Books: Life of John Coleridge Patteson

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

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'The Bishop so planned the voyage as to run down the wind quickly to
the Solomon Islands, and do the real work coming home; not, as usual,
beating up in the open water between the Santa Cruz archipelago,
Banks Islands and New Hebrides to the east, and New Caledonia to the
west. We are thus able to visit Vanua Lava on the way out and home
also; and as we meant to make the Banks Islands the great point this
voyage, that was, of course, great gain.

'We touched at Norfolk Island.... Going on to Nengone we found
everybody away at the distant yam grounds, and could not wait to see
them.

'At Lifu, the first thing that shocked us was John's appearance: one
of those fatal glandular swellings has already produced a great
change in him. He looked sallow and weak, and I fear ut sit vitalis.
He spoke to me very calmly about his illness, which he thinks is unto
death, and I did not contradict him.

'We had much private talk together. He is a fine fellow and, I
believe, a sincere Christian man. Then came the applications to us
not to desert them, and letters enumerating all the villages of Lifu
almost without exception, and entreating us to suffer them to be
connected with us, and we had to answer that already two missionaries
from the L. M. S. are on their way from Sydney to Lifu, and that it
would do harm to have two rival systems on the island. They
acquiesced but not heartily, and it was a sad affair altogether, all
parties unhappy and dissatisfied, and yet unable to solve the
difficulty. Then came a talk with Angadhohua, John's half-brother,
the real chief. The poor lad feels now what a terrible thing it will
be for him and his people if they should lose John. Nothing can be
nicer than his way of talking: "I know you don't think me firm
enough, and that I am easily led by others. What am I to do if John
dies? We all respect him. He has been taught so much, and people
all listen to him." I gave him the best advice that I could and
longed to be able to do something for him and his people. It was,
however, a comfort to leave with them St. Mark, Scripture books, &c.

'We called at Tanna, to see poor Mr. Paton, who lost his wife last
April. He is living on there quite alone, and has already lived down
the first angry opposition of some of the people, and the unkind
treatment that he received from men and women alike who mocked him
because of his wife's death, &c. He has had much fever and looked
very ill, but his heart was in his work; and the Bishop said he
seemed to be one of the weak things which God hath chosen. I know he
made me feel pretty well ashamed of myself.

'Next day we spent a few hours with Mr. and Mrs. Gordon at Erromango.
He has a small house on the high table-land overlooking Dillon's Bay,
and certainly is exposed to winds which may, for aught I know, rival
those of Wellington notoriety. The situation is, however, far
preferable in the summer to that on the beach, which is seldom free
from malaria and ague.

'Then we sailed to the great bay of Pango, landed at Fate a fellow
who had come to the Bishop in New Zealand for a passage, and in the
afternoon sailed away through "the Pool" (the landlocked space
between Mallicolo and Espiritu Santo to the west; Aspee, Ambrym,
Whitsuntide, Aurora to the east), where for eighty miles the water is
always smooth, the wind always steady, the scenery always lovely, and
where, on this occasion, the volcano was bright.

'Being nearly becalmed to the south-east of Leper's Isle, the Bishop
gave me the choice of a visit to Whitsuntide or Leper's Island. I
voted for the latter, and delighted we were to renew an acquaintance
made two years ago, and not since kept up, with these specially nice
people. We were recognised at once, but we have a very small
vocabulary.

'The sea was running heavily into the bay, but it is sand there and
not much rock on the beach, and we had a jolly swim ashore. Then we
bought a few yams, which the surf did not permit us to get to the
boat, and had a very pleasant visit; for, as we sat among them, words
came into one's head, or were caught from their mouth, and at the end
of twenty minutes we were getting on a little. The old chief took me
by the hand and led me aside to the spot where the ladies were
assembled, and divining no doubt that I was a bachelor, politely
offered me his daughter, and his protection, &c., if I would live
among them.

'I missed seeing the Bishop knocked clean over by the breakers as he
was swimming off to the boat; I was still talking to the people, with
my back to the sea, and only saw him staggering to his feet again.
Thinking to myself that if he was knocked over, I had better look
out, I awaited a "smooth" and swam out comfortably.

