Books: Life of John Coleridge Patteson

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Life of John Coleridge Patteson

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Ascension Day was always Bishop Selwyn's favourite time for starting,
so that the charge might be ringing freshly in his ears and those of
his companions, 'Go ye and teach all nations, baptizing them in the
name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.'

There was morning service and Holy Communion at the little College
chapel on the 1st of May, Ascension Day of 1856; then the party went
on board, but their first start was only to Coromandel Bay, in order
that the Bishop might arrange a dispute with the Maoris, and they
then returned to Auckland to take up Mrs. Selwyn. The crew were five
in number, and Mr. Leonard Harper, son of the future Bishop of
Lyttelton, likewise accompanied them, and relieved Patteson of his
onerous duties as steward.

The first adventure was such a storm as the little vessel had never
yet encountered. The journal-letter thus describes it:--'On Saturday
morning it began to blow from the north-east, and for the first time
I experienced a circular gale or hurricane. Mrs. Somerville, I
think, somewhere describes the nature of them in her "Physical
Geography." The wind veered and hauled about a point or two, but
blew from the north-east with great force, till about seven P.M. we
could do no more with it and had to lie to. Ask old D. what that
means, if you can't understand my description of it. The principle
of it is to set two small sails, one fore and one aft, lash the
rudder (wheel) amidships, make all snug, put on hatches, batten
everything down, and trust to ride out the storm. As the vessel
falls away from the wind by the action of one sail, it is brought up
to it again by the other-sail. Thus her head is always kept to the
wind, and she meets the seas, which if they caught her on the beam or
the quarter would very likely send her down at once. About midnight
on Saturday the wind suddenly chopped round to W.S.W., so that we
were near the focus of the gale; it blew harder and harder till we
took down the one sail forward, as the ropes and spars were enough
for the wind to act upon. From 1 P.M. to 7 P.M. on Sunday it blew
furiously. The whole sea was one drift of foam, and the surface of
the water beaten down almost flat by the excessive violence of the
wind, which cut off the head of every wave as it strove to raise
itself, and carried it in clouds of spray and great masses of water,
driving and hurling it against any obstacle, such as our little
vessel, with inconceivable fury. As I stood on deck, gasping for
breath, my eyes literally unable to keep themselves open, and only by
glimpses getting a view of this most grand and terrible sight, it
seemed as if a furious snow-storm was raging over a swelling,
heaving, dark mass of waters. When anything could be seen beyond the
first or second line of waves, the sky and sea appeared to meet in
one cataract of rain and spray. A few birds were driving about like
spirits of the storm. It was, as Shakspeare calls it, a regular
hurly. Add to this the straining of the masts, the creaking of the
planks, the shrill whistle of the wind in the ropes and cordage, the
occasional crash of a heavy sea as it struck us with a sharp sound,
and the rush of water over the decks, down the companion and hatches,
that followed, and you have a notion of a gale of wind. And yet this
was far from all the wind and sea can do, and we were never in any
danger, I believe. That is, an unlucky sea at such a time may be
fatal, and if anything about the schooner had been unsound it might
have been awkward. At prayers, the Bishop read the prayer to be used
in a storm, but I never myself entertained the idea of our being
really in peril, nor did I suffer anything like the anxiety that I
did when we were rounding Cape Palliser on our way to Wellington with
the Judge. Here we had sea room and no fear of driving upon rocks.
It is blowing a good deal now, as you see by my writing. I have a
small ink-bottle of glass, made like an eel-pot (such as tax-
gatherers use), tied to my buttonhole, and with this I can scribble
away in almost any sea. Dear me! you could not sit still a minute,
even now. I was qualmish on Saturday, and for a minute sick, but
pretty comfortable on Sunday, though wearied by the constant pitching
and rolling.'

The day after this, namely May 15, the Bishop and Mr. Patteson rowed
into Cascade Bay, Norfolk Island, amid a heavy surf, but they saw no
cascade, as there had been no rain for a long time; and there were
only rocks surmounted by pine trees, no living creature, no landing-
place, as they coasted along. At last they saw a smooth-looking rock
with an iron staple, and concluding that it was the way of approach,
they watched their time, and through the surf which broke over it
they leapt on it, and dashed ashore before the returning swell caught
them. They walked inland, and met a man, one of twelve convicts who
had been left behind to receive the Pitcairners, who had not yet
arrived, but were on their way from their original island in H.M.S.
'Juno.' The vegetation and climate struck them as beautiful; there
were oranges, lemons, sweet potatoes, and common potatoes, and
English vegetables, and the Norfolk Island pine growing to a great
height: 'but,' writes Coley, 'it is coarser in the leaf and less
symmetrical in shape than I had expected. I thought to have seen the
tree of Veitch's nursery garden on a scale three or four times as
large, and so I might have done in any of the gardens; but as they
grow wild in the forest, they are not so very different from the more
common fir tribe.'

