Mary Coombs Greenleaf

Her father was addicted to evil habits, which, notwithstanding the constant assistance of near relatives, and the occasional aid of friends, entailed upon her a life of exertion and self-denial. ~ From the Life and Letters of Mary C. Greenleaf

Woodcut of Newburyport, MA

Early life

Our cousin Mary Coombs Greenleaf (6C5X) was born in Newburyport, MA in 1800. Her father was Ebinezer Greenleaf (5C6X) and her mother was Jane Coombs. We learn a little about her early life in the book Life and Letters of Mary C. Greenleaf, written by Mary herself for the Massachusetts Sabbath School Society.

Mary's childhood held its share of grief, beginning with the difference in her mother's reaction to the birth of her two children:

At the birth of her son William (6C5X), her heart overflowed with deep, indelible emotions of gratitude and happiness — but when another life was entrusted to her keeping, she was, for a time, in heaviness of soul.

In 1801, Mary's mother Jane was "prostrated by severe illness, which continued for six months, and brought her apparently near to death."

Then there were problems with the father that are never explicity laid out:

Her father was addicted to evil habits, which, notwithstanding the constant assistance of near relatives, and the occasional aid of friends, entailed upon her a life of exertion and self-denial. . .The household grief was borne and buried in entire silence. What unspeakable sorrow and sadness it caused, we can never know. Only glimpses of it were revealed to near friends in the quiet subdued air which sometimes told of recent trial.

In spite of these problems, Mary describes herself as a happy child:

Usually she was cheerful, active, versatile. She had a great fund of innocent mirth. Her laughter gushed out so freely, so appealingly, that there was no resisting it. It was refreshing to hear her.

When she was 13, school was over for Mary. She "commenced that routine of home duties and labors" that lasted until her mother's death in 1851. She lived at home with her parents for all but seven years of her life. Her mother had turned to religion early in her life and, at 19, Mary endeavored to followed suit.

Early in the summer of 1819 her mind became more than usually impressed with the subject of religion. Her convictions were deep, but as she says, "awfully resisted." "For more than nineteen years have I slighted the offers of a Saviour, the calls, the warnings of God's Word, Gospel, providence, the strivings of his Spirit, and the voice of conscience, and have so hardened my heart that now I seem almost past feeling. How I grieve my dear mother, who longs so for my salvation, and who watches every favorable symptom. Oh, shall I disappoint her fond hopes? Lord, forbid it. Left to myself I certainly shall."

Mary's journal entries for the next six months are consumed with the trials of her religious journey. Finally, in December of 1819, "she was received a member of the first Presbyterian church. . ."

No sooner did Miss Greenleaf feel her soul quickened into a new, diviner life, than she entered at once into the duties and enjoyments of that life. She began earnestly to desire and seek the salvation of others. She united with three young ladies, all members of the same church, in a weekly prayer-meeting. They agreed to select certain individuals in the number of their acquaintance, and pray for their conversion. . .and not to cease pleading for them until they had reason to hope that their prayers were answered.

Mary, along with others, formed a charitable sewing circle and she became a teacher in the Sabbath school. But it was at home, as her mother's helpmeet, where most of her duties lay:

Upon her daughter necessarily devolved the household labor, and a part of the pecuniary support of the family. In Mary's domestic arrangements, the most perfect order and propriety reigned. Every thing seemed done in the right time and manner, yet none could tell when or how. Her mother's increasing deafness rendered her presence in the parlor desirable. She was usually at hand; ever ready to supply facts, and correct slight mistakes occasioned by Mrs. G's imperfect hearing.

Mary's interest in the plight of the Native Americans began early. In a letter to a friend from March of 1830 she wrote "Don't forget the Indians at this interesting period. I hope they will not be driven from their lands." This letter foreshadowed the work she would do late in life after the death of her mother.

Also, in 1830, Mary became a teacher in a school and aso began collectiing money for the Missionary Association. These duties were added to those she had already had at home.

My school has occupied a large portion of my time, and various domestic duties, which I must perform, hurry me all the time

the deaths of Mary's parents

In 1832, the illness of both her parents made life even more difficult for her:

During the winter and spring, my father was sick all the time, and has not now recovered his health. My school has been much fuller than usual. I have had but one assistant; and ma' has been very feeble, so that I have had my hands filled to overflowing.

