My dear young wife, Mary Ann Robson, and I were landed on Tanna on the 5th November, 1858, in excellent health and full of all tender and holy hopes. On the 12th February, 1859, she was confined of a son; for two days or so both mother and child seemed to prosper, and our island-exile thrilled with joy! But the greatest of sorrows was treading hard upon the heels of that joy! My darling’s strength showed no signs of rallying. She had an attack of ague and fever, a few days before her confinement; on the third day or so thereafter, it returned, and attacked her every second day with increasing severity for a fortnight. Diarrhœa ensued, and symptoms of pneumonia, with slight delirium at intervals; and then in a moment, altogether unexpectedly, she died on the 3rd March. To crown my sorrows, and complete my loneliness, the dear babyboy, whom we had named after her father, Peter Robert Robson, was taken from me after one week’s sickness, on the 20th March. Let those who have ever passed through any similar darkness as of midnight feel for me; as for all others, it would be more than vain to try to paint my sorrows!
I knew then, when too late, that our work had been entered on too near the beginning of the Rainy Season. We were both, however, healthy and hearty; and I daily pushed on with the house, making things hourly more comfortable, in the hope that long lives were before us both, to be spent for Jesus in seeking the salvation of the perishing Heathen. Oh, the vain yet bitter regrets, that my dear wife had not been left on Aneityum till after the unhealthy Rainy Season! But no one advised this course; and she, high-spirited, full of buoyant hope, and afraid of being left behind me, or of me being left without her on Tanna, refused to allow the thing to be suggested. In our mutual inexperience, and with our hearts aglow for the work of our lives, we incurred this risk which should never have been incurred; and I only refer to the matter thus, in the hope that others may take warning.
Stunned by that dreadful loss, in entering upon this field of labour to which the Lord had Himself so evidently led me, my reason seemed for a time almost to give way. Ague and fever, too, laid a depressing and weakening hand upon me, continuously recurring, and reaching oftentimes the very height of its worst burning stages. But I was never altogether forsaken. The ever-merciful Lord sustained me, to lay the precious dust of my beloved Ones in the same quiet grave, dug for them close by at the end of the house; in all of which last offices my own hands, despite breaking heart, had to take the principal share! I built the grave round and round with coral blocks, and covered the top with beautiful white coral, broken small as gravel; and that spot became my sacred and much-frequented shrine, during all the following months and years when I laboured on for the salvation of these savage Islanders amidst difficulties, dangers, and deaths. Whensoever Tanna turns to the Lord, and is won for Christ, men in after-days will find the memory of that spot still green,—where with ceaseless prayers and tears I claimed that land for God in which I had “buried my dead” with faith and hope. But for Jesus, and the fellowship He vouchsafed me there, I must have gone mad and died beside that lonely grave.
The organ of the Church to which we belonged, The Reformed Presbyterian Magazine, published the following words of condolence:—“In regard to the death of Mrs. Paton, one feeling of grief and regret will fill the hearts of all who knew her. To add a sentence to the singularly just and graceful tribute Mr. Inglis pays to the memory of the deceased, would only mar its pathos and effect. Such language, from one accustomed to weigh carefully every word he pens, bespeaks at once the rare excellences of her that is gone, as well as the heavy loss our Mission and our Church have sustained in her death. Her parents, who gave her by a double baptism to the Lord, have this consolation, that her death may exert a more elevating and sanctifying influence for good, than the longest life of many ordinary Christians. Deep sympathy with Mr. Paton will pervade the Church, in the sore trial with which he has been visited.”
Dr. Inglis, my brother Missionary on Aneityum, wrote to the same Magazine:—“I trust all those who shed tears of sorrow on account of her early death will be enabled in the exercise of faith and resignation to say, ‘The Will of the Lord be done; the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord!’ I need not say how deeply we sympathise with her bereaved parents, as well as with her sorrowing husband. By her death the Mission has sustained a heavy loss. We were greatly pleased with Mrs. Paton, during the period of our short intercourse with her. Her mind, naturally vigorous, had been cultivated by a superior education. She was full of Missionary spirit, and took a deep interest in the native women. This was seen further, when she went to Tanna, where, in less than three months, she had collected a class of eight females, who came regularly to her to receive instruction. There was about her a maturity of thought, a solidity of character, a loftiness of aim and purpose rarely found in one so young. Trained up in the fear of the Lord from childhood, like another Mary she had evidently chosen that good part, which is never taken away from those possessed of it. When she left this island, she had to all human appearance a long career of usefulness and happiness on Earth before her, but the Lord has appointed otherwise. She has gone, as we trust, to her rest and her reward. The Lord has said to her, as He said to David, ‘Thou didst well in that it was in thine heart to build a House for My Name.’ Let us watch and pray, for our Lord cometh as a thief in the night.”