They saw one house, but had little time, and getting down to the
smooth rock, stood there, barefooted, till the boat could back in
between the rollers; the Bishop leapt in at the first, and the boat
made off at once, and till it could return, Patteson had to cling to
the clamps to hinder himself from being washed off, as six or seven
waves broke over him before the boat could come near enough for
another spring. These difficulties in landing were one of the
recommendations of the island, by isolating the future inhabitants
from the demoralising visits of chance vessels.

Then followed some days of great enjoyment of the calm warmth of the
semi-tropical winter, chiefly varied by catching a young shark, and
contrasting him with his attendant pilot, as the ugliest and
prettiest of fish. Patteson used the calm to write (May 30) one of
his introspective letters, owning that he felt physical discomfort,
and found it hard to banish 'recollections of clean water, dry
clothes, and drink not tasting like medicine; but that he most of all
missed the perfect unconstrained ease of home conversation.'

Then he continues:--

'But now, don't you see, Fan, how good this is for me? If you think
impartially of me, as you recollect me, you will see how soft and
indolent I was, how easily I fell into self-indulgent habits, how
little I cared to exert myself and try and exercise the influence,
etc., a clergyman may be supposed to possess; there was nothing about
me to indicate energy, to fit me for working out a scheme and
stamping my own mind upon others who came in contact with me.
Perhaps there is no one person who can trace any sensible influence
to anything I ever did or said.

'Now I don't of course venture to say that this is otherwise now; but
I think that this is the best training to make it so. I think that I
ought to be gaining strength of purpose, resolution, energy of
character, under these circumstances. And observe, what should I be
without some such change pressing on me? Just imagine me, such a one
as I was at Alfington, alone on an island with twenty-five Melanesian
boys, from half as many different islands, to be trained, clothed,
brought into orderly habits, &c., the report of our proceedings made
in some sort the test of the working of the Mission; and all this to
be arranged, ordered, and worked out by me, who found H. B---- and W.
P---- a care too great for me.

'on't you see that I must become very different from what I was--more
of a man; to say nothing of the higher and religious side of this
question? While then there is much that my carnal self-indulgent
nature does not at all like, and while it is always trying to rebel,
my better sense and the true voice within tells me that,
independently of this particular work requiring such a discipline,
the discipline itself is good for the formation of my own character.
...Oh! the month of June at Feniton! the rhododendrons, azaleas, and
kalmias, the burst of flowers and trees, the song of thrush and
blackbird (both unknown to New Zealand). The green meadows and
cawing rooks, and church towers and Sunday bells, and the bright
sparkling river and leaping trout: and the hedges with primrose and
violet (I should like to see a hedge again); and I am afraid I must
add the green peas and beans, and various other garden productions,
which would make salt pork more palatable!" Yes, I should like to
see it all again; but it is of the earth after all, and I have the
"many-twinkling smile of Ocean," though there is no soft woodland
dell to make it more beautiful by its contrast. Well, I have had a
happy hour scribbling away, and now to work.'

'I am less distressed now,' he adds, a few days later, in the same
strain, 'at the absence of all that is customary in England on these
occasions (great festivals), though I dare not say how far the loss
of all these privileges produces a bad effect upon my heart and
character. One often loses the spirit when the form is withdrawn,
and I still sorely long for the worship of God in the beauty of
holiness, and my mind reverts to Ottery Church, and college chapels
and vast glorious cathedrals.'

On the 10th of June the 'Southern Cross' was in Sydney harbour, and
remained there a fortnight, Bishop Barker gladly welcoming the new
arrivals, though in general Bishop Selwyn and his Chaplain announced
themselves as like the man and woman in the weather-glass, only
coming-out by turns, since one or other had to be in charge of the
ship; but later an arrangement was made which set them more at
liberty. And the churches at Sydney were a great delight to
Patteson; the architecture, music, and all the arrangements being
like those among which he had been trained.