'The next morning (Sunday) at ten, we dropped anchor in Port
Patteson, the harbour which you know the Bishop would call after my
father. The first person who came off to us was Sarawia, my old Lifu
pupil, from this island! Then came a good many men. I told them
there would be no going ashore and no trading till the next day.
Palemana, your friend Matawathki, &c., were at church, all dressed
and well-behaved. What nice orderly people they are, to be sure!

'The next day we bought lots of yams, and gave away seeds and fruit-
trees, or rather planted them; and looked for a place for a station,
and fixed at last on the rising-ground which forms the east side of
the harbour, and the Bishop, arming himself with an axe, led a party
to clear the bush, which was very thick. They made a fair path
through in one afternoon to the top, and a healthy place might be
found now with little trouble to return to at night from the schools,
&c. in the village below, and so shirk the malaria.

'But the next day, as I had anticipated, rather changed his
intentions as to the principal station being formed at Vanua Lava.
We landed at Sugar Loaf Island, and with something of pride I showed
off to him the beauties of the villages where I slept in May last--
the dry soil, the spring of water, the wondrous fertility, the large
and remarkably intelligent, well-looking population, the great banyan
tree, twenty-seven paces round--and at once he said, "This is such a
place as I have seen nowhere else for our purpose."

'The Bishop had seen this island before I was with him, during one of
the "Border Maid's" voyages, and knew the people, of course, but had
not happened to have walked in shore at all, and so the exceeding
beauty and fitness of the island for a Mission station had not become
so apparent to him. We know of no place where there seems to be such
an unusual combination of everything that can be desired, humanly
speaking, for such an institution. So that is settled (D.V.) that
next winter I should be here, if alive and well; and that the Banks
Islands should be regarded as the central point of the Mission.

'Such boys! Bright-eyed, merry fellows, many really handsome; of
that reddish yellow tinge of colour which betokens affinity with
Polynesian races, as their language also testifies. The majority of
the people were pleasing in their appearance and manner. Well, all
this was very hopeful, and we went off very happy, taking Eumau, the
boy who first met us at Port Patteson when we found it out, and old
Wompas (who was with me at Lifu), and another from Mota, to see the
Northern Islands.

'I think our work is more likely now to revolve upon a fixed centre--
Sugar Loaf Island in the Banks group--that we shall make the
occupation of the group the first ohject, and do all with reference
to that as the necessary part of the work to be attended to first.
In the choice of scholars, e.g., we have considered whether we should
not limit our selection to such as might pass the next winter with me
at Sugar Loaf Island, and so that the vessel need not run down to
leeward of it. Solomon Islands are the extreme verge. In the East
Island, where there would be merely a question of nothing or
something, we may take very young men who would perhaps not be easy
to keep out of harm at Sugar Loaf, because there will be no
difficulty about returning them to their homes....

'November 11th.--We found in the Santa Cruz group that the news of
Captain Front's and his two men's death in Vanikoro, and (as we
suppose) the news of the "Cordelia" having been at that island to
inquire into the matter, had made the people anxious, uneasy, noisy,
and rather rude. That poor man went to make a station at Vanikoro in
the usual way, taking three poor New Caledonian women with him. The
Vanikoro people killed the three English and took away the women.

'We did not land at Sta. Cruz, but we had a more pleasant intercourse
than heretofore with thirty or forty canoes' crews.

'Timelin Island we ascertained to be identical with Nukapu, an old
familiar place whose latitude we had not ascertained correctly
before. The small reef (Polynesian) islands did not give us so good
a reception as last year, though there was no unfriendliness. The
news about Vanikoro had made them suspicious of visits from white
men. But they will be all right by next time....

'We saw a pleasant party at Bligh Island, brought away one young man
from that island, and two lads belonging to a neighbouring small
island called Eowa. The next day we watered on the north side of
Vanua Lava, and in the evening went across to Santa Maria. Here we
landed on the next day among two hundred or more people, shy and
noisy. We bought a few yams, and I detected some young fellows
stealing from our little heap I would not overlook this, but the
noticing it made them more suspicious that we meant to hurt them.
As the Bishop and I, after some twenty minutes, turned to rejoin the
boat, the whole crowd bolted like a shot right and left into the
bush. Evidently they must have had some trading crew tire a parting
shot in mere wantonness at them from their boat. I expected some
arrows to be shot at us; but they did not shoot any.