In 1833 the health of her father continued to decline, and during the following Spring he was visibly sinking. The morning of his death, while her hands were busily occupied with domestic duties, she found the tears raining over her face. She was in anguish of spirit, pleading for the soul of her father. He had breakfasted as usual, and she had assisted him to his room, and left him to repose. When she returned at the close of fifteen minutes, he was dead! It was a severe shock.

In 1839, Mary moved with her mother to her maternal grandfather's house. While living there, many of her journal entries include taking care of sick relative over the years. Finally, in 1851, her mother died.

As I looked upon her countenance, so placid in death, I felt that I must utter some of my emotions. I fell on my knees, and attempted to give thanks that her warfare was accomplished, — and that she had been so gently released. That mother's face was furrowed with the wrinkles of age, and many emotions; but after death, as is sometimes the case, the wrinkles vanished, and the cheek resumed the rounded smoothness of earlier years.

After their mother's death, Mary's brother, who lived in Springfield, Illinois had written, urging her to come and live with him. Sadly, ony two months later, William (6C5X) died of cholera. Mary wrote to her sister-in-law words of comfort:

: 

Still we must not forget the great mercies mingled with this bitter cup. That we have reason to believe that death to him, was the gate of endless joy, — and that he has joined our beloved mother, and all the pious dead, is a mercy which demands our most lively gratitude. It will not be long ere we too, shall be called to pass over Jordan, and enter the heavenly Canaan, — and how light will our trials then seem!

beginning a new life

In the winter of 1851-2, Mary went to stay with a relative who had an invalid daughter. True to her caretaking nature, Mary became a "comfort and a blessing" as she helped to care for the ailing girl. While there, she wrote a memoir of her mother which was published sometime in 1851. Mary specified that she wrote it "solely to magnify the grace of God, which made her (Mary's mother) 'a burning and shining light' in the world.'" The frontispiece of the book featured a picture of Jane Coombs Greenleaf:

Mary stayed with her relatives for some months and then returned to her own home.

With her parents gone, she spent much of her time visiting out of town friends and relatives in need and each time "[s]he carried sunshine with her." In January of 1854, however, an injury to her wrist left her "completely disabled." When the injury was not better by April, she placed herself under the care of a Dr. Hewitt in Boston:

I came two weeks since. I board in his house; and after several painful operations, the bone seems to be gradually returning to its socket; and I am encouraged to hope for a cure. As the arm is splintered, I cannot use my needle at all, but can write a good deal.

After the operations, Mary moved in with friends in Boston to recuperate. She wrote to a friend of an incident there in May:

There is a great excitement in the city with regard to a fugitive slave. One man was killed instantly on Friday evening. We hope God will appear, and in some way, overrule all to his glory. The military are all out, and in my walks I dare not pass through Court street, there is such a crowd there. It seems shocking: to have the poor slave returned to his master; and yet we are bound to submit to the laws of the land, though some of them may be wicked; because, if the people may trample on one law, they may on all. But we can pray that our rulers may repeal iniquitous laws.

Note: The slave mentioned in Mary's letter was Anthony Burns who had excaped to Boston from Virginia. He was captured under the Fugitive Slave Act which had been enacted in 1850. The Act was highly unpopular in Boston and riots followed his capture. A deputy marshall was killed during the riots. Burns was sent back to Virginia but his capture and trial ony fueled the flames of abolition in the north.  

Mary was finally able to return home to Newburyport in July to resume her life of service to others. After two years, she felt that she could do more.

the beginnings of a missionary life

In March of 1856, Mary wrote a letter to the Reverend A. G. Vermilye

 My dear Pastor,

I want to have a little free communication with you, and take the liberty to address you in this way, not doubting that you will excuse me. You will probably be surprised when I ask you, what should you think of my offering myself to the Board of Missions of the Presbyterian church as a teacher, or assistant teacher, at some one of their stations among the Indians of our own country? Would you think it the most absurd idea that could ever enter my head? Perhaps so, —

. . .although for more than thirty years after, it seemed an imperious duty for me to remain at home, and take care of my aged parents, doing what I could for souls here, and promoting the Missionary cause in other ways. I have recently thought that possibly I might do more for the cause of Christ, by devoting a few years to the labors and sacrifices which are inseparable from Missionary life. For the last year, particularly, I have felt that I am not so useful as I might and ought to be.

I wish it to be kept a profound secret at present, — but I must decide by Friday, about going to New York,

Mary did decide to go to New York and talk with the Missionary Board. While there, she stayed at the house of Dr. Wilson who quizzed her on her ability to weather the difficulties entailed in the missionary life.