The Mission Synod at Tanna, on April 27th, 1859, passed the following resolution:—“That this meeting deeply and sincerely sympathises with Mr. Paton in the heavy and trying bereavement with which the Lord has seen meet to visit him in the death of his beloved wife and child; and the Missionaries record their sense of the loss this Mission has sustained, in the early, sudden, and unexpected death of Mrs. Paton. Her earnest Christian character, her devoted Missionary spirit, her excellent education, her kind and obliging disposition, and the influence she was fast acquiring over the Natives excited expectations of great future usefulness. That they express their heart-felt sympathy with the parents and other relatives of the deceased; that they recommend Mr. Paton to pay a visit to Aneityum for the benefit of his health; that they commend him to the tender mercies of Him who was sent to comfort all who mourn; and that they regard this striking dispensation of God’s providence as a loud call to themselves, to be more in earnest in attending to the state of their own souls, and more diligent in pressing the concerns of Eternity on the minds of others.”
Soon after her death, the good Bishop Selwyn called at Port Resolution, Tanna, in his Mission ship. He came on shore to visit me, accompanied by the Rev. J. C. Patteson. They had met Mrs. Paton on Aneityum in the previous year soon after our arrival, and, as she was then the picture of perfect health, they also felt her loss very keenly. Standing with me beside the grave of mother and child, I weeping aloud on his one hand, and Patteson—afterwards the Martyr Bishop of Nakupu—sobbing silently on the other, the godly Bishop Selwyn poured out his heart to God amidst sobs and tears, during which he laid his hands on my head, and invoked Heaven’s richest consolations and blessings on me and my trying labours. The virtue of that kind of Episcopal consecration I did and do most warmly appreciate! They urged me by many appeals to take a trip with them round the Islands, as my life was daily in great danger from the savages; they generously offered to convey me direct to Aneityum, or wherever I wished to go, as I greatly needed rest and change. But, with a heart full of gratitude to them, I yet resolved to remain, feeling that I was at the post of duty where God had placed me; and besides, fearing that if I left once the natives would not let me land again on returning to their island, I determined to hold on as long as possible, though feeling very weak and suffering badly from ague.
Sorrow and love make me linger a little to quote these extracts, printed in the Reformed Presbyterian Magazine for January, 1860, from Mrs. Paton’s last letter to her friends at home. It is dated from Port Resolution, Tanna, 28th December, 1858.
“My dear Father, Mother, and Sisters,—
“When I wrote last, we were just about to leave Aneityum for Tanna, the sphere of our future labours. One can have no idea of the dark and degraded state of these poor Heathen, unless really living amongst them. Still we trust that the cloud which has so long enveloped Tanna will soon be rolled away, and the light of the Sun of Righteousness irradiate this dark land. We have been here about two months, and so far the people among whom we live appear to be friendly. A numerous priesthood reside in the neighbourhood of the Volcano, from whom we anticipate much opposition, as they know that wherever the Missionary gains a footing among the people, their influence is lost. The Tannese are very avaricious. If one renders the least assistance, he demands a most exorbitant pay; indeed, we can hardly satisfy them. We have a number of male, but very few female visitors, the latter being just slaves to do all the work. The men disfigure their faces with red and black paint, and always carry spears and clubs. At first I was quite shocked with their appearance, but one soon becomes accustomed to such sights. They likewise possess powder and muskets,—guns and tobacco being the chief objects of their ambition. Indeed, such is their degraded condition that, were not the power and grace of God all-sufficient, one might almost despair of ever making any impression on them. All the Natives are in a state of entire nudity, with this exception, that females wear short petticoats made of grass. Young girls are very fond of beads, and sometimes have their necks quite covered with them. They likewise bore holes in the ear, from which they suspend large rolls (circles) of tortoise shell. Two or three little girls come about me, whom I am teaching to sew and sing; but no great good can be accomplished till we master their language. We have picked up a good many words, and I trust, with the blessing of God, will soon be able to speak to them of things pertaining to their everlasting peace.