'A Sunday worth a dozen gales of wind!' he exclaims, 'but you can
hardly judge of the effect produced by all the good substantial
concomitants of Divine worship upon one who for fourteen months has
scarcely seen anything but a small wooden church, with almost all the
warmth of devotion resting on himself. I feel roused to the core.
...I felt the blessing of worshipping the Lord with a full heart in
the beauty of holiness. A very good organ well played, and my joy
was great when we sang the long 78th Psalm to an old chant of itself
almost enough to upset me, the congregation singing in parts with
heart and voice.'

His exhilaration showed itself in a letter to his little cousin,
Paulina Martin:--

''Southern Cross," Sydney Harbour: June 18, 1856.

'My darling Pena,--Are you so anxious to have a letter from me, and
do you think I am going to forget all about you? However, you have
had long before this two or three letters from me, I hope, and when I
write to grandpapa or grandmamma or mamma, you must always take it as
if a good deal was meant for you, for I have not quite so much time
for writing as you have, I dare say, in spite of music and French and
history and geography and all the rest of it. But I do dearly love
to write to you when I can, and you must be quite certain that I
shall always do so as I have opportunity.

'Don't you ever talk to me about any of your English watering-places
and sea-port towns! No one knows anything about what an harbour can
be for perfect beauty of earth, air, and sea, for wooded banks and
rocky heights, and fine shipping and handsome buildings, and all the
bustle and stir of a town of 80,000 inhabitants somehow lost and
hidden among gum trees and Norfolk Island pines and parks and gravel
walks; and everywhere the magnificent sea view breaking in upon the
eye. Don't be angry, darling, for I love Dawlish very much, and
would sooner go and sail the "Mary Jane" with you in some dear little
basin among the rocks at low tide, and watch all the little crabs and
other creatures with long Latin names, than walk about Sydney arm-in-
arm with the Bishops of New Zealand and Newcastle, to call on the
Governor. But I must say what I think about the natural scenery of
places that I visit, and nowhere, even in New Zealand--no, not even
in Queen Charlotte's Sound, nor in Banks's Peninsula, have I seen
anything so completely beautiful as this harbour--'"heoi ano" "that's
enough." The Governor told us yesterday that when he was at Hobart
Town, he made the convicts cut a path through one of the deep gullies
running down from a mountain 4,500 feet high to the sea. The path
was two miles long, and all the way the tree-ferns, between twenty
and thirty feet high, formed a natural roof arched and vaulted like
the fretted roofs of our Tudor churches and chapels. There is a
botanical garden here with a very good collection of all the
Australian trees and shrubs, and with many New Zealand and many semi-
tropical plants besides. All the English flowers and fruits grow
here as well, so that in the warmer months it must look beautiful.
It is close to the sea, which runs here in little creeks and bays
close up among the public walks and buildings; and as the shore is
all rocky and steep at low water, there is no mud or swamp or
seaweed, but only clear green water quite deep and always calm and
tranquil, because the harbour is so broken up and diversified by
innumerable islets, gulfs, &c., that no wind can raise any sea of
consequence in it.

'Just now it is winter time--slight frost at night, but no appearance
of it after the sun is up; bright hot days, and bracing cold nights,
the very perfection of a climate in winter, but in summer very hot.
It is so funny to me to see regular stone and brick houses, and
shops, and carriages, and cabs, &c., all quite new to me.

'To-night there is a great missionary meeting. Bishops of Sydney,
New Zealand, and Newcastle present. Bishop of Newcastle and a Mr.
King advocate the cause of the Australian blacks, and the Bishop of
New Zealand and unfortunate I have to speechify about Melanesia.
What on earth to say I don't know, for of course the Bishop will
exhaust the subject before me.

'However, I must try and not be in a great fright; but I would sooner
by half be going to have a talk with a parcel of Maoris. Now, you
must get Fanny Patteson to tell you all about our voyage from New
Zealand, our adventure at Norfolk Island, &c.

'We sail on Monday, 23rd, for Norfolk Island again, as it is in our
way to the Solomon group, because we shall get the S.E. trades just
about there, and so run away in style to the Solomon Islands, and
perhaps farther north still, but that is not probable this time.

'Always, my darling,

'Your affectionate cousin,

'J. C. PATTESON.'