"Could you ford a creek, or stream, on horseback?" he asked. This was an obstacle quite new and unexpected. . .reflecting a little, she thought that if already on her way to the Mission station, her courage might fail at the moment of reaching the water's edge, and she be obliged, even then, to turn back. She replied "that she did not think she could."

The subject weighed on Mary's mind all night and was the first thing in her mind when she woke in the morning. At breakfast, by happenstance, as she opened the memoir she had written of her mother.

. . .her eye fell upon the passage quoted from Isaiah, forty-third chapter, second verse. "When thou passeth through the waters, I will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." Her relief, and resolution to appropriate that wondrous promise, were instantaneous. When she told Dr. Wilson her decision, he stated to her that it would not probably be necessary for her to ford a stream before arriving at Wapanucka. . .

Mary left New York in late May of 1856. The trip to Oklahoma took her though Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Cincinatti where she booked passage on a steamboat for Louisville, KY. She arrived in Little Rock, AK on June 15th. On the 17th she had finally reached the Chocktaw Nation which was about 80 miles from her end destination at Wapanucka.

the Chickasaw Indians

The Indians Mary was to service were the Chickasaw who, since 1837, were systematically being removed from their traditional homelands in Mississippi, Alabama, Kentucky and Tennessee. The move placed them on Chocktaw Nation land in Oklahoma where the "Chickasaws found themselves limited and bound to the Choctaw Nation’s constitution and laws" which they found oppressive. Some years before Mary's arrival, the Chickasaws had begun lobbying in Washington D.C. for a separation from the Chocktaws. They won approval in 1853 and the new agreement guaranteed them “unrestricted right of self-government and full jurisdiction over persons and property within their respective limits. . .”

Mary arrived on the Chicasaw reservation on July 13 1855. She noted that most of the Indians she saw there "dress like the whites, except that the women do not wear bonnets, but tie handkerchiefs over their heads instead." Even though these tribes had been uprooted from their homeland "their determination for educating and providing

for their own citizens remains unconquered."

Their first school in Oklahoma had been built in 1844. Mary's destination, the Wapanucka Female Labor School was established in 1852 in a joint effort by the Chickasaw Nation and the Board of Missions of the Presbyterian Church. The school, shown below, was also known as the Chickasaw Rock School because of the rock used to build it.

journey and arrival at the Academy

Mary arrived at the Wapanuka Female Manuel Labor Academy in July of 1855. In a letter to a friend, she described her arrival at the school:  

Wapanucka, July 11 — I arrived here yesterday afternoon, in good health, having been protected and blessed every step of the way.

As I rode into the yard, and felt that I had reached the home to which I had been looking for the last three months, I thought that I could be happy here if I have the presence of Christ, for it is only that which can make us really happy any where.

It is vacation here, as it is at all the schools, so I do not see any of the girls, and my work for the next two and a half months will only be preparing for the session in October.

In the same letter, Mary wrote about spending a night in the home of a Chocktaw Chief on her journey to the school.

Wednesday night we put up with the Chief, — the accommodations there were poor, but we did not sup or breakfast there, and slept quietly, notwithstanding the discomforts. The chief is a pious man, an elder in the church. He prayed in English, and returned thanks that the sun had not smitten down the travelers who had come under his roof, and prayed for a blessing on all the Missionaries, and on the people, returning thanks that the Missionaries had come to teach them and their children the way of salvation by Jesus Christ. In the morning I offered to pay him for our lodging, and the provender of the horse, but he said ' No, you cannot pay me any thing. I am only sorry I could not give you better accommodations.'

Displaced Native Americans had learned over time that the path of least resistance was to try and assimilate into the white man's world. Part of this assimilation was the recognition that their children would be taken from their homes and educated by white people into the ways of the white world. As destructive as that would turn out to be for the children, for missionaries like Mary, who worked long forty week terms for meager pay, the objective was to be of service.

From a letter on August 21, after being there for six weeks:

During vacation we live a very secluded life, the extreme heat not allowing us to go out much, and we have very little company. We are remote from any habitation, and see very few of the Chickasaws. There are only two beside myself who usually sit together in the day time; of these, one is just getting up from a severe attack of chills and fever, and the other had a similar attack a week previous. Neither of them can sit up all day.

The climate in Oklahoma lent itself to the kinds of illness that Mary described in her colleagues. A month later, she wrote that "all the ladies but one have had chills and fever, and sme of them several attacks." It would be just such a fever that would take Mary, herself, in just two short years.

Mary's story will continue in our next post