'The same evening (Saturday) we stood across the passage with a brisk
breeze, and took up our party, consisting of five and including
Sarawia and four others anciently noted as promising in
appearance....

'We reached Mota (Sugar Loaf Island) in time to leave me for a
night's visit to the people. I had time before the boat called next
day at noon to see five or six of their villages. People quite
accustomed to expect me--all most friendly, apparently pleased to be
told that I would stop with them in the winter. Seven scholars
joined us here....

'At Mai, I slept in the house of Petere and Laure. Things are
promising. It is quite ready for a missionary. We brought away
Moto, Pepeu, and the two young boys who were with me at Lifu, and
very many wished to come.

'Thence we had a very long passage to Lifu. John Cho is, I am
thankful to say, very much better. The two men from the London
Missionary Society are on the island.... The Lifu people tell me that
in the north of the island many are accepting the teaching of the two
French priests. William Martin Tahia and Chakham, a principal chief
and old scholar, are with us.

'At Nengone, Wadrokala, George Simeona, and Harper Malo have come
away for good.... We number thirty-nine Melanesians.... This is a
long letter which will try your patience.

'Always, my dear Bishop,

'Affectionately yours,

'J. C. PATTESON.'

Another long letter was written during this voyage to Mr. Edward
Coleridge, a great portion of it on the expediency of the islands
being taken under British protection, also much respecting the Church
of New Zealand, which is scarcely relevant to the immediate subject,
and only at the end is there anything more personal:--

'The last accounts of my father were unusually good, but I well know
what news may be awaiting our return from a voyage whether long or
short, and I try to be ready for any news; yet I suppose that I
cannot at all realize what it would be. It makes some difference
when the idea of meeting again in this world has been relinquished
for now four and a half years, yet it is all very well to wait or
think about it! I was not so upset by dear Uncle James's death as I
should no doubt have been had I enjoyed the prospect of frequently
seeing him. Somehow, when all ideas of time and space are
annihilated by death, one must think about such separations in a
religious way: for separations in any other sense to us here, from
people in England, have already taken place. I must except, however,
the loving wise letters, and the power of realising more clearly
perhaps the occupations of those still in the body--their accustomed
places and duties; though I suppose we can tell quite enough about
all this in the case of those who have died in the true faith of
Christ to know, at all events, that we are brought and united to them
whenever we think or do anything religiously. I often think that
this is well brought out in the "Heir of Redclyffe"--the loss of "the
bright outside," the life and energy and vigour, and all the
companionable and sociable qualities, contrasted with the power of
thinking oneself into the inner spiritual relations that exist
between the worlds visible and invisible.

'All this effort is much diminished in our case. There is no very
great present loss; at least, it is not so sensibly felt by a great
deal as it would be if we missed some one with whom we lived up to
the time of his death. It is much easier to think of them as they
are than it could be in the case of persons who remember so vividly
what they so lately were; and this is why, I suppose, the news of
Uncle James's death seemed to affect me so much less than I should
have expected, and it may be so again: certain it is that I loved him
dearly, and that I miss his letters very much indeed; but I think
that the point I felt most about him was the sad affliction to his
family, and the great loss to my dear father, who had of late seen
more than ever of him.'

From the home letter I only quote from the reflections so regularly
inspired by the anniversary of the 28th of November.

After lamenting that it was difficult to realise those scenes in his
mother's illness which he and his brother only knew from narration,
Patteson adds:--

'The memory of those days would perhaps have been more precious to me
if I had witnessed more with my own eyes. And yet of course it
really mattered nothing at all, because the lesson of her life does
not depend on an acquaintance with a few days of it; and what I saw
when I was there I never have forgotten, and hope that I never may
forget.

'And indeed I feel now with regard to you, my dear Father, that I
have not learned to know you better while I was with you than I do
now. I think that in some ways I enter more almost into your mind
and thought, or that I fancy I do so: just as the present possession
of anything so often prevents our really taking pains to learn all
about it. We rest content with the superficial knowledge of that
which is most easily perceived and recognised in it....