This meeting was called by the Australian Board of Missions to
receive information or propositions concerning the missions to the
Australians and Melanesians. Bishop Barker of Sydney was in the
chair, and the Bishop of Newcastle, who had made one Melanesian
cruise in the 'Border Maid,' was likewise present. The room was
crowded to excess, and from 900 to 1,000 were certainly present, many
more failing to get in. Afterwards Patteson writes to his father:--

'The Bishop of New Zealand, in introducing me to the meeting, spoke
before all these people of you and me in a way that almost unnerved
me, and I had to speak next. What he said is not reported, or very
badly--calling me his dear friend, with his voice quivering--I never
saw him more, or so much affected--"I ought to be most thankful to
God for giving me so dear a companion, &c." But he spoke so of you,
and people here seemed to know of you, coming up to me, and asking
about you, after the meeting. The Bishop of Newcastle spoke of you
most kindly, and really with very great feeling. An evening I had
dreaded ended happily. Before I dined with the three Bishops; last
night with Chief Justice Sir Alfred Stephen, and met the trio again,
Bishop everywhere speaking of me as one of his family. "No, my boys
are not with me; but we have my dear friend Mr. Patteson." Of course
all this exhibition of feeling never comes out when we are alone, we
know each other too well. And now the romance of Mission work is
over, and the real labour is to begin. There has been bad work among
the islands lately, but you know in whose hands we are.'

The collections both at the door and on the following Sunday were
very large, and a strong warm feeling was excited in Sydney which has
never since died away. Mr. Patteson was much beloved there, and
always met with kind welcome and ready assistance from all classes.
But there was one great disappointment. The Bishop of New Zealand,
on formally setting before Sir William Denison, Governor-General of
Australia, his plan for making Norfolk Island the site of a school
for training Melanesian teachers, and eventually the seat of a
bishopric, received a refusal, and was not permitted even to place a
chaplain there. Sir William, as he tells us in his published diary,
had heard from some quarter or other rumours respecting the
Melanesian scholars which made him suppose that their presence might
have a bad effect upon the Pitcairners; and repeated that his
instructions were that the islanders should be left as much as
possible to themselves. The request to be permitted to place Mr.
Patteson there was refused on the ground that Norfolk Island belonged
to the see of Tasmania, and not to that of New Zealand. But the
Bishop of Tasmania could hardly visit it without great inconvenience,
and he had therefore placed it under the care of his brother of New
Zealand, full in whose track it lay. The matter was referred to the
Colonial Secretary, and in the meantime Bishop Selwyn adhered to his
purpose of visiting it on leaving Sydney, and though he could not
place his chaplain there, leaving Mrs. Selwyn to assist in the work
of training the new comers to the novelties of a more temperate
climate and a more genial soil than they had known on the torrid rock
of Pitcairn's Island.

Accordingly, on the 4th of July, the 'Southern Cross' again
approached the island, and finding that the Pitcairners had come, and
that their magistrate and Mr. Nobbs, their clergyman, would gladly
welcome assistance, the Bishop brought Mrs. Selwyn on shore, and left
her there to assist Mr. Nobbs in preparing the entire population to
be confirmed on his return. But the Pitcairners have been amply
written about, and as Coleridge Patteson's connection with them was
only incidental, I shall not dwell on them or their history.

The 'Southern Cross' reached Anaiteum on the 14th of July. This
island was occupied by Mr. Inglis and Mr. Greddie, of the Scottish
Presbyterian Mission, who had done much towards improving the
natives. Small canoes soon began to come off to the vessel, little
craft consisting of no more than the trunk of a tree hollowed out,
seldom more than a foot broad, and perhaps eighteen inches deep, all
with outriggers--namely, a slight wooden frame or raft to balance
them, and for the most part containing two men, or sometimes three or
four. Before long, not less than fifteen or twenty had come on
board, with woolly hair and mahogany skins, generally wearing a small
strip of calico, but some without even this. They were small men,
but lithe and supple, and walked about the deck quite at ease,
chattering in a language no one understood except the words 'Missy
Inglis,' as they pointed to a house. Presently another canoe arrived
with a Samoan teacher with whom the Bishop could converse, and who
said that Mr. Geddie was at Mare. They were soon followed by a whale
boat with a Tahitian native teacher, a Futuma man, and a crew of
Anaiteans.

