of their distress. Few
brighter or more hopeful families gathered in church from Sunday to
Sunday.

Nevertheless these days left their mark upon Mary for life. She was at
the plastic age, she was gentle and sensitive and loving, and what she
passed through hurt and saddened her spirit. To the end it was the only
memory that had power to send a shaft of bitterness across the
sweetness of her nature. It added to her shyness and to her reluctance
to appear in public and speak, which was afterwards so much commented
upon, for always at the back of her mind was the consciousness of that
dark and wretched time. The reaction on her character, however, was not
all evil; suffering in the innocent has its compensations. It deepened
her sympathy and pity for others. It made her the fierce champion of
little children, and the refuge of the weak and oppressed. It prepared
her also for the task of combating the trade in spirits on the West
Coast, and for dealing with the drunken tribes amongst whom she came to
dwell. Her experience then was, indeed, the beginning of her training
for the work she had to accomplish in the future....

The father died, and the strain was removed, and Mary became the chief
support of the home. Those who knew her then state that her life was
one long act of self-denial; all her own inclinations and interests
were surrendered for the sake of the family, and she was content with
bare necessaries so long as they were provided for.

IV. TAMING THE ROUGHS

In her church work she continued to find the little distraction from
toil which gave life its savour. She began to attend the Sabbath
Morning Fellowship and week-night prayer meetings. She also taught a
class of "lovable lassies" in the Sabbath School--"I had the impudence
of ignorance then in special degree surely" was her mature comment on
this--and became a distributor of the _Monthly Visitor_. Despite the
weary hours in the factory, and a long walk to and from the church, she
was never absent from any of the services or meetings. "We would as
soon have thought of going to the moon as of being absent from a
service," she wrote shortly before she died. "And we throve very well
on it too. How often, when lying awake at night, my time for thinking,
do I go back to those wonderful days!"

She owed much to her association with the Church, but more to her
Bible. Once a girl asked her for something to read, and she handed her
the Book saying, "Take that; it has made me a changed lassie." The
study of it was less a duty than a joy; it was like reading a message
addressed specially to herself, containing news of surpassing personal
interest and import. God was very real to her. To think that behind all
the strain and struggle and show of the world there was a Personality,
not a thought or a dream, not something she could not tell what, in
spaces she knew not where, but One who was actual and close to her,
overflowing with love and compassion, and ready to listen to her, and
to heal and guide and strengthen her--it was marvellous. She wished to
know all He had to tell her, in order that she might rule her conduct
according to His will. Most of all it was the story of Christ that she
pored over and thought about. His Divine majesty, the beauty and grace
of His life, the pathos of His death on the Cross, affected her
inexpressibly. But it was His love, so strong, so tender, so pitiful,
that won her heart and devotion and filled her with a happiness and
peace that suffused her inner life like sunshine. In return she loved
Him with a love so intense that it was often a pain. She felt that she
could not do enough for one who had done so much for her. As the years
passed she surrendered herself more and more to His influence, and was
ready for any duty she was called upon to do for Him, no matter how
humble or exacting it might be. It was this passion of love and
gratitude, this abandonment of self, this longing for service, that
carried her into her life-work.

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