'I think I know from your letters, and from the fact of my absence
from you making me think more about you, as much about you as those
present. I very much enjoy a letter from Joan, which gives me a kind
of tableau vivant of you all. That helps me to realize the home
life; so do the photographs, they help in the same way. But your
letters, and the fact that I think so much about them, and about you,
are my real helps.'

The voyage ended on the 7th of December. It was the last made under
the guidance of the Bishop of New Zealand, and, alas! the last return
of the first 'Southern Cross.'

CHAPTER IX.

MOTA AND ST. ANDREW'S COLLEGE, KOHIMARAMA. 1859-1862.

With the year 1860 a new period, and one far more responsible and
eventful, began. After working for four years under Bishop Selwyn's
superintendence, Coleridge Patteson was gradually passing into a
sphere of more independent action; and, though his loyal allegiance
to his Primate was even more of the heart than of the letter, his
time of training was over; he was left to act more on his own
judgment; and things were ripening for his becoming himself a Bishop.
He had nearly completed his thirty-third year, and was in his fullest
strength, mental and bodily; and, as has been seen, the idea had
already through Bishop Selwyn's letters become familiar to his
family, though he himself had shrunk from entertaining it.

The first great change regarded the locality of the Melanesian school
in New Zealand. Repeated experience had shown that St. John's
College was too bleak for creatures used to basking under a vertical
sun, and it had been decided to remove to the sheltered landing-place
at Kohimarama, where buildings for the purpose had been commenced so
as to be habitable in time for the freight of 1859.

It should be explained, that the current expenses of the Mission had
been defrayed by the Eton and Sydney associations, with chance help
from persons privately interested, together with a grant of £200, and
afterwards £300 per annum from the Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel. The extra expense of this foundation was opportunely met by
a discovery on the part of Sir John Patteson, that his eldest son,
living upon the Merton Fellowship, had cost him £200 a year less than
his younger son, and therefore that, in his opinion, £800 was due to
Coleridge. Moreover, the earlier voyages, and, in especial the
characters of Siapo and Umao, had been so suggestive of incidents
fabricated in the 'Daisy Chain,' that the proceeds of the book were
felt to be the due of the Mission and at this time these had grown to
such an amount as to make up the sum needful for erecting such
buildings as were immediately requisite for the intended College.

These are described in the ensuing letter, which I give entire,
because the form of acknowledgment is the only style suitable to
what, however lightly acquired, was meant as an offering, even though
it cost the giver all too little:

'Kohimarama: Dec. 21, 1859.

'My dear Cousin,--I have received at length from my father a distinct
statement of what you have given to the Melanesian Mission. I had
heard rumours before, and the Bishop of Wellington had spoken to me
of your intentions, but the fact had not been regularly notified to
us.

'I think I know you too well to say more than this. May God bless
you for what you have lent to Him, and give us, who are specially
connected with the Mission, grace to use your gift as you intend it
to be used, to His glory in the salvation of souls.

'But you will like to hear how your gift will be appropriated. For
three summers the Melanesian scholars lived at St. John's College,
which is situated on a low hill, from which the ground falls away on
every side, leaving it exposed to every wind that blows across and
around the narrow isthmus.

'Thank God, we had no death traceable to the effect of the climate,
but we had constant anxiety and a considerable amount of illness.
When arrangements were completed for the arrival of a new principal
to succeed the Bishop of Wellington, the college was no longer likely
to be available for the Mission school. Consequently, we determined
to build on the site long ago agreed upon; to put up some substantial
buildings, and to remove some of the wooden buildings at the College
which would not be required there, and set them up again at
Kohimarama.

'Just opposite the entrance into the Auckland harbour, between the
island of Eangitoto with its double peak and the easternmost point of
the northern shore of the harbour, lies a very sheltered bay, with
its sea-frontage of rather more than a quarter of a mile, bounded to
the east, south, and west by low hills, which where they meet the sea
become sandy cliffs, fringed with the red-flower-bearing pohutakawa.
The whole of this bay, the seventy acres of flat rich soil included
within the rising ground mentioned, and some seventy acres more as
yet lying uncleared, adjoining the same block of seventy acres, and
likely to be very valuable, as the land is capital--the whole of this
was bought by the Bishop many years ago as the property of the
Mission, and is the only piece of Church land over which he retains
the control, every other bequest or gift to the amount of 14,000
acres, having been handed over by him to the General Synod. This he
retains till the state of the Melanesian Mission is more definitely
settled.