'The Futuma man had expended his energies upon his hair, which was
elaborately dressed after a fashion that precluded the possibility of
any attention being bestowed upon the rest of his person, which was
accordingly wholly unencumbered with any clothing. The perfection of
this art apparently consisted in gathering up about a dozen hairs and
binding them firmly with grass or fine twine of cocoa-nut fibre
plastered with coral lime. As the hair grows, the binding is
lengthened also, and only about four or five inches are suffered to
escape from this confinement, and are then frizzed and curled, like a
mop or a poodle's coat. Leonard Harper and I returned in this boat,
Tahitian steering, Samoan, Futuman, and Anaiteans making one motley
crew. The brisk trade soon carried us to the beach in front of Mr.
Inglis's house, and arrived at the reef I rode out pick-a-back on the
Samoan, Leonard following on a half-naked Anaitean. We soon found
ourselves in the midst of a number of men, women and children,
standing round Mr. Inglis at the entrance of his garden. I explained
to him the reason of the Bishop's being unable to land, that he alone
knew the harbour on the other side of island, and so could not leave
the vessel.

'Then, having delivered the boxes and letters we had brought for him
from Auckland, we went into his house, gazing with delight at
cocoanut trees, bananas, breadfruit trees, citrons, lemons, taro,
&c., with bright tropical colouring thrown over all, lighting up the
broad leaves and thick foliage of the trees around us.

'The house itself is built, after the fashion of these islands, of
wattle plastered with coral lime, the roof thatched with the leaves
of the cocoa-nut and pandana; the fences of the garden were made of
cane, prettily worked together in a cross pattern; the path neatly
kept, and everything looking clean and tidy. We sat down in a small,
well-furnished room, and looked out upon the garden, verandah, and
groups of men and women standing outside. Presently Mrs. Inglis came
into the room, and after some discussion I was persuaded to stay all
night, since the schooner could not reach her anchorage before dark,
and the next day the water-casks were to be filled.

'An excellent dinner was provided: roast fowl with taro, a nutritious
root somewhat like potato, rice and jam, bananas and delicious fruit,
bread and Scotch cheese, with glasses of cocoa-nut milk.

'Afterwards he showed us the arrangements for boarding young men and
women--twelve of the former, and fourteen of the latter. Nothing
could well exceed the cleanliness and order of their houses, sleeping
rooms, and cooking rooms. The houses, wattled and plastered, had
floors covered with native mats, beds laid upon a raised platform
running round the inner room, mats and blankets for covering, and
bamboo cane for a pillow. The boys were, some writing, some making
twine, some summing, when we went in; the girls just putting on their
bonnets, of their own manufacture, for school.

'They learn all household work--cooking, hemming, sewing, &c.; the
boys tend the poultry, cows, cultivate taro, make arrowroot, &c. All
of them could read fluently, and all looked happy, clean, and
healthy. The girls wear their native petticoats of cocoa-nut leaves,
with a calico body. Boys wear trousers, and some had shirts, some
waistcoats, and a few jackets.

'We walked about a small wood adjoining the house, through which a
small fresh-water stream runs. In the wood we saw specimens of the
various trees and shrubs, and flowers of the island, including those
already noticed in Mr. Inglis's garden, and the breadfruit tree and
sugar-cane, and a beautiful bright flower of scarlet colour, a
convolvulus, larger than any I had ever seen elsewhere; also a tree
bearing a very beautiful yellow flower.

'We then returned to the house, and shortly afterwards went to the
church, which is at present used also as the school-house, though the
uprights of a larger school-house are already fixed in the ground.

'Men, women, and children to the number of ninety-four had assembled
in a large oblong building, wattled and plastered, with open windows
on all sides; mats arranged on the floor, and a raised platform or
bench running round the building for persons who prefer to sit after
the English, instead of the native fashion,

'All that were called upon to read did so fluently; the singing was
harsh and nasal enough, but in very good time; their counting very
good, and their writing on slates quite equal to the average
performance, I am satisfied, of a good English parish school. They
listened attentively when Mr. Inglis spoke to them, and when at his
request I said a few words, which he translated. The most perfect
order and quiet prevailed all the time we were in the school. At the
end of the lessons they came forward, and each one shook hands with
Leonard Harper and myself, smiling and laughing with their quick
intelligent eyes, and apparently pleased to see strangers among them.