'On the west corner of this bay we determined to build. A small tide
creek runs for a short way about S.S.E. from the extreme end of the
western part of the beach, then turns early eastward, and meets a
small stream coming down from the southern hill at its western
extremity. This creek encloses a space extending along the whole
width of the bay of about eighteen or twenty acres.

'At the east end stand three wooden cottages, occupied by the master,
mate, and a married seaman of the "Southern Cross." At the west end
stands the Melanesian school. Fences divide the whole space into
three portions, whereof the western one forms our garden and orchard;
and the others pasture for cows and working bullocks; small gardens
being also fenced off for the three cottages. The fifty acres of
flat land south of the creek we are now clearing and ploughing.

'The situation here is admirably adapted for our school. Now that we
have a solid wall of the scoria from the volcanic island opposite, we
have a complete shelter from the cold south wind. The cliff and hill
to the west entirely shut off the wind from that quarter, and the
north and east winds are always warm. The soil is very dry, and the
beach composed exclusively of small "pipi" shells--small bivalves.
So that by putting many cart-loads of these under our wooden floors,
and around our buildings, we have so perfect a drainage that after
heavy rain the soil is quite dry again in a few hours. It causes me
no anxiety now, when I am for an hour away from my flock, to be
thinking whether they are lying on the ground, forgetting that the
hot sun overhead does not destroy the bad effect of a damp clay soil
such as that at St. John's College.

'The buildings at present form three sides of a quadrangle, but the
south side is only partly filled up. The large schoolroom, eighty
feet long, with three sets of transepts, has been removed from the
College, and put up again so as to form the east side of the
quadrangle. This is of wood; so is the small wooden quadrangle which
serves now for dormitories, and a part of which I occupy; my house
consisting of three little rooms, together measuring seventeen feet
by seven. These dormitories are the southern side of the quadrangle,
but do not reach more than half-way from the east to the west side,
room being left for another set of dormitories of equal size, when we
want them and can afford them. The west side consists of a very nice
set of stone buildings, including a large kitchen, store room, and
room for putting things in daily and immediate use; and the hall,
which is the northern part of the side of the quadrangle, is a really
handsome room, with simple open roof and windows of a familiar
collegiate appearance. These buildings are of the dark grey scoria,
almost imperishable I suppose, and look very well. The hall is just
long enough to take seven of us at the high table (so to speak), and
thirty-four at the long table, stretching from the high table to the
end of the room.

'At present this is used for school also, as the carpenters who are
making all our fittings, shelves, &c., are still in the large
schoolroom. We take off the north end of the schoolroom, including
one set of transepts for our temporary chapel. This part will be
lined, i.e. boarded, neatly inside. The rest of the building is
very rough, but it answers its purpose.

'In all the stone buildings, the rough stone is left inside just as
it is outside. It does not look bad at all to my eye, and I doubt if
I would have it lined if we had funds to pay for it.

'I hope eventually that stone buildings will take the place of the
present wooden schoolroom and dormitories; but this ought to last
many years. Here we live most happily and comfortably. The climate
almost tropical in summer. The beautiful scenery of the harbour
before our eyes, the smooth sea and clean dry beach within a stone's
throw of my window. The lads and young men have their fishing,
bathing, boating, and basking in the sun, which all day from sunrise
to sunset beats right upon us; for the west cliff does not project
more than a few yards to the north of us, and the eastern boundary is
low and some way off. I see the little schooner at her moorings
whenever I look off my book or my paper, and with an opera-glass can
see the captain caulking the decks. All is under my eye; and the
lads daily say, "College too cold; Kohimarama very good; all the same
Bauro, Mota," as the speaker belongs to one or other of our fourteen
islands represented.... The moment we heard of your gift, we said
simultaneously, "Let it be given to this or to some specific and
definite object." I think you will like to feel not only that the
money came most opportunely, but that within the walls built with
that money, many many hundreds, I trust, of these Melanesian
islanders will be fed and taught, and trained up in the knowledge and
fear of God....